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I think to learn to love yourself you must know no harm is going to come from it.
You have to know it’s time.
It’s time to love the way your curls spiraling down and it’s time to love the curves because you learn in middle school it’s impossible to draw a straight line.
You have to love your smile. How the most simple things will warm your heart and even the little disruptions will bring you to tears.
But that’s okay, because it’s who you are.
It is time to love the way people walk away from you.
It’s okay that you did not give them what they wanted but you were what they needed.
It is time to love yourself.
make love to my tattoos.
kiss them, brilliant.
breathe into them the
elegant way that you live
easy, free, alpha.
my tattoos are
who i am
they are my insides as much as my outsides
i am turned inside out, even
lover girl, with flakes of skin
dusting  inspiration   windowsill collection
graffitied DNA   Physical sins
a wrist left heart broken
I lost
my eden somewhere
in the night counting
the flakes of
my dreams for tomorrow
that gather on the floor
alongside my memory foam coffin
in a clump of
yesterday’s skin.  


Yeti Youngblood
Day 4h
he came like my
s e a s o n a l - d e p r e s s i o n

way too early

leaving hurricanes in my path
and floods at my feet

****
i wasn't ready
where has all my motivation gone **** it
Her fingertips became a rope around the neck,
A lustful image of an able-bodied african,
Conceiving a brand new life from the teardrop that played into his eyes,
She said, he wasn't black
But the deep voiced cries said otherwise
I don't belong here,
Not in this time...
Will we ever have peace
                     We Do NOT Want to Wait,
Until the afterlife.

©MH
Can you? Comment please.

Like this poem? Check out my book on amazon kindle! Thank you.
.
We all live in a yellow submarine?
******!
Not only is that a bad metaphor,
it is blatantly wrong.
Everyone knows we all live
in a purple tomato on a custard moon.
But who would believe that?

The whole thing is ******* up
and do you know why?
Because Newton is tearing his hair out,
he cannot get his cradle
to rock from side to side.
Everyone is so ******* busy
turning potential into kinetic,
they have forgotten about the baby.

And so now we are all
threatened by the rotting aubergine,
replacing the falling apple,
and slapping Newton in the face.
And Hoffman the reluctant hero
is peddling his bike down the lane,
escaping the reality of responsibility,
but at least he was having a laugh,
at least he had a ******* great time.

And the yellow submarine changed,
into a pink inflatable banana,
ridden by the children of fools.
The fools that should have known better,
and followed the white rabbit down the hole,
they might have avoided becoming fools.

The white knight may have talked backwards,
but the walrus understood him,
with his tusks of sweetened marshmallow,
and he does translate in quantum notes,
relaying in geodesic Morse to the carpenter,
how to build a ******* yellow submarine.



© Pagan Paul (26/10/17)
.
One of my old chaotic psychedelic writes,
drawing on psychedelic cultural references.
PPx
.
Omnya0 5h
Beat me in the head with a hammer
Throw me down some stairs
I want to tear my brain and shatter my wares

I am trapped in a glass jar with no air
There are no achievements I can maintain
And I. Am. Suffocating.

I can't breathe without feeling acid dripping down my throat
Every breath I try to gulp, my chest tightens
My anxiety is a titan
My sanity is slipping

My mind works at a million miles an hour and my soul pays for it

I just want a good night's sleep
I just want to be not constantly pacing
I just want the headaches to stop
I just want a warm hug

All I think I need right now is a warm hug
And a good cry
And I'll figure out the rest later
as i bleed my heart out on this keyboard
you instantly flashed in my mind
my face in between your large hands
as you started to lean forward
making our forheads touch

i do not write for you,
i write about you
more importantly,
the little things you do
like how you rests your hand,
particularly your right hand on my thigh
or how you'd take mine
and press my palms against your chest
while whispering to me
how much they made your heart race

2:12 pm
imagine us
passing a crumpled note
back and forth
exchanging i love you's
i watch how a slow smile stretches across your lips

we're tangled in the sheets
strong arms wrapped around me
it certainly felt like home
your scent sinks deeper into my skin
i hope you don't see my hands
reaching out just to touch yours

i'm running out of words
i think you have given me enough to write about
that even flowers grew on paper
— bmva
Hi, just trying to get my poetry book noticed on amazon kindle. This isn't a poem.
It is actually an very interesting read, please check it out!
Thanks and have a good day everyone.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07JDDHWYM
people have written about everything,
nothing has been left to be found.
I've tried to find what wasn't left over,
but it's gone.

there's been poet's and scribes,
prophets and writs;
but they're gone,
for now.
until another one reincarnates.
again.

love is nothing new to us.
and war never changes to.
but what we write is just rhetoric,
maybe that is too.

what's written makes no sense.
but there's no more writing to found.
weird how i'm writing
what already seems so profound.
we've reached everything, but haven't found the end.
is writing just a super-task of infinitesimally unfinished words. or do you have to furnish all the poems with fancy oak and gold
A poet is a poet is a poet.

Philip is the name I use
Oliver is my family name
Especially on my passport
True my passport should say Poet

I like to think I am one.
So I write a poem every day

A poet is a poet is a poet

Poetic license I like to take
Occasionally when I need to
Especially when I talk in metaphors
Twitter -pated . Tongue -twisted metaphors

Introducing the art of the Acrostic Poem
Simply using the phrase vertically to trigger

A poet is a poet is a poet

Poets need to die to become well read.
Only the lucky ones ever get published
Even John Keats wasn’t recognised in life
Trick is to keep on writing for all your worth.
An example of a 15 minute exercise
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