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JKirin Sep 5
Magic beans and fairytale lattes
ease your burdens, supply you with strength.
To survive through yet one of your Mondays,
sip the warmth and release a held breath.
about the magic of coffee
Raven Feels Jul 12
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, nice day:>


to be rich is to notice the fair from the unfair
give no judge to wisdom from the first stare
but not on the Earth thing
the brutality royal flushes and stings

now I fear
that someday that wheel is put to gear
put the cursed paper
on a thorny throne later

afraid my nose would sniff the skies
afraid my hopes would tear my early rise
afraid my greed would bury my shame
afraid my humor would be trashed in lame

not for me
a jeopardizing frisbee
my tarnished house warmer than a fancy chimney
promise my dreams in purple
faithful to myself would never be a hurdle


                                                                                       ------ravenfeels
Raven Feels Jul 1
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, the grass is not green:)


too much to bare
the polar twins resemblance in no fair

now the run I understand
still the twist of burning faces is what I can't

ran wind free
a second of nothing but me

the blonds in uniqueness stand under the red light
wait until the fear cripples and the big dog bites

the tea boiling somewhere for no one to drink
the ruined building leaves a pile to think

pupils dilate
thoughts shrink swallowing the bate

yet the crowd remains
I shower in public and fingerprints don't stain

a red rock star barks
stage shakes and throats are mic marked

nice dreams but crap
the plutonian not funny when children under your feet you have

                                                           ­                      -------ravenfeels
Grace Haak Mar 7
Start by hitting snooze
Twice for good measure
Leave the house just a few minutes later
Turning right into a jam
A thick, slow traffic jam
Viscous car molasses
But much less sweet
Sit there for a second
Simmering in sweat
Your blood begins to boil
Your hands begin to clench
Grip the steering wheel
Watch the clock tick time away
Curse your screeching alarm
Curse the convertible in front of you
Curse Monday mornings
Curse anything but yourself
Know that screaming at the cars
Won’t make that red turn green
But do it anyway
Honk your horn
Flash an unfavorable finger
To the vehicles doing the same to you
How is it rush hour
When everything is lagging
Your will to move is sagging
Roll your eyes at the radio
Wishing listeners a good morning
Oblivious to your mini meltdown
Once you can peel away
And break through that barrier
Sprint down that street
Swerving aggressively
Whip into the parking lot
Pretend your throat isn’t hoarse
And your knuckles aren’t white
Go about your day
Get excited for tomorrow morning
Tuesdays are better
Right?
how-to poem
Past Mar 8
Dear motivation,
Without you I’m just a loading screen stuck in its animation.
Dear motivation,
Without you I’m lost in a void of lazy fascination.
Dear motivation,
Without you I’m just another piece of lonely fabrication.
Dear motivation,
Without you I’m stuck in a loop of endless imagination.
Dear motivation,
Without you I would lose my only foundation.
WaterSheep Jan 15
You are the caffeine,
In my bitter cup of coffee.
Drew M Jan 6
They have all signed their names in the register,
they are figures in a satirical play
the city is veiled with smoke
It’s 5 o’clock.
Rapunzel is in her tower
which she built it up herself  
without doors or any window
above
beneath there’s Orwell’s world;
Merida is still running through the forest,
She wants to find a brigand
To go after the gargoyle’s register,
But the forest is burning.
And the Little Mermaid,
No longer came from the depth;
Though Peter Pan is still flying,
To find a curious
Sleeping Beauty
*
It’s 5 o’clock
and they have signed the register
they are people in a satiric world
they have covered the city
mark soltero Dec 2020
today i’m ****
yesterday i was perfect
tomorrow i hopefully won’t feel worthless
Past Nov 2020
Winter’s early months,
Carries a solemn sound,
Paired bitter fragrance,
Filled the vacant soul,
Think soley of biting frosts.

Winter’s middle months,
Assemble a bird’s tune,
Matching candied scents,
Known of lining mind,
Broods of woeful age.

Winter’s late months,
Carts a vivid air,
Coupled **** savored,
Divines the untold echo,
Fashions a taper edge.
Life is so wretched
You are not effectual
You are bound to desociate
If not today than some day
If not now than then
So why not enjoy today?
Why not enjoy now?
So is it? Life so miserable....
All you can think about life is here
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