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Fumbletongue Oct 2017
Irony
The other word for
Karma
also known as
Poetic Justice
Ignatius Hosiana Oct 2017
Ask them with answers
stigmatize with anthers
shout loud in silence
**** them with kindness
suffocate them with air
give hope of despair
straighten with a bend
start with the end.
*Give what you take
fix with a break
curse to bless
and fight in
peace
Hashim ZK Oct 2017
A feeling
so atrocious
in its yearning:
it longs to win,
and also to be defeated
at the same time.
aesthenne Sep 2017
mornings--
they aren't always
pretty.

sometimes,
it's grey
like the rain
going over
your head.

at other times,
it's complete
darkness,
like the difficulties
of life.

how ironic it is,
that bitterness
can make it
better.
Randall Walker Sep 2017
A leaf is a leaf,
A door is a door,
I know I make no sense,
But you know what I mean.

These paradoxes blossom,
Bringing Infinite trim,
I'm 'yielding', I'm 'healing',
But the light only dims.
The darkness now light,
For each pore I fight,
My sight's insight in sight.

However,
I see
No heights
To which I can land.

Our reality (as we know it)
Is just for show,
Perhaps this reality, just my reality,

That's all we know.

If more is found,
We're found not to be,
Nulled replicants of nothing,
Destined to the void, to be.
The place where God lies dead,
And His expired creations go,
Stowed at His hands and feet.





Note:
Dinosaurs, Dragons, and hulk there included,
The illusion I alluded to is food for the fallen.
But hey,
These lines above have no meaning, am I right?
No bearing on life,
The same way my head has no hair.
Though,
'Hush,' I say to the breeze blowing through it,
I swear
I feel
a tickle there.
ENR Sep 2017
poetry is hard
everybody wants to read
your most personal thoughts

the only success you'll see
is when you paint your heart across the page
and pour your soul into pressing that simple "save"

my voice seems worthless until I spill my secrets for the world to see
but what if I want to keep secrets to myself
and let the world see what it thinks it wants

let me write soppy stories of summer days
or mornings filled with cliched coffee cups
loaded with the "real" problems every poet apparently has

the real Problem is that everybody has a problem with not having problems
why can't we be happy having perfect lives

instead, I have to pretend I have problems
when all I really have is the standard stress that comes with being young

The closest thing I have to a real problem is the parabola on my worksheet and the other math problems beyond it

I'm no different from any other aspiring author
wanting recognition for lying
and exaggerating
and imagining problems into existence

because no story exists without conflict
and no peace exists with problems
so we have a bit of a perfect problem paradox
HeartCore Sep 2017
If the future becomes uncovered it becomes the past.
and while the past becomes the present,
We tend to learn from our present experiences
rather than its histories
and its this undeniable Paradox
that We keep loosing our selves in our incoming present.
only the scars that stick with us
which give us a tint of reality, lives with us
in a paradoxical dimension always contradicting, and never False
Lyn-Purcell Sep 2017
Would that I could join you.
Would that I could ignore you.
Would that I could be you.
Would that I could skin you.
Would that I could love you.
Would that I could hate you.
Would that I could see you.
Would that I could blind you.
Would that I could free you.
Would that I could bind you.
Would that I could touch you.
Would that I could grab you.
Would that I could hold you.
Would that I could cage you.
Would that I could kiss you.
Would that I could **** you.
Would that I could...
Would that I...
Would that...
Would...
Wrote this in my journal
Lyn-Purcell Sep 2017
The world we live
in doesn't like
nice.
We live in a cruel world. I've noticed that people will walk all over you if you're nice. But the moment you strengthen yourself, they'll be begging you to go back to being nice again. We truly are living contradictions.
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