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Jeff S 20h
skirting the rusty rose of a brooch
dangling on canvas bodice as she leans
tightly over me; the waves of wrinkles
on her be-bangled red hands pointing to the
wrong punctuation; this is dream-building
in the fifth grade; don't end the dream
too soon, she gruffs sing-song like
a prize-winning racoon; and still applauds
the bricklaying we so clumsily feign
for our castles in the sky; tho she, too,
dies of cancer in the last year; the tubes at the
very last weaving through the canvas;
something of a final stitch to the making
of a dream; and so i think all dreams in me
they die in darkness and still i wonder
what happens to the crenellated castle
walls i abandoned scores of years and
many As ago; and still we pat our doeeyes
on their infinitile heads and **** our
cynical shacks-by-the-forest-fires back
into our heads, begging beneath the
damp light of early-onset reverie: save
us, won't you, from the stiff stillborn of
dreams our generation lost to the fantasy
of getting what the saddest, dreamless
dollared dupes decree; oh be better yet for me,
my naive sums, and take your brick-laying;
your canvas sheen; your impossible, doubtless
dreams with broach and gnarl; with gruff and
soundless trill; your soulful self metastasized  
with every beat
to the happy grave.
Caloris 2d
Learn more than you can teach yourself -- teach more than you know yourself!
Similar to:
"When one teaches,
Two learn." - Robert Heinlein
I look back on the year behind me
filled with a continuous loop of mountains and valleys
the photos and scraps representing vivid memories
convention badges and hospital bracelets
bottles of nail polish and vials of blood
bonding over a restaurant meal with friends
and choking down a frozen dinner in a bout of fatigue
the moments of joy and devastation
sometimes i’m told i’m lucky
other times i’m told i’m strong
i’ve kept on moving either way
each minute is transformative
chipping away at the rock to create a new sculpture
a year is a lesson
an adventure
a journey
WOAH NEW POETRY?? heck yeah dude!! it’s been two months but your fave finally wrote something new because the end of the year is a time for ~reflection~ and yeah that title is inspired by Rent don’t touch me
I am not a morning person
Not naturally at least
When one would try to wake me early
I’d be likened to a beast

Times have thus since changed
And I’ve been savoring the morning dew
Just get the ol’ gears turning  
That’s all you ought to do

One foot out of the covers
Followed by the other
Swiftly rise upon both
And like that you’re your own mother

It’s a triumph to be horizontal
Out of those sweet sheets
And unless you’re completely mental
Don’t look back or skip a beat

But do not fret I tell myself
There you will return
For a siesta or a slumber
It soon will be your turn
Xallan 6d
Sometimes I forget-

Knowledge is slippery like a wet frog
Near impossible to pin down,
Look it in the eye, and demand answers,
Kissing it with unfulfilled wishes.

Memory too, what's loved is past,
Fallen into gaping black holes of time
Where synapses have failed and died,
Neurons curl away like sensitive ferns.

Oh how pain is forgotten! And failure,
I as an individual cannot remember
My fallacies, nor will history recall-
So that no one will ever learn.
Can you feel it
Hanging in the spaces
Between our exchanges?

I hope you do,
I’m trying
To show you,  
I love you
Arianna Dec 5
Time indeed heals deep wounds,
And at last, in its invisibly-working slowness,
The brine of have-beens
would, could, and should,
No longer sears my tongue
Spreading bristling flames of silence to lips
In the nexus between stirrings-of-Essence and their expressions,
Choking desire
With the brambles of the brier
Crawling along my throat,
Throttling the voice,
Of itself.

Of myself.
The words won't say themselves. :)

"And though some still feel like boulders
Bulging and scraping
Out from my lungs, trailing blood
As they fall from my lips,

All dissolve into rose petals
Traversing the air between us,
Floating, dandelion syllables
In all directions
As the chorus grows, echoing
Mile to mile with
The infinity of minds in synchrony.

For with each amber pebble spoken,
I float higher
And am free."
Justyn Huang Dec 3
I wonder which bird
was the First to
step off its perch
enough times to Fly

Or were all birds born that way?
Then what is the average number
of times each one fell until their
wings could carry them High?

Definitely not the penguins or the dodos
But I know that anyone can try.
I’m sorry
for bleeding
on you, my sweet,
When you didn’t even cut me.
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