Autumn Joy Jan 6

i want to create a picture
not with my words
but how one normally
paints a fucking picture

it would be so cool
to be able to use a brush
or a pen or any tool actually
but i cannot fucking do it

so i will create a scene
with my writing to show
what i feel and how i see
because i may not be an artist

but i am poet

i feel so limited with what i can actually accomplish in the fine arts and that’s okay i guess i just have to keep going
lostboy Dec 2017

What you suppose is supposedly supposed to work.
There doesn’t seem to be any opinions that agree.
Everything will run it’s course;
This can make things worse.

Money making more people
Owning all the potential.
The most they see
Is not good enough.
How do they get there?

Minds are limited
By the limitlessly limited.
The highest gets higher,
Our sand comes from
Their rocks colliding.
How can we truly live?

It’s quite upsetting,
Knowing that my feet
May be forever sticking out
At the end of my bed.

                                                                                                     Oh well…
                                                                         It’s nice to imagine things,
                                                        Even if there’s no point in doing so.
                                                                       You can’t convince anyone,
                                                                                           Just let them go.

how do others think how they feel?
deeply unhappy Nov 2017

I’m reminded time and time again
that my days are numbered.
The bittersweet feeling fills me.
My throat feels tight
and my eyes sting as the tears fall down my face.

I dread the day I have to say
I dread the day my heart breaks just a little bit more.
I dread the day I am miles away from you.
I dread the day I leave.

You can't truly find what you're searching for if you just keep on wandering within your finite space.

© Cyrille Octaviano, 2017
Rebel Heart Aug 2017

Meeting you was a breath of fresh air
A new beginning
And a chance to forget the past

Little did I know our time was limited
The clock ticking
The sands escaping every moment in our hourglass

You never know when the person you meet might disappear, so hold them close and hold them tight and the longer they'll last...
(I miss you my one and only forever best friend and I'm crying just thinking about you)... ~BM
Aaron Gayan Jun 2017

Bumble down the always halls
Awkward in the way they walks
Desperate in the way they talks
Gaze flings hundred miles per hour inside
The tower of intimidation
sweat gets regarded as a river
Floor by floor the floorboards wable
Claims it’s an earthquake
Not the inner mechanical failure
Mangling the last shred of sanity
Processes of a rabid animal
Brain quivers, spine soils
Not gonna die in fight or flight
Metal smears apart to the moonlit tapestry
Strewn across the pathway
Climbing up the rotting yellow walls
All but tumbling
Running past the train of thought
Faster than a bullet
Clings to his kryptonite
In hopes she will solve him.

10 minute poem, no edits.
Danielle L Cook Jun 2017


I wanted more of you
  I wanted everything that you're not
  everything I know you could be, but can't
  wanted to feel you hold me, exactly like you are
  but different -- I wanted passion, undefinable
  not blind lust.


you wanted more from me
  you wanted everything I gave to you,
  everything I once gave you, but can't again
  wanted to feel me grope you, exactly like I am now
  but different -- you wanted lust, uncontrollable
  not love.

Unluckily, I am an offspring of two different genotypes,
For it, I so often face the reverse apartheid by a faction,
That faction particular is omnipresent in this nation.

Unseemingly, extremely patriotic I do feel except during cricket,
They look, at my face and deduce that I am not one of them,
That I speak their tongue more eloquently doesn't count..

Up North, they think that my nose is a bit like a Dravidian,
But down South, they often think that I am an Aryan,
That boycotts me in this land of the Indian nation...

I often get another kind of Apartheid, the diehtrapA.

HP Poem #1181
©Atul Kaushal
Sumit Ganguly Sep 2016

glows all day
sustains some life
cannot penetrate ant hill
has not seen sea bed
our star

Phim Aug 2016

I'm angry
I'm angry that this is the world we live in
I'm angry that I can't walk down the street without being harassed
I'm angry that I constantly have to think about how people will react to what I wear
I'm angry about the everyday inconveniences this world has made for me
But more than anything I'm angry that I have to think twice about helping an elderly man into his car
I'm angry that today there was a disabled man slowly pushing his wheelchair across the parking lot and I didn't help him
Because that's the world we have created
A world where we are consistently aware that even by being good we can be punished
I am so angry that I sat there and watched that man for ten minutes
And didn't move because how could I know that he wasn't another Ted Bundy
How could I know
We have created a world with such a deep chasm of distrust that I can't even believe that this poor man was truly disabled
As a woman I have to be afraid of a man in a wheelchair
A man who seemingly cannot walk still has the ability to terrify me
I am so angry
That I am limited
Not only by the things that I wear and the places in which I can go alone
But I am limited in my ability to make the world a better place
I am limited
And I am angry

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