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Quoc Nguyen Nov 2021
Poetry is love

Its words carry my feelings

Across time

Across minds

Shared with others

Interpreted by the heart

In any way it wants

Poetry is my love to you

To take how you will

To give however you want

So take me across time

across minds

across hearts

and I will love you

Till the end of time
ForeverAndAlways Jul 2021
It's funny how desires work. A thought pops up in our mind, and it snowballs to the point that if we don't do it, we fear we may explode in that very moment.
The lustful heart. How dangerous it is for both parties. Secret touches, forbidden words whispered in passing breaths. We all want love. Even for just one second. We crave the sweetness of being adored, even if the aftertaste burns our lips... and hearts. We fall for the wrong people, for the right reasons; most of the time. We fall in love with how a person laughs, or talks, or the way their eyes crinkle ever so slightly when they smile. We notice the tiniest things about them and grow fascinated by them. Curiosity about the scar on their hand or why they don't know how to react when you say sweet words to them. You watch everything they do and store it in your mind. A memory to re-watch on the days you miss them. But we can also get addicted to the way they make us feel. How the world doesn't seem so vast anymore or how your heart slows as they hold you. You memorise how their hands feel in yours and you make blueprints of their lips in your mind. You get addicted to the electric shock down your body as their undivided attention is on you. Do you really love them or do you just love not being alone? Both, perhaps.
Oh, how curious the human heart is. Capable of feeling so profoundly and deeply but capable of killing it the very next second. How quickly our feelings change. They cannot be trusted. Promise me you won't fall for the trap of love again. I ask you, no, I beg you, please don't do it. I am only nineteen years old, but I have felt the greatest of heartbreaks. Love, in this world, will destroy you. Maybe, I have only ever known the wrong types of love. The love of an abusive dad, of cheating and abusive boyfriends, the love of someone who is truly not meant for me. I have been heart broken and I have broken hearts; I wish for neither any more.
Being heart broken makes you feel like you will surely die the very next moment. No air enters your lungs, lips and mind frozen in time as you feel every piece of your shattered heart fall. Every moment death does not take you, you taunt the devil so that he may come quicker.
However, in some ways, being the heart breaker can feel even darker. You meet the side of yourself you thought would remain in hell. So cruel and inhuman. To see someone crawling on their knees begging for the scrapes of your love, but the best that you can afford to give them is time, and when you get bored, you cannot even afford that anymore. You turn and laugh as they scramble to pick up the pieces of their heart before the wind blows them away.
No, I do not wish for either. But if I were forced to choose one, I'd choose to have my heart broken. A painful reminder that life is real. How dull our lives would be with no heart break.
the wind was a ruffle in the curtains
and the day went by, unseized

the world was a ricochet in a chamber
and the gunshot bedroom leapt out, inept

the women weep out neglected, knowing
*** is of no value in our promiscuous world

a cigarette is like a god in the skies
the expectation is lofty and leaves us sad

the earth turns me dizzy
my arches have fallen
and the trojan horses have all fled off, torn

each child is abandoned in time and they all
**** their parents with resent, cuckkoos are poets
when they push all the little birdies out the nest

each poet is a cuckoo liar, inflating any kind of truth they've found
in the dotting of their stinking socks.

               

                   a beard is a false billboard
   a wife is a lie that germinates s l o w  a dog is a god if you look with sad eyes

there’s shakespeare in everything
and its all undeserving

there’s drama behind every curtain
and all the best legs
creep around like common juniper
into the fiendish, lonely night


    people make soup
   and they shoot themselves                                                                with shotguns


                      it doesn’t all make sense.

                               don't make sense.

                                           make oatmeal
Natalia Oct 2020
You tread a fine line
Afraid to look down.
Instead, pretend to be fine.

Avoid the doubts and fears.
No matter the cost,
The floods of tears.

They come biting back.
The insecurity,
A welcoming snack.

Latched on for dear life.
You find solace
At the edge of a knife.

Comforted and bewildered.
Malignant, yet benign.
You are bruised and blistered.

Here is where growth lies.
Shruti Atri Aug 2020
Blank pages,
Doubtful thoughts,
Lonely nights,
Painful sighs...

Bound in my silence,
Starved for touch,
Gasping for warmth,
Trapped behind a screen.

The walls
Will soon
Claim
My soul.
Stay safe.
Ellie Sutton Jul 2020
This is a nice walk.
Good job I've gone
Out and about
I ate way too much today
I need to burn that off
Christ, my belly looks huge!
OK, breathe in, breathe in
I wonder what I'll have
For tea tonight
It'd better be something light
I had a bar of chocolate last night
I wonder how many calories
I've left for the day
What do My Fitness Pal say?
600. That's okay
BUT
It would be better
To have less
I'm at a party this weekend
So I'll probably eat and drink
More than I should
I could just skip tea altogether?
Wow, my thighs really rub together
That's disgusting
Yeah, I probably should
(I definitely shouldn't wear shorts)
I wonder what I'll do tonight
Maybe go for a run?
I'm tired from last night's, but
I'll be happier once it's done
I look disgusting
In everything right now
Maybe it'll help me be
A little trimmer for that party?
Oh God, that person's looking at me
I bet they're judging
My double chin
OH MY GOD I FORGOT TO BREATHE IN.
For God's sake
Why can't I just be thin?
There are too many people about
I should have waited
'til it was dark
My flab is less stark
Less to remark on
If people can't see properly
It's OK, nearly home now

...That was a nice walk.
Undead Nomad Jul 2020
something isn't nothing

I don't like it when people consider the minute nothing
I don't like it at all
something is wrong with that belief
to consider the small unimportant
the microscopic non-existent
meaningless
purposeless...
a figment of pure imagination
a non sequitur of time
as if size itself is the only factor of what is...
dismissing reality is a fatal flaw
for when that insignificant nothing
infects you
replaces your meaningless parts with rot
turns your own body against you
discards the fabric of your meaningless existence thread by thread into the null--
when your state triggers the process of decay
slowly killing you--
while the residual effects trigger the mechanisms of the minds of those around you to start discarding your future--
while every memory becomes thinner
when you start fading
walking your own path to becoming emptiness
to become the thing you dismiss
to become dismissed
from reality
from life
but slowly enough
to realize you want to live
to have that thing you didn't believe...
existed--

you will beg for something
and receive true nothing
Mmm... My mind teeters between the meaning of life at the micro level and its effect on the macro.
Zhavaed Haemaed Jun 2020
Oh, how forgiven are we in death,
A price to pay, in the loss of life.
Oh, how unloved when we reside
Yet remembered so little, as we die
Living on in memories, of a few
That had, in life.. subtly touched us
And then cease to be, immaterial
Like many a soul has, before us.
Tragedy is when.. misunderstood,
And never were they, ever heard.
Tragic lives, and disavowed care,
And never was a beautiful word,
Catered to them, in their winter fair.
Do them a favour, and heed 'em well
As they .. in flesh, still breathe in air.
Do not,  please cry out in penitence,
And don their graves in flowers, rare.
Love them when they are still alive. For death will surely liberate each one of us.
-elixir- Jun 2020
My soul burns through these eyes
while I seek you out
through this blizzard
of life.
The rain of my soul,
wets my face,
as you dried it
with your winds of light.
I am oblivious
to your presence,
yet you're there.
Amongst the shadows
of my mind,
and blood in my veins.
Made to enliven me,
like an elixir.
Intuitions are the whispers from our soul
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