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Zaza Apr 2019
When you left

You taught me
To only love men
who do not know of all the ways a heart can be shape shifted into broken
ogdiddynash Jul 2018
daily provisioning

wallet  watch  testicles  spectacles
cash (single bills) cell phone
bottle of water   hairbrush with vanity attached,
personal technology baggie
(earbuds, variety of charging cords etc.)
loose change in order to fall from pockets & annoy yourself
sunglasses (idiot! summers half over) and something else...

pocket tissues!

skin and bone, muscle, all flavors and multilayers,
a language of music only you hear,
the pumping station internal, the gaga motion
product of the palette of body following souled emotions,
the antacid pills after that burrito;
and that strangely named thang called

libido?

your teeth  your smile, your shyest guile,
to catch that lady’s hopefully.        
reciprocated pearly whites delight,
pen and pad to record being a sad and mad good lad,
a Swiss Army knife if the tube or bus
should (will) breakdown,
your tiny little bottles of
inspiration  perspiration and perspective,
that you forgot to

label

the list to do and the list
to add to the to do list
and good heavens,
a serious writing utensil
to fool yourself when
thinking serious thoughts like

these

the last but should be first,
the house keys!!
keys just an enabler
to do it all again

tomorrow  




July 11, 2018  10:22pm
There’s nothing worse than a girl desperate for love:

A girl that pities herself enough to think she is so intrinsically broken
she couldn’t even connect with someone biologically destined to love her;
A girl stupid enough to learn that love is a reward that she must earn,
yet frantic enough to always work too hard for it;
A girl that overcompensates. Begs. Forces.
A girl that claims she ‘Doesn’t know what to do with love’
when it comes along, so that, naturally, she can smother it;
A girl who’s biggest fear is abandonment, yet is an expert on expecting too much;
A girl that’s waiting to be saved, but would tell you she doesn’t deserve it;
A girl that still obsesses over ways she has been bruised
when surrounded by people that have helped her heal;
A girl who’s self involved, with no sense of self;
A girl that cries. And cries. And cries.

There’s nothing worse than a girl desperate for love.
gabrielle Jan 2019
watch me see,
watch me feel,
watch me do everything
of my list of dreams.

except for one thing,
and that is to be loved by you,


even for a moon

who gleams.
at this very young age of mine
i already knew that of this
long list of my wishes, i still
wouldn't achieve the last one.
Whit Jan 2019
that crick in your neck when you're looking at books

sometimes violets pop up early

there is always chocolate

it's fun to get letters in the mail

things are going to be ok.

rainbows happen (or you can just draw some)

there are babysitters getting bored of peek-a-boo

drinking really cold water when you just finished exercising

again, chocolate

i know this looks like
nothing more than a list
but, it's a new year and
for some reason
in the middle of
silly traditions
we can get a little
booster of hope.

things are going to be ok.
Overwhelmed by the possibilities
My thoughts race in my head
Grabbing concepts and ideas
Faster than I can comprehend
Like a hamster wheel
No matter how far I go
My thoughts remain
With no action to show
I cannot indulge in my obsession
As it turns into a phase
Overshadowed by another infatuation
So easily it can be replaced
I want to do everything
Yet have the energy to do just one
The choices overwhelm me
I'm left with a list undone
Anya Dec 2018
Today I drank straight peppermint tea
Normally I’d sweeten it
With spoonfulls of
Sugar or honey

Today I read five chapters straight
Normally I’d take
Frequent breaks

Today I didn’t check my phone once
Normally I’d do it at least
Seven times

Well,
We’ve all gotta grow up
Some time
I guess
Anya Dec 2018
Poetry is for thinkers, I think
Those who’d spend their days dreaming away
Or those who, in a moment of passion
Scrawl down their thoughts
On little post it note poems
No matter the medium
Though, one can not deny
Poetry is for thinkers

Now, this past week I’ve been a doer
Typically, my lazy temperament
Would prevent this
But things happened
And more things needed doing
Without a doer to do them

And now my mind has switched
And all I can think to do is do
Rather than think to think, reflect
My mind has transformed
From a dreamland
To a bucket list
I see the students looking at me as I teach
I see their bored, dull faces
I see anxiety, and the deep, passionate boredom of angsty teens
I hear them behind me as I write on the board for them to learn

About Walt, about list-poems, and life, you see
They are whispering and think I do not hear
True story
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