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Folake Jun 2020
People are damaged, messy and imperfect. They fail me time and again.

They will never be enough to mend the broken person I am, they will never be enough to heal my soul.
I'm constantly realizing that no one can help me but myself and even I don't want to.
Meera Jun 2020
to be needed by everyone
but wanted by none
if i disappear tomorrow the only thing you'd probably miss is a clean house
Abdallah Osman Jun 2020
Roses are red
Violets are blue
And you are you
The less the better
The more the clutter
But then again the more the better

Where do we create that gentle balance?
Who wins the ballot?
A smaller perimeter with pockets of silence?
Every soul needs it.

Or a much larger one with lots of nuisance?
You'll find your heart bleeding.

Happiness is when your needs are way less than your wants.

Don't paint up your wants into needs,
and you'll feel lighter.

A greater form of happiness is when you fix someone their necessities.

We're mostly counting up to 65 or so, let's not spend most of the journey in tears.

But in hardwork, minimalism, kindness, hope and happiness.
Kairosclere Jun 2020
Her untamed words
Were the sole things
The world needed
To survive
For yet another day.
Riley OHalloran Jul 2020
My fingers are shaking—
is it dehydration or weariness?
Is it the weight of the world and my brother
saying, “Why didn’t you eat sooner?
What didn’t you go to sleep earlier?
Take care of yourself more.”
He’s just looking out for me.
Mahogany Ree May 2020
your wants are your wants
never stop wanting . . .
. . . just stop focusing on them 
dwelling in your want
will make you miss what you need
wants
will
be
fulfilled. . .
when they're supposed to be
and if they are never fulfilled
then so let it be . . . 
. . . you've lived all this time without them
maybe . . . 
. . .  that's fulfillment within itself


© Mahogany Ree
5-29-20
Regina May 2020
This poem is not the more
traditional fare,
in fact, my humor can
actually scare,
Fartina is a twenty-five
pound, quite pooty dog,
most of the time her
poots make no sound,
But, trust me, your
olfactory sense will
know when she's around.

Debilitating flatulence
emits from her ***,
trust me, you'll run,
it isn't fun-
being in a room with her,
in fact, you'll cuss the little cur,
When salespeople come to
the door,
the only way to get them to
leave, for sure,
is to pretend Fartina is a
well mannered mixed breed,
then, when they pet her,
green clouds arise,
and their faces scrunch up,
no surprise.

She has her own waiting room
at the vet,
because her gaseous emissions
are the worst yet,
so, if you need to give your
in-laws the boot,
give Fartina a burrito,
they'll run, the old coots !!!!!
My late dear husband always thought my humor was, well, depraved. My young grandchildren love this poem.
Riz Mack May 2020
ur Fa¢es a ma.sk
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to dehumanise
to inc€ntivi$e
y.our neighb.our
not
NnNot y.our friend
it cou/d be y0u
you OR us
u r us
w3 are the ¢0llect)-(ive
a Unit
reAdy And Able
to b€e counted
e¥es and 4our willing limbs
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a Pr0phet MachiNe
no 0ld man is anN island
No ma.sk has a Fa¢e
Asominate May 2020
Who needs emotions when there are people to please?
Who needs doctors when you’re the source of the disease?
Who needs human functions to live when you’re deceased?
Who needs love when it’s certain you deserve to bleed?
Who needs?
Afterall, who needs? Certainly not I!
Victor Havel Apr 2020
"Ok let see what happen",
says cerebral palsy in the form of my son
he chants the names of his favorite characters

wiggle around the clock
wiggles

he walks with scissor steps and looks at me with a puzzled expression
when I lose my temper.

he was born dead but was saved just before he could
learn how traumatizing life is
he sees ghosts
a poem about my son who has cerebral palsy
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