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And Jul 2020
Turquoise?
No
For there is little colour left for our small snow globes of imagination
The society we have created has lead us too far down the rabbit hole
Twisted ranks in social media have doomed our children to a life of lust and disappointment
Maria Mitea Jun 2020
Headlines  
Everyday
Telling you what to do

...
~
The nature of the sense organs is such that they invariably tend to do what they are tolled not to do. This quality of the senses it is well exploited today in advertisements, on the internet and media. Any headline that starts with “ Don’t ...”
Has the scope of intriguing your senses. After reading the title you ‘ll become very attentive at the content, and you’ll start worrying aimlessly ... This is the most harsh and cruel form of exploitation that is used today to induce mental manipulation and sickness.
Savio Fonseca Jun 2020
I read all your Poems,
U wrote to Me years Ago.
Reading them......My Tears,
began to Show.
My running Tears,
now have no place to Go.
So I'm holding them as Souvenirs,
for U......each time they Flow.
Zeena Miedema Jun 2020
The differences only hurt when you can’t read me.
So you keep asking me to read you pages...
It takes forever this way.
But it’s all we’ve got.
And it feels like I did read your book somewhere...
But not completely.
I think I missed a lot of details.
Maybe I shall go back and read some more.
Although it gets so hard to focus.
I’m so extremely tired.
I think I see those lines in your eyes and I hear them in your voice.
Hopefully your eyes won’t turn into mine.
18-06-20
Luna Maria Jun 2020
at least you gave me lots of poetry to write.
if only you would read it
Raven Woodfort Jun 2020
When I close my book,
do the characters get trapped
in time or pages?
Perhaps they're trapped inside our heads...

A haiku written during Inktober 2019.
Nat Lipstadt May 2020
she don’t read my poetry no more


not that I blame her, she’s in the majority,
moreover, she’s got ESP womanly seniority,
sensing what I ain’t saying, before I’ve even
had a chance to think it through ain’t it clear

these double negations,
for the rest of you,
reflecting my slip slidin' away,
a slowing indirection of virulent
side effects spiraling sideways, ain’t it clear

everyone’s shouting
the end is yay! nearing,
but the  endings risk is trebling,
meaning meanings be altering,
all the same, ain’t exactly unclear

she asks me where I’m going,
to the pharmacy replied, perversely,
feeling unlucky, a sure sign it’s high time
to buy a lottery ticket, given my inversity,
gods of fortuna singing ain’t it clear

****, she says, you went to university,
you know the odds are just plain stupidity,
not in my favor, my reply, meaning exactly,
ain’t it clear, everything and so, nothing to fear

**ain’t it clear
Marya123 May 2020
I'm an unknown book on a shelf
That one forgets to treat with care
Passed around among many people,
Alas! I've aged with wear and tear.

I don't recall to whom I belonged
Who once penned my words in fading ink
I'm not as strong as I used to be
I'm only a novel- I can't think.

I'm looking for a gentle owner
Who enjoys reading without pretense,
Keeping me safe, worn pages intact,
The one who'll cherish my existence.
T Inkpoem May 2020
Are you a lockdown insider
A morning imbiber
A bra-less detainee
You don't have to be.
Dress your best
for an
Instagram fest
or
Populate your head
Through portals of greatness
Read a book instead
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