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Adam Kinsley Oct 2020
I wander in wonder, a kin to dysfunction
Cruel silence stole solace from these feeble fingertips
Adrift, my memories spurn my conscience, coercing calamity

All which I have retained is bitter self-loathing:
A quiet and fleeting contention to vex all I have known
My motives have melted, like wax wings in the sunlight

Catharsis is for the strong of heart, not the bullheaded
By no means have I escaped this labyrinth
My blood is on my own two hands

These erratic desires have turned bitterly against me
Discord is unbridled between these once cordial synapses
As unkempt remorse refuses to flee...
Rachel Sep 2020
horse-drawn, shrouded in a ring of fire
blazing heart on chariot
a vestal hyacinth
dipped in liquid sunset
lips dripping ambrosia
with a kiss of paparouna
Apollo and Hyacinth
I did not choose for it to happen
I did not have a choice
But the gods
They do not care.

And so my hair is naught but snakes.

I came to this cave-
I had to eventually-
My only choice was when.

Still,  I chose the time of my own volition-
the people do not care.
They  blame me.
They say it was my choice to be struck
And drowned
And violated
In the temple I lived in.
They say i deserved the poison,
And they call me a monster.
The snakes may bite me,
But I choose who else they attack.

It is not my fault it happened.
The curse is not my fault.
The people, constantly attacking me and being killed for it-
It is their fault.
And it is the gods’ fault too.


The gods-
They do not care.
They send a boy to attack me,instead of doing it themselves.
Perhaps they feel guilty.

They do not care.

I cannot choose to die-
But I can choose when.
And so i open my eyes-

Foolish.
Used as an object, even in death.
inspired by https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poems/150926/medusa-with-the-head-of-perseus
Mystic Ink Plus Sep 2020
He cried
On behalf of all

Country to the saying
Men don't cry
Genre: Observational
Theme: Tear heals
Alienpoet Sep 2020
Is romantic love a myth?
a gift
staring at me from shop windows
and shopping carts
life has given birth to art
but is art another way to lie
inside the tears I cry
they sparkle like diamond dust in the sun
poetic lies go around they sparkle for everyone...
Khaab Sep 2020
She was not a twig
you could crush under your feet.
She was the Giant Sequoia
with roots of values deep inside the earth.
It was not that easy to move her!


P.S: Do google Giant Sequoia!
Carlo C Gomez Aug 2020
Broken flight

They went down somewhere
in the trees

The sky is sad
and full of remorse

But never Calliope

Broadway and 52

God knows
they got to you

She sings songs
of their misfortune

Decidely the muse and
mother of importune
tinkerbell,
she's a substitute for the real thing,
she doesn't exist
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5Hk3Ep9ROms&t=101s
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