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The Ink Well Jun 2020
Im tired of feeling upset and uncomfortable when people for the first time ever experience that nauseating sensation of having to tip toe.

I’m irritated that political  correctness is even something to discuss.

I spend my life speaking kindly, minding what I say and sparing others. The fact that we live in a day in age where people say “Its just so strange for me to...” or “This is all so new for me...” as if it’s the first time in their life theyve ever worried about upsetting someone, like *******.

Why should I be upset that youre just now having to learn how to be considered? Why should your feelings matter?

You’re not the victims so please stop apologizing and acting like one.

If you never learned that maybe other people have feelings and can be hurt; hey you learned something new and that makes you a better person.

But get over it.


Its uncomfortable to speak about oppression or injustice? How would you feel if you were the one being spoken about? Grow a pair.
Mrs Timetable Jan 2020
She looks good without it too,
but she's like 25, so...

She doesn't work at Target anymore:
She goes thru jobs like hairdos.

Her kids are trying to find her a husband.
I caught myself making a 'why?' face
and I had to auto correct it
because I was actually talking to her.

She said the only men her age who want marriage
really only want a cook or caregiver.

Now we know why you're single.
Left Foot Poet Sep 2017
BG: On High, (He/She)  ranting about a new alphabet!

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2140791/a-poet-wondered/


YOU wrote, He/She read...

down looking to make some trouble,
what he likes to do on weekends,
heard about your poem,
trying to create a new alphabet,
and got mightily ******
(at you)

we have an open IM,
and live crosstown
from each other,
and he/she is kinda shy,
(from gender confusion,)
asked me to relay this to you,
Madame BG Star:

you, who writes a new poem
on the hour, got a *** of nerve,
dissatisfied with the limits
of your tools, should not overly complain!

you got gifted, and use up your allotment
of alpha rearrangements and never get billed,
should be more considerate,
and just
write more.

and then he said something else,
because he always gets the last
word...

you have an affinity for the letter L
it would appear, so here is your punishment,
for the rest of the week
write like a madwoman


but no words that employ this lala sound!

how do you like that my little lollipop ******?

having scored some five and dime bags,
(cannabis legal not, up above)
went home to run the world in his
usual state
of (dis)grace

don't b-ame the messenger,
cause he said over his shoulder as departing
on his fiery chariot,
that applies to you too
u troublemaking

_Eft Foot Poet
acacia Jul 2019
Postured up high
green vertical sign
vertical is blue
after green comes blue

He takes it in all night
sipping from a cursed chalice
pull down your armor
show the world your undergarments
take off your hidden charms

Drag a sword across the way
stab them in the chest
they pray to your name
they pray you find their way
Uncoil your serpent
let jets rush through your ears
feel your soul detach, feel your spirit detach,
let this hole detach, keep your spirit in tact

You'd look softer in moonlight
you, the God, calls upon Mount Lake --
you dip your mind into the "A-ness of A";
flail all of your belongings, they belong to the ground
everything is all natural, everything you do is a distraction

Contemplation -- is that what you want?
contemplation -- is that your goal?
Followers think you're their only true lover,
they lay down their kidneys for you --
pedestal, you lay on, above the matrix,
above the world, above (y)our citta, above the soul;

take back everything you say,
purge all of your thoughts: you never had to be this way,
your ghosts now lurk in your pocket, bees swarm your eyes,
they will never stop until -- don't ponder stupid questions like that,
don't assume I'm higher than you, don't you assume I grovel at you feet --

go to the planet of nothing, see what it all really looks like
grandiose can only get you so far
your arrogance stinks up your soul
this room wreaks with cynical fascism, the carpet molds
and your contagious bacteria grows

I will clean up your mess for you,
I'll bask in this narcissistic stench of yours
they take your pictures, they curse at your name,
they see you smile, they lick up your blame
I'd want to be your only true lover
I'm not a spatial thinker

You follow up the road to the stairs
to the highest door shrouded in white
Here,you sing in hymns and snowy tundras,
Here, you are clad in black
your skin is white as carbon
your heart is browner and darker and blacker than below

I burn down your trees
you burn down my city
they aid in your destruction
pseudo-knowledge is their best bet
you've tricked them all now

Get out of my castle
this could be Our castle
I'm ready for it right now
give me the Green light,
let me be the blue-black flame,
the flame to hold your white up high

O, my flame
I still hold your vision in my mind
the walks we will take
the grass verdant and the water trickling
down our steps
it's all there to remind ourselves
that we are interwoven with ourselves and
the birds and trees and bees
these bushes float above the grassy hills
Do you still love the fairies? The spirits
are nothing but our own mind, we are the spirits
in the garden, in our garden, in your garden

O, my flame,
some things will never change
some things have never changed at all
though it may seem that way
to our unseeing eyes
to our veiled eyes
we cannot see all colors, anyway,
so what makes you think that we
see it all? we cannot hear all sounds, anyway,
so what makes you think that we
can contemplate it all?

I will always be there for you, Ground,
to feed you and to water you
O, my flame,
the night-light breathes through
our trees, we walk the distance in the night
the rain won't touch us here
Do you want it to touch us there?

O, my flame,
swim towards me, swim through the fields,
swim through the meadows, swim through the air,
swim through the porous clouds, swim through the smoldering
smoke, swim through the smoke-soaked toads, swim in a knee-length
sea,
whatever it takes to get towards me, whatever it takes to get near me,
whatever it takes to fall in me,
say you are still kindled
Some things will never change
Aspen Trimble Nov 2018
How dare you
How dare you sit there cradling your head
Wishing you had never been born
When you have birthed someone yourself
How dare you consider leaving him
His father doesn’t know how to take care of a baby by himself
How dare you think of the check the military would give him if you were gone
How dare you think that that would be enough.
The tension in your shoulders increases the pressure in your head. You fix it. You did it.
Your hands are what’s causing so much pain
Your nails are in your legs
You’ve been doing everything on your own for so long.
Is that why now you need to be told your next step
You need to be told where to go to be better
You wish you were better
No you say, you want to be good at something not better just good at
Something
Anything
You’re sick of articles saying that everyone is good at something because you need to be worth something.
You need to make money
Help your family
Help yourself.
You want to be remembered as more than a mom
More than a wife
**** more than some girl who took her own life
So you want to be good at something
You want to be worth something
You want back the passion you had
You want to strive for talent and skills
Being kind isn’t enough because being kind doesn’t help replace the dryer.
Being someone to talk to doesn’t pay for a deposit on a house
Well then ******* try something new
You say you’re not good at anything new no ****
You have no talents because you don’t work for them
You have no passion because you give up on everything.
You gave up guitar viola art writing crochet knitting school working out everything. You gave up on yourself.
So how dare you
How dare you hold your head and pretend you’re not good enough
When you’ve never given yourself the chance to be great.
A form of therapy I guess. I just busted it out and I’m posting it. If it’s not good or there’s grammar issues that’s why but I’m not fixing them.
Ken Pepiton Nov 2018
https://anchor.fm/ken-pepiton/episodes/Quest-ionic--a-reading-aloud-e2hncq

that links begins at the oldest of my poems here, which are nearing
the point of no return, maybe only because people cant tell me that hate them here, but more likely,
because some of of ya'll liked 'em writ, ye might like 'em said.
A link Please share
mythie Feb 2018
Crying softly, I rest a hand on your cheek.
"Everything's going to be okay."
"You didn't need them anyway!"
Until your face turns into ashes.

An unrecognisable mass that once was you.
What happened to the you I knew?
I hear glass shatter.
As your silhouette gets further.

I don't understand why you always look so sad.
Life would be so much easier if you were glad.
But when I touch your pretty face.
Your porcelain skin starts to break.

I look through the glass.
"I'm doing okay.
I am okay.
Even though I needed them, anyway."
Then the glass breaks.

Words echoing through the cave that is my mind.
Trying to put all the pieces back together.
But they can never fit just quite right.
It's always you, but not the one that I knew.

"Today is a good day."
I lie.
"You can do it."
I lie.

"You're stable, happy with life.
One day, you'll make the perfect wife."
I look into the mirror.
Then my face turns to black.
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