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Juan Bot Mar 14
The trap fly walks across the room,

the house becomes the ardent fly.

Shining like gold,

As lustrous as Venus,

Its wings unfold,
followed by a swift shove of air.

Ascending into a new form of life,
the fly flies.

but gets trapped by an underground bear trap,
Life.
Always believe in your dreams.
Aspen Welsch Feb 24
See
When you snap a dry twig
you'll find a star inside.
White within beige in brown bark.
No, really. Have you ever looked?
Helicopter seeds have waxed, peel-able layers.
Dandelions have bumps, fossa, tails.
Pick them. Find the white sap oozing out.
Did you ever roll a bug?
Did you ever see another's fluorescent glow?
Remove an acorn hat next fall.
Remember that creamy, perfect nugget and roll
it over in your fingers. Pretend you're a squirrel.
Examine butterfly dust under the microscope
of your spring season soul.
Fold a thick line of crab grass between two thumbs.
Listen to your music, composer.
Where do ants get their perfectly identical pebbles?
Stacked so professionally into tiny, *****, domes.
Have you ever looked?
Aspen Welsch Feb 24
Pluck my legs off.
Ouch. Are you happy now?
Yes.
Keep me helpless, wondering.

See my inner glow flying overhead
blinking for a new lover.
Capture me. Then smear my hope
across your sidewalk.
I’ll be the paint on your
narcissist, concrete canvas.

Maybe just keep me in a jar
******* that air hole. Tight and choking.
If I light up will you
poke another?
No.
Hold onto the side looking
through glass until I fade.

I remember what you said.
I didn’t want to live anyway.
Noah Clark Jan 4
Yellow and black,
too heavy for science yet
weightless to the air.
You fly.
You protect.
You die.
Your senses are keen,
and your smile is bright.
You work all day,
and rest all night.
Mr. Bee, how do
you do it?
How do you manage to
stay so happy and optimistic.
Your squished and smashed,
hit and bashed.
Yet your smile is omnipresent.
Mr. Bee, teach me how to live
happy in this cold and sad world.
Incredible
Ira Desmond Dec 2018
There should be
a time for

each of us
to mourn, individually,

the world that
we thought we would

be living in by now,
whatever world it was.

I, for one,
will mourn

the children
I thought I would have

someday.
I will mourn

the version of myself
that is not

crippled with debt
for having decided to get

an education. I will mourn
the version of my wife

that was not destroyed
by mental illness

with ruthless and shocking efficiency
right after

we got married.
I will mourn

those brilliant flocks of
butterflies, those mid-July swarms

of honeybees that
I thought would not

have perished
quite so quickly.

I will mourn
the summers I thought I would spend

swimming in
clear, living streams,

not having to wear
a mask to unchoke myself

from the omnipresent wildfire
smoke. But I will mourn

civility and morality
above all else, I think.

I will mourn those
difficult discourses

that I thought we
would be capable

of having, that feeling
that we, as a collective,

would be able
to overcome

whatever problem presented
itself. I will mourn

that world that
I thought I would

be living in by now,
whatever world it might have been.

And then, I will take
a deep breath, and

I will accept
things as they truly are.

I will
allow that tsunami of reality

to wash over me,
and to sweep

me up within its
endless tonnage of

of mortal peril and
human catastrophe.

And then I will continue living.
Arke Nov 2018
I write poetry when thoughts infect me
catching colloquy in a web to feast
my thorax alates pearlescent scales
I capture nectar from dewy books
***** waxy words that form in the back
of my throat in honeycomb shapes
they taste sweetest directly from my lips
until you notice six legs protruding
or ten eyes staring up at you in fear
the apex of my elytra is rainbow chrome
but all you see is a hardened shell
admittedly, all I've ever had is ability
to filiform syllables and sounds
dangle lexicon delicately from silk pages
in hopes of creating all the beauty
that I have never felt I possess in this form
cypress Nov 2018
some classify
while others
disagree

the decision to root
this thorn of chance
may sadly,
worm the systems

grotesque foliage
will enter through
near-dead

if one begins to fail badly
destroy
and discard
Donna Oct 2018
A friendly insect
Enjoys the last of summer
Dancing happily
Seen about 5 this week in my house :)
Kit Aug 2018
I don't want to dance, I just want to feel the floor like it's shaking me to death.
I don't want to die, I just want the earth to swallow me like a hero treats his wife.
I don't want to talk, I just want to feel a different heart against mine all time of the year.
I don't want to brag, I just want to show you my intese trust.
I don't want to hit you, I just want to remember why I can't have children.
I don't want to see your face, I just want to imagine your death over a waspnest.

I don't want to write, I just want to stay alive.
I am slipping
Maya Aug 2018
i like bugs.
they remind me
that life is important
on a small scale.
even the most frustrating
are beneficial to nature and
our ecosystem wouldn't be the same
without them.

except mosquitoes.
they can **** right off,
the ***** bloodsucking *******.
i can't stab the **** bug with a wooden stake.
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