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A sky not filled with sorrow,
A house not filled with dread,
A smile for a friend to borrow,
A soft kiss apon my head,

The dream of a beautiful tomorrow,
The hope of a joy filled day,
The strength of a friend I borrow,
The truth in their heart to show the way,

I am a blessing to those with me,
I am a lover of all that is good,
I am a person so filled with glee,
I am a memory for those that would,

To know and taste and see a do,
To feel and love and give and see,
To give and listen and hurt for you,
To be who I am and become who I'll be.

I will be here tomorrow and I am here with you now.
love eternal
Rich Dec 2022
Energy radiates and traces my body with celestial tones
I am more alive than I’ve ever been
when surrendering to awe and wonder
the same way my younger self fearlessly did

something about that glimmer hasn’t left yet, may never leave
memories still have flavors to me
mornings with a lake of flakes in my bowl
or years and years later when a fried hangover cure restores me
each month and its esculent flashbacks are a part of me
a cell in the skin
a beaten feather in the wing

something about the glimmer hasn’t left yet
the Earth is still new
and discoveries never expire:
new scenery
new explorations
new chronicles in the cinema
new kindred spirits
new waves of audio
new therapeutic solitudes
all balancing out the
new captivities
new mistakes
new mediocrity
new unhealthy solitudes
and more

until the body is a home base of homeostasis
commensalism at its finest

but something about the glimmer hasn’t left yet, may never leave
I outgrew shadows who doubted their expiration dates
I don’t rubricate the sky in a rage
don’t let the heartbreak pause a pulse
don’t let misanthropy obscure who I see
don’t let uncertainty’s web catch me in a paralysis

or at least I try

something tells me I’ll never “age out”
of my hunger to live fully
I know deep down you're similar
your craving will not fade into cinders

oh what a feelin!
To be trippin on nostalgia.
Carlo C Gomez Aug 2022
tonight the sky.

dark palette.

the stars are projectors.
the paintings of them are in
perpetual motion,
carry the zero.

conflicted still life.
of spathodea.
of pomegranate.
of her own folded-up *****.

it's all in how you interpret
the brushwork.
girls can tell.

a reassuringly dull sunday
turns to intrigue.
the busy girl buys beauty.

people are places and things.
lost affections in a room
in need of images
or at least explanations.

she looks for it.
she listens for them.

the sound of existing.
the sound of a quiet room.
a rainstorm or possibly the sound
of someone taking a shower.

blind little rain.

autosleeper lowers her head.
the economy of sleep patterns.
and little else celsius.

tonight the sky.

tomorrow a place where
one can ruin oneself,
go mad, or commit a crime
with paint.
Give me the sea and I'll drink it
all of it
Give me the sky and I'll blot it out
cut it out
leave the gaping earth barren of its liquid dressing
and leave the sky naked of its blue face
there is no compare
that is
not to say you are not enough for me
not at all
it is to say you are more than I could have desired
than I could have dreamed
and I do not tire of you
not in my darkest moments
when I'm stretched thin
and there is no longer
a devil-may-care draped about my addled mind
when my patience snaps
when my jaw clamps
my eyes droop
my brain thumps against my skull
not even then
with the last vestiges of civility held in grasp
not even then can I think to lash out at you
not even when you poke
or ****
plod about my sensibilities
maim my sensitivities
not even then
not even when you roll your eyes
give me that long 'hmmmm - really...'
I don't give in to the nagging,
nigh satisfying itch to shake with rage
and curse everything that stems from the womb
I am cool as a cucumber
placid as a windless lake
I roll my shoulders
flutter my eyelashes
look you up and down
'My... my... tired aren't you?'
Your shoulders slump
Your efforts to topple me abate
You nod your head
curl up on my lap
isn't it
how comforted we become
when we are offered solace
in exchange for an argument
that neither of us
would win?
The first line came to me and I thought it was so funny.
So I wrote out a poem for it and I hope you like it as much as I did writing it.


Megan Jan 2022
Who will teach these kid’s?
There’s too many, grown but not grown
Hiding behind the lie of maturity
Too many kid's in adults bodies
life tasted sweet
under your eyelashes,
******* strawberry-flavored flowers,
and spitting out the seeds
which would eventually grow into
humble spite.

when the ground was bare,
and the atmosphere was intact,
my eyes never left your fingers
and my sharp friend never forgot
the taste of my strawberry wrists.

bittersweet in the sense
that you tend to forget
that my fate is my gold
it is time to work.
it is time to get old.

we are never going back under this tree again.
(aren't we?)

for it is the calling.
it is time to speak with the tongue of love -
for myself.
no longer pink
from the strawberries.

i want to look loud,
i want the flavor of the world beyond.
i want to **** the clouds until they
gravitate back to earth.
i want to be satisfied,
not full.
full circle. life has changed drastically for the past years. i'm excited to get back to writing. i hope you're all doing well **
Wilkes Arnold Sep 2021
The bonsai grew all wrong
Its branches outweigh the base
And the wood is whispy and pale
Without the spring a sapling entails
It's big, much too big, too long
A band stretched past its place
Becomes a twig in impatient hands
Pressured, and snapped, and palmed
Bonsai's mature slowly
With snow and vibrant leaves
To rush things is more than lowly
You've sold their soul you thieves
That is what it is like
when somebody loves you
more than you love yourself.
You find you're loving them,
and in loving you trust,
both them and their judgment.

If he loves me for me,
and I love and trust him,
then I should love myself
just the way that I am.


I want to be the one
he is deserving of,
and I want to become
the best version of me.


It's not just for his sake
that I want to improve.
I'll grow and change for him,
but also for myself.

That is what it is like.
Rama Krsna Aug 2021
‘tis almost a full moon
yet again,
the sands of time slip-slide away
leaving her to contend
with a plethora of gray.

as the sunset glow lingers
drifting across a blue sapphire sky,
loneliness yearns company.

this wine has softened
during these intervening years,
laced with a maturity
that now speaks the language of wisdom.

© 2021
dedicated to  the ones who truly reflect
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