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LONE STAR Mar 17
Tonight, I just want to make love
Not with a person
But with my passions
I want to tap the strings of my guitar
Caressing it with the fondest of desires
Driving myself over the edge
To get that beautiful intoxicating feeling
A beautiful high

I want to take my pen
Lightly stroke
Every line I write
Brushing softly against my quilt
As I get my pages wet
Spread so apart
To get the perfect feel
I want to taste them on my tongue
So they flow

I want to exercise my vocal cords
Into soft delightful noises
To give you thrill
I’ll start low then go high
As the pace increases
I’ll hit that high note
Leaving goosebumps
All over your skin
Then the music
Will at least be heard
write poet deep lines
MetaVerse Mar 11
There once was from Lima a llama
Created by Pachayomama:
     He munched on some greenery,
     Ascended the scenery,
And surveyed the whole planorama.
why do people self harm?
why do I self harm?
I am only a child, after all.
do you like my cuts?
do you like my pretty scars?
I made them just for you...
oh.. mommy doesn't like my cuts?
daddy yelled at me too.
pretty red lines
dancing in a row
some deep, some thin
some still bleeding
oh
I've gone too far again.
I wrote this during an episode in my journal.
April 8th 2024
Bekah Halle Feb 4
As I sit at my dining table this morning,
The already hot sun
Caresses my face,
Lifting my eyes,
Golden rays singe
My retinas, my lids shut like a vault.
My mind teleports me
To a summer in South America.
I can hear fingers picking at guitar strings,
I see men with scruffy moustaches
and sombreros. And I
Smell fresh limes.
I lick my lips and sigh,
“Oh, to be back there!”
Fully adjusted to the darkness,
Reality informs me its time for work.
Can I wear some earrings, a bracelet, a necklace
To remind me of this treasured memory?!
You used to be proud,
Of your long poems.
Now you second guess the length,
Of your grander pieces.

No one today has the attention,
To read lengthy things anymore.
So in consequence you’ve lost your substance,
To the ideas and ideals of an inattentive mind.
Arcassin B Jan 7
"Taking back the luxuries like elden ring,
We kept in line with everyone and we used rule everything,
Mind eyes idle find lies and identifies,
the soul shines , then finds time , to look toward
And reward instead of fighting these wars,
Instead do the research,
Look up how to stock up stores.
Still seeing it clearly."

New Poem Titled "Divine Riddim" (full poem link below)
https://arcassin.blogspot.com/2025/01/divine-riddim.html
Misstic Dec 2024
was i too ignorant to the world
known to me....
a sudden thought of realisation
Ken Pepiton Nov 2024
Seed
time
harvest
eat
think
form
seed
sewn

thinking
information
­unconfirmed
demonstrates
disinformally
monostichidity
stich in time, stacks of poetic license fine print permit and obligation.
Jay Oct 2024
Two poets, each with a distinct soul, shape similar sentiments in different forms. He dreams in paragraphs, broad and expansive, like clouds stretching across an endless sky. His words dive deep, exploring the hidden caverns of life’s stories. She, in contrast, dreams in lines, each one crashing with the precision of a wave. Every word is chosen with care, her stanzas offering brief yet vivid glimpses of a heartbeat. Her verses flow like a gentle whisper, artfully capturing emotions on display. Their forms may be distinct, yet their themes converge: love, loss, and longing, woven into words. They share their work openly, baring their hearts in a space where emotions find resonance. Each sentence pulses with passion, laughter, and stolen glances, their connection sparked from the very beginning. Together, they transform the stillness of night into shared moments, each word a bridge into the other’s world. As they read each other’s lines, each word becomes a cherished fragment. Their hearts, poured onto the page, collide and merge within the ink of their souls. Two poets, entwined, seek to understand the intricate design of love, its gentle, complex beauty. Each line written, every paragraph crafted, reveals their shared exploration through the labyrinth of love and uncertainty. Hand in hand beneath the starlit sky, they craft a story uniquely theirs, blending two beautiful voices into one. Who could have foreseen it? A poet of paragraphs, a poet of lines, falling in love with a beauty all their own.
Erwinism Sep 2024
Could you pawn enough courage to smile and pretend that everything is going to be fine? Just this time. One last time.

While the lines are blurred, and cries inside unheard, know that as the end unfurls it is that way by design.

As we cower like cowards in corners we run towards the cracks as the daylight chases us to remind us of the debt we owe for squandering every streak of light  on fights and afternoon delights, you and I knew somehow, we needed a place to hide. In an obscured sense, it is that of saying goodbye.

When I set the pen down and let ink bleed into the parchment, when I twiddle my thumbs cognizant of the things I meant, much is pondered about why the room in your heart I pay rent and as a tenant, I’m flagged delinquent.

And on your end, all along, you had all of me tucked in your hand. The silence too abstruse for one to comprehend and is unnerving.

Perhaps you found me undeserving of a love always teetering on the brink just waiting to succumb to gravity. Now the weight of unspoken truth bears down so heavily on us as we fall apart.

This throbbing anxiety seems to walk the road of eternity and in our insanity, we were two pyromaniacs playing fire with destiny, and destiny, a sadist as it may be, there is a horizon bordering its cruelty and honestly, we were vampires driving stakes in each other’s heart.

What I meant is speak your truth or forever hold your peace, for while we had our falling we loved nonetheless. No matter how we repress the past together you and I undressed and the future fraught with regrets, I must confess, though I detest, today we leave what we  had and we leave it to rest.
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