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Draven Brass Oct 8
A face.
A smile.
Emotion in Denial.
To paint a picture, my heart needs a mouth.

What's spoken is a lie, my mind remains unsung.
Emotions in a jumble, death lies on the tongue.
That Girl Aug 25
“What’s your name again?”
He asks me.
“Have we met before?”
He asks me.
Yes we’ve met.
I remember the first time I saw you up close.
I was too scared to look into your eyes so I just looked at your hands.
I could’ve looked at them all day.
They were beautiful.
Not in a soft and polished kinda way,
but a strong and rough way.
It’s like they told stories of your manhood and all I wanted to do was put them up to my face and listen to what they had to say.
But you ask me…
“What’s your name?”
I guess you were all business.
Filming for your job and I was just a prop.
A nameless
plain
unimportant
prop.
You had to edit over an hour of footage with me in the background.
Twirling the ribbon in my Bible scared that if I looked up I would just stare at you.
You had to type my name.
First and last.
But you ask me…
“What’s your name?”
I thought of us before even laying eyes on you.
I remember the first time I saw your face.
We’ve only been going to church together for three months now.
I’ve only been staring at you every Sunday for three months now.
But you ask me…
“What’s your name?”
Your profile popped up on my Facebook and I thought it was fate.
I wasn’t looking for your profile.
I didn’t even know your name yet.
I lost sleep because of you.
It wouldn’t surprise me if I said your name in my sleep.
I checked your socials like an old man checks the morning paper.
But you ask me…
“What’s your name?”
Don’t worry about my name,
if you don’t know it now you will never learn it.
If you wanted to remember my name you would have.
So don’t waste my time with asking me now.
“WHAT’S YOUR NAME?”
My name is worthless
unlovable
invisible.
But I don’t say any of this out loud.
I tell you my name while I feel my heart tighten.
My name is…
But once I tell you my name you repeat it like it’s a question.
It’s like a song I want to play on repeat until I get sick of it.
I want to hear you say my name over and over and over again.
But you won’t.
You have another girl’s name to say.
While you forget mine,
I remember yours like a bad song I wish I never heard.
A song that’s so bad it’s good.
What’s my name…
Maybe my name isn’t worth remembering.
reyftamayo Aug 10
lamyos ng dampi ng ginaw
sa tuyong balat
ng nilikhang kanina pa ay
naghihingalong kumakampay
sa gilid ng dagat
sa gitna ng disyerto
sa loob nitong lunsod
na kayraming pangako
bigo
nilalasap ang pabagu-bagong
init-lamig ng malungkot
na ihip ng hangin-usok
may ibinubulong na mensahe
nagmula pa sa kung saang daigdig
pumapaimbulog sa kalawakan
parang naglalaro
tumatawag
nakikipag-away
nanunukso
naghahagilap ng kaunting pansin
na wari ba ay kasing kulay
ng bahaghari
kahit na walang inilimos na tubig-ulan
kahit na sadyang kaydilim
ng sanlibutan
That Girl Jul 28
Ever since the 5th grade I was “that girl.”
“That girl” that was always picked last for the team.
“That girl” who eats lunch alone in the hallway.
“That girl” who listens to her music on full blast.
Block out the thoughts that remind me of who I am.
“That girl.”
Nameless.
Easily forgotten.
What’s “that girl’s” name again?
Overshadowed.
Cropped out of photos.
Cut out of memories.
It won’t be long until I’m no longer “that girl.”
I’ll just be “that girl” everyone has forgotten about.
I’ll be nothing.
Tizzop Jun 12
discipline keeps the mind focussed
a sick laughing in the background
rivers of knowledge, psychology

i got your back if you got mine
ancestors stole my land, my brain
existence revolves around dollars

you don't know the voices in my head
they are trying to control me, kid
how can they spot my very location?

i was born in a dump, my father a drunk
my momma died during my birth; my fault?
let me blow up all the golden buildings

my mind be the place where i make plans
people told me that "slang" was "horrible"
nobody has to like that, you feel me?

my skin color is black and white, you know?
don't let them get into my head, **** voices
can i walk the streets freely? who trusts me?

golden opportunities all over the place
don't ask a nameless what his name is
he will never tell you but shoot someone

it's simply not wise, we want justice
when your heart is turning ice cold
hour of the *******, hour of the sucker

the bassline trembles, i'm shivering
females are entering my safe house
armed with prejudices and dishonor

i'm already dead, words chocked me
too much poetry, nowhere to go
**** this end, i will come back!
Today is a weird day.
Shema (“Listen”)
by Primo Levi
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

You who live secure
in your comfortable homes,
who return each evening to find
warm food and a hearty welcome ...

Consider: is this a “man”
who slogs through mud,
who has never known peace,
who fights for scraps of bread,
who lives at another man's whim,
who at his "yes" or his "no" lies dead.

Consider: is this a “woman”
shorn bald and bereft of a name
because she lacks the strength to remember,
her eyes as void and her womb as frigid
as a winter frog's?

Consider that such horrors have indeed been!

I commend these words to you.
Engrave them in your hearts
when you lounge in your beds
and again when you rise,
when you venture outside.

Rehearse them to your children,
or may your houses softly crumble
and disease render you equally as humble
so that even your offspring avert their eyes.

Primo Michele Levi (1919-1987) was an Italian Jewish chemist, writer and Holocaust survivor. He was the author of two novels and several collections of short stories, essays, and poems, but is best known for If This Is a Man, his account of the year he spent as a prisoner in the Auschwitz concentration camp in ****-occupied Poland. It has been described as one of the best books by one of the most important writers of the twentieth century. His unique work The Periodic Table was shortlisted as one of the greatest scientific books ever written, by the Royal Institution of Great Britain. Levi's autobiographical book about his liberation from Auschwitz, The Truce, became a movie with the same name in 1997. Keywords: Holocaust, poem, Italian, translation, man, mud, woman, bald, nameless, houses, homes, bread, eyes, womb, empty, void, frigid, lifeless, horror, horrors, hearts, write, etch, engrave, inscribe, children, offspring, disease, avert, reject
what do you call this?

this ******* void, this deep hole
dug up by us both in each other
i know you feel this too
we share this now, as we shared all else

my phone plays your favorite song
as i'm out for a run

cars on the road start moving faster and i'm thinking
if the hit would hurt less if i close my eyes

****** by this absence of you

this isn't love,
this is the feeling you get
after it leaves.

-melancholicreator
if you enjoyed please consider reposting to share with others. <3
Colm Aug 2019
Pain, no conscious name
Be known, but never the less
In present heaven
Tuesday 12 - You ever have a dream like that? One that you really don't want to wake up from, again and again? Lol. #recently
Hemlata Roy Aug 2019
They go on searching in Kingdom of happiness
Trying to find a place of
kindness.

When they realise that it is a barren field
Unexpected failures break their dream.

They are not searching for castle and king
But a crowd of dreams that they're loving .

Wearing a crown is not the only source of a beautiful smile
It is a strange heaven where nameless happiness lies.
'Strange heaven' one of the best poems written by me. It is my favourite poem.
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