Emily K Fisk Jan 2

Read more.
Words are the map fragments of wisdom you need to navigate your way in a world constantly sending you searching for that which you don’t yet have a name.

Write more.
And don’t keep it to yourself.  Your voice deserves to be heard too so scream in cursive and whisper in all CAPS, bleed through paper and heal through the spines of notebooks
you’re spiraling onto something, breathe in commas and step over periods because you’re not over
you’re the most beautiful run-on sentence

paint more.
You’re an artist whose perspective warrants an audience,
so leave cerulean fingerprint traces in your titanium touches,
mix gesso with mars and be alizarin against charcoal

stand out. And stand up.

Find adventure in the every day.  Skydive through small talk, zip line through steps up stairs without an end,
life is the ellipses in silences your eyes seek to make stories,

explore.
This world. People. This city you’ve landed yourself and take calculated risks.

Tiptoe through moshpits and stomp through meadows.
Cartwheel into concrete conversations headfirst eyes wide open,

be vulnerable, to those who deserve to see the rawest parts of you.
And leave the ones who’d rather exploit them behind

leave others’ opinions behind.  Let them be the ones collecting dust.
You are stronger than you’ll ever know and ten-fold what they’d ever expect.

So let them guess.
Be the question mark in the corner they can’t place.

Your story is complicated.  But that makes you interesting.
What doesn’t challenge you doesn’t change you and you’ve been challenged each and every day

you get out of bed and speak when so easily you could’ve lost your voice the night you lost your body.
It took you some time and a few nameless faces to claim it again and you’re still working out what that means,
you’ve always had your own way
but all the sexual assault pamphlets name this normal.

[For once it’s a label you don’t detest.]

So this year be normal if you so choose, but also be weird.
Be loud, not small, be confident, and not sorry.
Take up space.
You deserve to.

You are Woman and you are Strong.

Push, but don’t ever shove.
Love unapologetically and fiercely.
But don’t force what a boy is not willing to give.

Find someone who will pay your heart the same attention he does your body.
Scratch that,
find yourself.

Read your body’s brail, your chapters of goosebumps, and play chess with checkers across your skin.
Unlearn and relearn and unlearn and learn to remember you are enough and it is your turn.

Look in the mirror and accept the pieces looking back are in progress.

Keep writing.

Watch the moon make way for the sun. Be brighter than both.
Let your irises draw constellations across galaxies unwritten.
Move so far forward, you stop having a reason to look back.

Forgive that which you cannot change.
You’ll make more mistakes, scrape more knees and trip on chainlink chokers, your jewelry limbs you haven’t yet untangled.
But forgive yourself.

Kiss the boy. Kiss the girl. Kiss no one.
Live in the present tense and with future declaratives.
Appreciate the thousands of little moments still looking to be made yours. Make them yours.

You are worth all the struggle.  Don’t forget.

Be kind but don’t rewind.  
Stay authentic even when you don’t make sense and your words aren’t oil enough to separate

paddle through the waves eyes closed if you have to,
the salt may burn your scars and you may lose your bearings, but keep going.
Maybe this is the year you’re going to learn to swim.

in progress because aren't we all unfinished
aery Jan 1

There's something about the first of January
That makes us all say
Here we go! A fresh start!
Time to make some big changes!
But I don't know
Why is that so?
When you find something good
Something motivational
No matter how small
Some way every day
You don't need excuses
To make a certain day count
Any more than all the others
And you realize
Every day
Every month
Every year
Has the potential to be
As important, beautiful, and meaningful
As you make it

Because the urge to make new year's resolutions has become too ingrained. Let's just enjoy today simply because it's the first day of a new year and not just a means to another self-serving end.
Happy New Year!
Lala Jan 1

New years eve.
Where everyone prepares for the new upcoming year.
New years eve, where people get out their finest champagne or heavy liquor. Close friends and family memebers are gathered together, counting time for the clock to hit the new year.
New years eve, where people talk about changing themselves to be better.
New year, new me; they say.
But in reality.
It's a new year, but same them.
No one really keeps their word, not only for themselves.
New year. Everyone is still the same.
This is the truth.

Not one change. Either we're lazy or forget to make a new change...
Elemenohp Jan 1

A new day, a new year.
Where we make it a point
to start anew, fresh, clear.

But tomorrow, is still tomorrow.
The day of the new year could have been any day.
It could have been, in any month.

Where is the worth, of January first.
Why is this day so special to be chosen,
Did the other 364 days at one point, become cursed?

Maybe it isn't that
We should live each day like it is our last,
But live each day as though
It is that of the new year.

For a day is still a day, no matter a name.
We can throw at them labels and meaning and worth;
but every day in a way, is a new birth.

Pondering the concept of the new year.

I'm waiting for the sun to rise;
going to cut these worldly ties.
Remembering summer reveries,
The autumn chill, the falling leaves.

Look at how we both have grown;
change for all the time we've blown.
Remembering the winters snow,
the stars above, the ground below.

Lets atone for throwing stones;
we can mend the broken bones.
Remembering that spring revives;
brings new light to cloudy skies.

I want to wish all my friends, followers and fellow poets a happy new years. May the light guide you on whatever path you choose this new year. Thank you so much for all the love and support! Be safe, and awake to a beautiful tomorrow. :)

The Mysidian Bard
Ramona Dec 2016

Stop wearing blue.
It's not your job to make his eyes light up,
It's not your job to let him know you're thinking of him.

Stop drinking english breakfast tea.
You only loved it because he did.
You only loved it because you loved him.
Because you love him.

Try not to break when you see him.
He is a hurricane,
He'll only leave your houses pillaged and your power lines down.
You'll be left to clean up the mess.

You don't love him.
You DON'T love him.
YOU DON'T LOVE HIM.
tell yourself this everyday.
In the shower, at the bus stop, when you're cooking, eating, sleeping...
Maybe if you say it enough it'll be true.

Drink.
Drink everything and anything just to forget the way his hands felt like God on your skin.
Drink until your fingers are numb and you can't feel your heart.

Kiss a stranger.
Kiss as many fucking strangers as you need
to erase the stamp of his lips from yours

Ignore the pain in your chest
and the feeling that your lungs might burst.
Ignore the shoe box of photographs under your bed,
and the saved messages on your phone.

Forget.
Forget his laugh...
The phantom fingertips that draw shapes on your skin.
The warmth of his chest under your head.
Forget his heart beat.
Forget his words,
how he was always five steps ahead
and always knew what to say.

Realize that things didn't work out for a reason...
And that Romeo and Juliette both died, so maybe it's better that you're his Rosaline.

Forgive her for being what he needs.
You are not enough.
You never were.
You were only hist stepping stone to her.
To happiness.
Let her complete him in ways you never could.

Let him be happy

This is something I wrote last year and it now means something completely different from when I wrote it, which is interesting.

✨ it's time for renovation; it's time for us to make a change.

• friendships are work, honour the flowers that have decorated your path and don't be reclusive.
• however, being alone is simultaneously essential: carve out pockets of unabashed loneliness, yearning, and self-reflexive intimacy.
• write with less mythological standards. your favourite authors wrote drafts, pages and pages of nothing. no one emerges like a phoenix.
• persistence and self conviction are how revolutionary girls go public, spaces of uncertainty and lapses of effort are how revolutionary girls become real & effective. do both.
• use the good silver every day because every day is all there is.
• maintain your own standards of success and never trust rich people/the police/men in authority.
• do not imagine that revolutionary ideals make you above the hu$tle: money is dirty but imagining leftism will absolve you from labour is even dirtier.
• don't stay in your lane and play by the SJW's rules. it is better to actively engage in discourse and say the wrong thing than not say anything at all. the paranoid ego will destroy activism.
• live in the impure spaces, grip hold to contradiction, language is always performative and alienated, no one "means" what they "say".
• feel the fear and do it anyway; do it wrong; do it with rigor & recklessness.
• you will never be bored because you will always have books to read. • the past never leaves: there is no time in the unconscious: everything that has ever happened is always still happening, and so don't judge yourself for still being in pain about things that happened a long time ago: "a long time ago" doesn't really mean shit.
• never apologize for crying; never apologize for not wanting to have sex.
• remember girls own the impossible, the void, the image, and when this system falls apart, we rise. we rise anyway.

Sara Fielder Sep 2016

Clock fingers pluck the minutes off
a leftover ballad that sobs
yesterdays remembrances.
I leave it all behind~
erasing your memory
with fervent intensity,
changing the clockworks
to read a different frame of mind

Written by Sara Fielder © New Years Eve Jan 2012

Fuck.
I'm sorry.
Is that all?
Or is there something else that does attention call?
But I feel like you want something else too?
you know... I never knew,
Just what to do,
It seemed, however, I did with you,
And yet here we are, talking like this,
What oh What oh What did I miss?
We're on the same level but not the same page,
And all this shit is making me feel older than my age,

Goddamn it, I want you to understand
how much I care, but it can't be held in hand,
So fuck it, if you won't tell me ill never understand.

But whatever it is, I hope you know,
That I wanted to help, I don't know if that showed.

Corine Rose Jul 2016

You're young, you find that one passion.
For me, it was pressing that key that turned into a new land of emotion.
Imagination.
I knew I fell in love with you before,
Took a while, don't you think?

But then break.
I lost you, and fell somewhere.
It may be a hole that I may still be stuck in,
But I've managed to love you again while in it.
Again, took a while.

Summer days are almost over.
I may lose you while still stuck in the hole.
Please help me find love for you again.
Perhaps you'll help me find love and feel whole in this hole.

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