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Emilyn 7d
im overcome with the need to reinvent myself and confess everything to everyone, to become so open that im bleeding out every secret ive ever had to keep all over the linoleum floor, but second thoughts stitch me back together with needles made of words meant to cut, whittled down thin enough to fit just underneath the skin, pulling gashes in my skin together with online threads about checking up on your friends that everyone reads and nobody listens to, performative pieces that people regurgitate to make you think they care but they dont, because we're too busy worrying about ourselves to think of anybody else. we're conceited by nature, reverse narcissists kneeling by a river, scrutinizing our reflections, searching, aching for imperfections so we can say "look at how horribly ugly i am and pity me". we're too proud to be pitiful and too pitiful to have any pride, paradoxical advertisements of lonely people too scared to ask for love.

my hands are shaking and my mind is buzzing and if this makes any semblance of sense to you then I am so terribly sorry.
i chugged an energy drink before spanish class and came up with this mess of metaphors. enjoy.
Marmaelady Oct 15
Despite the fall
You raise me up
Holding me in your arms
Letting me be the best I can be
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Can I be your paradox too?
I will never not love you, my favourite poet.
M C Oct 9
A watched *** never boils
It just stews and spoils
Raw emotion roils
with hidden meaning
that coils inside hats
made from tin foil:
Salute the loyal
All hail the royal
Society demands toil
Cars demand oil
We all carry addictions
Fun  burdens
Potato chips on shoulders
or maybe running when we're older
from the past
or what's ahead
Shatter the lie; we started off dead
Even living is a distraction
Even disgust can be attraction
Nothing is connected.
The world turns by effect from action
Choose illusion resurrected
share life with those affected

Looks like my mind flew the coop
so I'll shut up and serve some soup
Asominate Sep 2
A mask of myself
The mask is me
If they think it's just a mask
They won't believe in the me that is real
What do I owe to you
Who loved me deep and long?
You never gave my spirit wings
Nor gave my heart a song.
But oh, to him I loved,
Who loved me not at all,
I owe the open gate
That leads through heaven’s wall!
(By Sara Teasdale)

እዳ

በደንብ ጠበቅ አድርገህ ላፈቀርከኝ
የምከፍለው ምን ወሮታ አለኝ?
ለነፍሴ ክንፍ አለገስካት
ለልቤም መዝሙር አልሰጠሃት፣
ግን፣ ውይ፣ ለወደድኩት ላላፈቀረኝ፣
ዕዳ አለብኝ፣ በሩን ያለው ከፈት፣
በግድግዳወ አርጎ ሠተት
የሚያዘልቅ ወደ ገነት!
Compare this poem with my  latest poem Enigma
Carlo C Gomez Aug 26
Captain
Is such an abrasive term
Call me zebra instead
Call me every other weekend
Salute the system
Or form a mutiny
As disciples of Moby ****
Just be sure rank and file
Are futile

Everything now is beautiful

Rainbirds
Caged in your barbed-wire heart
Jaded feather friends
In migration
Tasting shapes
And drawing blood
From artistic wings
As freedom of flyway must
Still belong to the rule

Everything now is beautiful

Hopscotch
On sorted sidewalks
Ride the escalator instead
Up one floor
To the mezzanine
That panders to
The perversions of quiet girls
Innocence outshines
Experience
When the hemisphere is
Short on lifeboats
And late for school

Everything now is beautiful

The missing world
Beneath our feet
Is what the ocean
Tells us about ourselves
"From swerve of shore
To bend of bay"
Check the notes
In the margin
Postcards and maps
Depicting these dazzle ships
And the angry waters
They chart
Are always of
Skinny-dipping
Sea vessels
Her mons and ponds
Face-up
And full frontal

Everything now is beautiful

Dove taking
Swan keeping
We've power against dreams
We've articles of war
So this line is expendable
An anguish languish
Deep deep down
Turning with the wave
Against the sound
Where we sailed on from one love
To find another
As usual

Omnes una manet nox
(One night is awaiting us all)
Dibs Aug 26
Life is unfair
I’ll tell you
He’s really unfair.
But he’s not selfish and cruel
Good to few.

He prosper
Those who cling to him
He’s generous
To those who ask
But still
Unfair.
To everyone.
Out there.
The Giver, The Taker and The Stealer
This time I do not write
It is becoming trite and trite
Thousands daily die
You aren't an exception
I realise
Sooner or later everyone has to die
And everybody is sent to heaven
By the near and dear ones
Who wouldn't like heavenly abode over earthly tie?
You get it once you are done
It's then a great fun
Those in the earthly abode cry
For the one, who made the earthly heavenly, died
I have heard there's a place called 'hell'
Never heard anybody sending the dead there to dwell
So it must be an empty place
Heaven, of course, overcrowded with human race
O' Lord, l prefer to live in seclusion
Hell is created on this earth too without confusion
Your 'hell' would be a better place I guess
There being no one to create hell in 'hell'
This time I do not write
It is becoming trite and trite
In telling I do not write, I write
Russell's paradox is in sight
Nothing contains everything
In everything there is nothing!
How come
The heart-wrenching
And the  unexpected
Widow's grief
Turned-brief?

The lady in black
Soon defying
Funeral decorum
Put on pink clothes
Decency that lack
Simply to attack
A deceased
Cheating husband
Whose unfaithfulness
Kept in the dark
Soon after funeral
Became stark!

Aghast adultery
Triggers
He'll knows no fury.
Some mourners could learn their spouse's affair after they ceased to be
Oh women
They **** a man
Who could die for them
Taking them a gem
And die for he
Who could **** them
With love's clem!
A remark by a woman about women. First I wrote it like
Oh women
They **** a man
Who could die for them
And die for he
Who could **** them!
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