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Malia Apr 3
People. Feel. Life. Time. Love. Hate. Day. Cold. Find. Lost. Good. Bad. Wrong. Write. Light. Dark. Heart. Mind. Eyes. Hear. Pain. Hope. Sun. Stars. Better. Afraid. Real. Thought. Help. Cry. Happy. Sad. Fire. Grow.



The light
And the dark
Right next to each other.

and God
Right next to each other.

These are my words:
Contradiction after contradiction.

This is who I am:
Everything, nothing, everywhere, nowhere
I decided to look at the little words tab in here, and there were all these words that seemed so contradictory, right next to each other, but i suppose that’s what happens when you try to write on what it’s like to be human.
Malia Jan 13
The poetry
Claws at my rib cage
Like it’s a real cage.
Like it’s minimum wage
Come to pay up, pay a price.
It 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘴 like blood
Or bone.
It blooms like a flower
Then crashes like stone.
It flows out of my lips
Like music’s own bile—
Life’s a trial by fire
But this is fire by trial.
Rama Krsna Dec 2021
you and i
may soon be gone,
but these three magical words
“i love you”
etched in the metaverse
will stay on.....
immortalized forever!

© 2021
Rama Krsna Jul 2021
tis a perfect summer evening. a blood shot moon inches across the night sky in the city of sin. the sage and the enchantress sit at an outdoor cafe under a lantern lit tent exchanging life stories, as a vintage bottle of ‘82 margaux loses its virginity.  

she could’ve been off the cover of Vogue. clad in haute couture, her slit eyes sparkle like the diamond butterfly ring, she elegantly sports. her complexion near flawless. he on the other hand, a hippie, a yogi and ancient as Rome. living proof that the hour glass can indeed be brutal on a city dweller.

her doe eyes dart from the past to the future while his steady gaze stays in the present. quite like the burning candle on their table. the mercury dips into the night as saintly time simply goes rogue.

written in the stars
this unusual kinship ~~
beauty and the beast

© 2021
LLillis Aug 2020
The morning glory
Suffocates the cucumbers.
But we don’t trim them.
We tried some basic vegetables in our first ever backyard garden box. The cucumbers had promise until the morning glory quickly took over. The flowers are pretty so we let them, without much consideration towards the loss of potential food. Now, taking time to reflect on the loss I am thankful for the ability to make that choice. To prioritize esthetics over nutrition, frivolity over necessity is truly the mark of privilege and should be at very least noted; and at best worked at to equalize.
Mona Jul 2020

as soon as i flow freely
i remember
there's a gate
dragging me to the past
back on goes the cast
it happens so fast

it feels like fate
as if i am cemented into the gate
the gate to my past
any glimmer of hope dashed in a blast
it happens so fast

my life is juxtaposition
of attempts to succeed
and temptation to bleed
addicted to pain
as if by virtue of loss there's nothing to gain

life punctuated by pain
i lay in bed
to rest my head
but there is goes again
my inner critic awakens
i submit, forsaken

the space where my life begins and ends
the juxtaposition reinforced
success left at the door
and pain endorsed
Dante Rocío Jun 2020
A tendency or trait I have
to sense,
comprehend what others may not,
and then for it to go
the other way round,
put all the way
into the oblivion back.
A child in mature sage's eyes
and a sage in a ignorantly joyful, gullible child's eyes
I am.
Robert Watson Feb 2020
Giving someone a gift
Instills bliss between both beings.
For a disregarded gift, however, inflicts insidious injury.
Thoughts of disgust and doubt
Spread throughout, as venom infects a festering wound.
Reflecting on a gift thoughtfully given to someone close to me, but it was cast out of their sphere of value.
Don Bouchard Jan 2020
Kissed Faith good-bye,
Stepped into the night,
Met a man on his way
To the Forest.

Faith behind him,
Uncertainty before,
Wavering on his way,
Brown faltered on.

Such a cloud of witnesses
As to keep him from this path!
But then they met him,
One by one,
Catechist and Minister,
Deacon and Elder,
Murmuring and gibbering;
Wise fools wending their way
To meet him
In a clearing, deep.

Pink ribbons falling,
Snake-head pointing
Feet now stumbling,
Then running before
In a wind of curses.

Firelight red,
Congregants cowled, silent,
Save the voice of Faith,
The near-initiate.

"Faith, Faith!
Look to Heaven!"
Resist the wicked one."

Woods silent;
Devil, fiends, fire ... gone.
Only Goodman Brown
To stagger home.

Ironic morning sight:
Smiling faces of Salem town,
'Gainst downward gazing
Goodman Brown.
Nathaniel Hawthorne's classic allegory.... What a story!
Ksh Dec 2019
There is a name calling out
in the silence of the mind.

There is a space
where clutter occupies.

There is a creation
at the end of destruction.

There is pain,
and love,
and pain again.

A wheel of self-abuse,
the likes of which gets us high
in each and every revolution.
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