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Matthew Feb 2019
I wasn't taught to have my own opinion
Only taught to follow the "correct" one.
blushing prince Jan 2019
the sun is my king and sometimes it asks me
what i'm doing down here on earth
i can't help but explain that everything has it's place and there are certain rules you cannot bend
i consistently want to have a ****** job wherein it slowly melts my spirits but not really
what i really want is nothing by the sea
doesn't matter which one
where i can pray into the sand
where someone asks
who are you? what are you doing?
and i can tell them
at ease, at ease
like that cowboy i remember from my childhood
this is me at my most degenerate
at my most free
but you wouldn't know
except the sun king and I
Katelynn Jan 2019
Why do I write? Well technically I’m not actually writing, I’m typing. Anyhow I write for many different reasons. I write to share ideas, to change perspective, but I mainly write for myself. I write for myself because writing(typing) helps me understand myself. I know it sounds crazy sometimes but when I am for once able to put meaning into my words I am able to understand parts of myself better. Some people don’t understand. How could someone possibly not understand themselves? It’s reasonable to understand that. I always know what I am feeling most of the time. However trying to take my feelings and put them into words tends to be a struggle for me. Like I can’t find the right words in the proper order to try and explain myself. Sometimes things don’t need explaining. That’s is why I write poetry. In poetry things don’t need to make since, unlike all the college essays that I have to write that scream about grammar and punctuation. Poetry is just a feeling by itself. Letting the rhythm of the words just flow. It doesn’t always make sense but that isn’t the point. The point is does it have meaning? When someone reads poetry do the feel something deep within or are they just zoning out and reading just to read. Reading poetry is like playing a melody in your head. You can hear all the different notes, when they stop, and when they go. You can create a symphony of words with the letters being your orchestra. Some may criticize, they always will, and try to make it seem that your work is less important that it is. But it isn’t. What makes your work important is the feeling that you get from it when you finish. That feeling of relief when you finally let everything bottled up inside you go, or the tears that spill because the damage that was made and the only way to heal is letting out all of these words in your head go. When writing there are no limits, no criteria. It’s just you and your brain piecing together parts of yourself you hadn’t realized that was there before.

And that is why I write.
This is just what I call a word ***** that I had once day, and I just wanted to write. These words are unedited and I didn't allow myself to backspace on any of it. So they may be some spelling errors and there are definitely some grammer erros. This is just pure words, typing as I am thinking. Truely my definition of a word *****.
Esridersi Jan 2019
head fit for wonder
heart to fight and will wisely
hands meant to create
Peter Jan 2019
i'm catching my breath,
harder and harder each time.
polishing every idea till every single one is perfect
crushing ice cubes, i need some water
like a plant, i need to grow
i need constant growth
who am i
if there's no getting better
i don't wanna live
in the world without a goal
it's pointless then
let me rest
new ideas came
they need my attention right now
let this one sink
in its flesh
i won't cry after it
there will be plenty to come
newer
fresher
better
more creative
let this one die
let chaos take over
Annika J Jan 2019
Do we write
To make others think
Original thoughts
Poured into
Poems
Creativity
Poured into words
Do we write
To create something new

Or do we write to grab attention
Appeal to what's already built
Follow the same rutted paths
For the sake of
Attention
A fierce human need
A beast that can corrupt
For the sake of food
And can destroy creativity
Just to follow another's path
Just to be known
To be seen

Or do we write for
Both
Blending our own ideas
With those of others
Hoping to be heard

And what makes popularity?
What is it that grabs our attention
And pulls us in
And makes us lose ourselves
For the sake of being known?
Jashn Dec 2018
Place where dark meets bright
ideas makes up a creator
silence converts to inner voice
Strangers become friends
is the place where happiness meets love.

Place where guards of almighty
present to provide turtledove
for life, to protect our feelings
from the dirt of hatred and sadness
is the place where happiness meets love.
Happy New Year!
Arke Dec 2018
life is but a cruel game
where we live each moment
always missing someone

I talked to a Serbian man
at the bus stop going home
told him my mom died
on the solstice this year
the longest night that never
would become day for her

he said his died when he was 50
that he wept like a child then
tears formed in his pale eyes

though this game seems unfair
that no one close to us remains
we only borrow one another
life is not a game played for keeps
we exchange time for experience
and life itself for memories
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