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Emery Feine Oct 12
I looked at the "
                         E
                           L
                             I
                              T
                                E
                                  S
                                    "
                                     and then back at
                                                               us,
                                                                    but I could see
                                                                                           N
                                                                                             O
                                                                                                difference.
sola differentia erat acceptio personarum.
Emery Feine Oct 5
The Forgotten Child always tries
The Forgotten Child never cries
The Forgotten Child will never fly
The Forgotten Child will never know why

Their name, no one will remember
Their future, not even an ember
Their wealth, all will be sold in
Their popularity, all given to The Golden

The Golden Child never tries
But The Golden Child always cries
The Golden Child will always fly
But The Forgotten Child will never know why

Their love, everyone wants them
Their friends, everyone wants some
They keep, everything they've ever gotten
Their future, better than The Forgotten

The Forgotten Child will always do more
Yet they'll never be first
What are they even good for?
They'll always be the worst.
this is my 112th poem, written on 7/16/24
i don't even like you.
(i want to be just like you.)
i don't want to participate in your humiliation ritual
(i'm sick of being the sacrifice. spread someone else's ribs on the gym floor.)
**** conformity.
(i study every movement and take it for myself.)
**** conformity.
(i want to be just like you.)
**** conformity.
(can i wear your skin?)
don't come near me.
(i want proximity and brotherhood like a sick second hunger.)
please go away.
(please hit me without being afraid of hurting me. with all the tender force of brotherhood.)
i don't talk to him.
(look at me, look at me, look at me, please.)
i'm not good at sports.
(i work so hard and still come up short.)
don't hurt me.
(hurt me like a brother would. i am sick of you walking blood through the hall from the eggshells you walk on. i am not so fragile.)
i can smell the axe body spray.
(hit me like you know i can take it.)
please, no.
(i wish.)
sometimes i just wish i was cool
Smile, guarantee
No problem with serendipity...
A local house of music and dance, a sharing means
That has the time, to look and see you will be

A promise on top of a hill
Waiting on the first, to live better
Than causes question, the anger of misery still
But to know a faring friend, in scope and letter...

Sweet, goodness
The favors of proper sunshine
To tell a different story than mercy in legend, do attest
The coming hope we due, to liberty, has the voice of time

Picking the best, the wages of a windy day
To these, there is a lived few, fury in the known
Has begun here, to truthful many and their save
We are cares in the needs of more, than a virtue to lonely, come

Sameness, guidance
Welcome to the home of sense, a heed to collect ours
That has the silence for a moment's reward, to advance
We know you, the measure of simplicity to fend for ideal powers

So tender, so without pain
Of remembered gestures and vexes, that seem to be
The fate of anarchy said, the wishes we tell were all of same
All of shared names and the told season of fame, that is our such's lead
Benevolence, Ambivalence, Deliverance, and shadows of home with a unity of more than strangers to worry
Filomena May 2023
I've recently been told
That music's for the bold
And performance represents
A simple flow of confidence

While I think that's good to know
I think there's more to music's glow
Cause when I put my pen to paper
I want me to be the shaper

I aspire to hone my craft
And not come off as over-daft
But my music is my art
Communication from the heart

And that calls consideration
Of musicians' motivation
Cause when you stand up on the stage
It's true the listener's the gauge

Of if your music is worthwhile
Or should be thrown into the pile
So overall it's just a balance
Of one's skill, but also talent

So at the ending of the day,
The final thing I'd like to say
is...

A is for Adam
Atoms are for art
I'll write like a free radical
But on stage I'll play the part
Reuben F Apr 2021
Who's wearing sundays
Songs jejune peruses;
May her corsage roses
Dress the fine arrays!

And gathered 'round strays,
Each of them amuses
Their eyes with their noses
For depots off ways.

The fantastic plays
Out of them her bruises;
Songs fed by drunk proses
May enchant in rays!
Lee Carter Jan 2021
When one forces their imagined shape to fit in,

They discover- often too late,

That they may now be stuck.
alyssum withers Dec 2020
i want to float amongst the stars
and feel the ache of loneliness
that comes with beauty
Carina Apr 2020
dear society:
why do you proclaim
ignorance is an easy
passage to popularity
jealousy is how to earn respect
tearing eachother down is
how to succeed
and caring takes you
on a route to failure
how does this establish
humanity when it is almost
inhumane
Carlo C Gomez Aug 2020
Man-made phenomena
litters the sky,
these satellites orbit themselves
--celestial magnets
befriending the galaxy.

Eccentric hours of
the day and night
lend themselves to the after party,
where the girls run in spirals,
the boys just taper off,
it’s a strange side effect
to all the confection and confetti
--an interstellar jackpot
with all the quirks!

There’s no moon out of reach
to bury one’s flag in to
or hang a quote from,
no riddle wisenheimers can't
complacently decipher.

As missions go this is prime
and far too lucrative
when the star machine
starts throwing back from
the electronic heavens,
shooting them off
in such bizarre bans
of incensed fire,
a sure reflection of fireworks
against the artificial currents
of this drug.

There’s no catching
these shooting stars
lightyears from here,
but if you ask nice,
they just might send you a selfie
the next time
your trajectories coincide.
Inspired by the surreal art of Justin Peters.
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