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Masha Yurkevich Feb 2020

life makes you into a
tiny seed
and throws you into a
pile of ****.

But do not be fooled.

And do not be brought down.

With the right thoughts
and the right actions,

that pile of **** can become


and help you grow even stronger
than before.

Ashton Jul 2019
it's wood cut and clawed
markings of years of

built to be sturdy and strong
it's legs stir and shake
with every new addition

even bodies

til one day

Kivanc Feb 2019
Wrapping souls,
Always live down it,
Lands aren't awake now.

Don't burn,
Let it just stay,
Don't drive a stake to my mind,
Take me completely please my soul.

Weird phobia,
After odor left the room,
Dreams will stay, awake immediately!
Abby M Dec 2018
Some sit on a pile of books
Not knowing the worth of their seat
Not knowing that the paper holds the tongues of a thousand souls
They sit on their bright future
If only their legs could read
Silverflame Nov 2018
How is it possible to feel
so empty, when the negative
thoughts keep piling up?
Sally A Bayan Jul 2018
The pile is ever ready
whatever type of music we dig...a ditty,
old songs, contemporary...all in a jiffy,
instruments will be playing
words, vocalizing all feelings
maybe, a song of calm
coming before, or after the storm...
Notes hover above the piled 45s
look closely...find your desired jive,
let's find our favorite tunes
and take turns in  dropping coins,
record is pulled out...shortly, our song will play
hold disruptive elements at bay and i, we're gonna sway
as a full moon....rises from the bay
allow our feelings to speak
while we're cheek to cheek,
as much as we want, we may croon,
after we dance, maybe we'll swoon
the world is ours...we'll be alright
"there'll more lonely nights!"


© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
    September 4, 2017
(recapturing memories of the's a feel good poem,
esp. when paired with Paul McCartney's
  No More Lonely Nights...)
K Balachandran Jun 2018
loud sound of stomping,
cloud land revelries go on;
till all puke,go down!
H Phone Aug 2017
If my work were my child
It’d be the middle one
In between my perfectionism, the elder
And my self-loathing, the younger

I phone up inspiration
To help with the troublesome kid
But she never returns my calls anymore

Motivation, I haven’t spoken to in ages
She left when my insecurities
Got the better of me
Said I’d become a pathetic husk of a man

Look at me
I don’t even have the energy to rhyme
Better toss this one on the pile
With the rest of them

What’s the pile, you ask?
It’s where I keep all my
No-effort narratives
Forgotten frivolities
Miserable musings
Worthless writings
Inadequate ideas
Laughable lines
Soulless stories
Cold chapters
Terrible titles
Bad books

The pile is large
And it only gets larger
As time progresses
Because the quality
of something I write
Quickly regresses
neath the maple's boughs
copper leaves were tumbling
in a mounded pile
Fought against my fears,
Until now that they have become hate,
Pushing back those tears,
I am trying my best to find ways to meet my fate.

Carrying on my shoulders a heavy pile,
I hide my broken spirit behind that smile,
Locked myself away in the room,
My whole world has been feeling gloom.

Seems like the earth and its creatures have won once again,
I will admit that its not atitude,
We are just in diffrent altitudes,
All i can do is pace myself away from your latitude,
There has always been a different "Dear Friend"
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