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Jeremy Betts Mar 31
I'll be better here sometime right before never,
I swear
Not trying to be clever
I'm being sincere
Just can't assign a specific timeline to recover
I've tried it,
Found it only helped set up the next failure
The one that's already lurking around each and every corner
I stand defiant, against my own self preservation order,
Almost daring it to leap from the darkness a couple corners sooner
I'm not trying to be negative either
Life is an iffy endeavor
But I don't not get it,
I can see it from the view of the average observer
It's gotta look like a recipe for disaster
But it's better than what I see in the mirror
Something I won't need a memory to remember
Branding me with this, scared flesh on each wrist,
A gut wrenching reminder
The kind that can only linger forever
Stalking me from the edge of what I'll be able to remember
But it'll get better...
...they swear

Jeremy Betts Dec 2023
My rough past, a lonely gravel path that directed me here
One riddled with loathing and fear from myself and every peer
It all pales in comparison to each and every fallen tear
Added to the unforgiving shame of having tried to check out that one year
It's this reign of pain that stops me in my tracks like headlights freezing a deer
It's clear I don't know how to steer and can not get out of first gear
My entire windshield is a rearview mirror, the next tragedy always closer than they appear
My over corrections and over reactions are too severe, they're starting to break down the veneer
Put in place to simulate normalcy and hide the real me but I'm a horrible engineer
The intentions were sincere but this cavalier attitude never allowed the good in me to adhere
I've given in to my dark passenger allowing it to commandeer the space between each ear
At the time I thought it'd be far messier if I tried too interfere with the puppeteer
So I grabbed a few memories as a souvenir and tried to disappear

George Krokos Aug 2023
If we sing the Master’s praises
with a sincere and loving heart
the fire of love inside us blazes
and so then we don’t feel apart.
From 'The Quatrains' ongoing writings since the early '90's.
Rone Selim Aug 2021
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder..
That's only skin deep though,
what's a common rock to someone,
is another's treasure.

Beauty is the light that shines when you talk, when you walk,
when you do what you love.
Beauty is the way you express yourself,
beauty is loving and accepting yourself
for who you are
and making the best version out of yourself.

Beauty is self love,
self care,
self discipline,
beauty is self respect,
self worth,
self improvement,
beauty is good manners and behavior,
beauty is your hungry mind,
your loving energy,
beauty is the way you view the world,
beauty is knowing when you're wrong
and knowing when you're right,
beauty is honesty,
beauty is humbleness,
beauty is authenticity.

Beauty isn't just one certain type,
beauty is the diversity in mankind.
Beauty is so much more than
just a canvas to change colors and fabric on. Beauty is meaningless if it's just an empty shell. A shell found on the beach is beautiful;

because it holds something precious inside.
mothwasher Jul 2021
after an oil spill mowed the lawn
for eleven an hour,
tiny migrants crowded the greenhouse gate.
the bug ****** moonwater muddied
the steps of the tenderhearted
community (of seed undertakers),
and made its way by means of caked rubber
into the cytophotocycle,
where the moonwater volatilized.
liquid volery.
vivid luck.
awoken like post-dream nap perspirants -
oneiroceiving precipitate;
the greenhouse grew murals in condensation,
the accidents si quieros.
a misty opacity attrited
like deskinning a spider,
with a definitude of exo scaling tons;
memories shed,
shies misled.

        ⌂ the greenhouse stands where a glacier once
        slipped, clumsy as steadfast could be.
        foreign fruit fits inside it.
        it knows not what it grows.

        🌢 the moonwater was salt-lipped for a while.
        where it passed through, it was soiled.

you’d be surprised how many things hit glass.
the moonwater didn’t realize what volume
seizes space
until it heard its kind on the outside. from the inside.
Venus has a reassuring kiss when a drone is dampened.
there were three rows for puddling;
one for naps,
one for not naps,
and one for knotted gnats laying hot eggs
in lustrated bloom.
flume frustrated.
somewhere far up the chain, a worn-out manager
ordered inventory off-brand,
and enchanted a horticultural hobbyist.
the devil is ennui and god is curiosity.

        ⌂ there could be a greenhouse next door, but
        it would be an accident, a leaky shed
        with errant sprouts.
        as it would seem to my lustrous heart.
        lagging and callous.

       🌢 the moon was uninterrupted that night.
        mighty sky drifters never passed between them.
        like a parent with patience or a friend with faith.
        like a husk that stole your pose.

the maceration was mutual with leaky infusions
of purpose and imagination
materializing into groundskeepers
that tamed the pressure of an ever encroaching periphery.
one time the moonwater nearly fumed its way dry
after a political candidate entered the greenhouse
with scissors promising bonsai.
but pesticides pass by.
and pictures of fabric mean less than bird song
or beetle guides.
for the frame never mattered to the moonwater.
no more than a furnace in winter,
than a flower in summer.

        ⌂ when it comes time for the greenhouse to deracinate,
        to throw her vines like limbs over garden walls
        and access roads, eye to eye with cumulus
        monoliths; her moonwater sweat will slip
        through the glass glue and slide down to
        her fingers . . . to feel what she feels

        🌢 i love pooling here
        🌢 i love steaming and raining here
        🌢 i will love being the halo in your refraction
a love poem spawned from thoughts on meticulousness and maceration.
Raven Feels May 2021
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, sometimes strangers can become the holders of our deepest secrets:>

awaited so long so vast to confess a blurt out a must say

that my hopes came to the ultimate settle to the unspoken overwhelm of this May

hurdled in my lap like a shiny relief anticipation

hidden doors under that rag to a whole new brilliant creation

never have I ever came to express to redeem a share

in a chaotic crowd in a room for that daemon monster flare

bare me the tears

been shed been dear on the angel

on that blanket that saint of the painful

don't get this wrong it was a cry of surreal

of a friendship that I dreamt of a cherish

for those pure souls to come to an emotional peel

Bobby Dodds Apr 2021
In the bar where sad things grow,
           Where(s) Happiness(?),
is pumped in Like champagne through IV.
          “ Now
I’m the type of person
**** near in love with gratitude. ”
“ Like that glancing smile,
Hidden behind a mask of bourbon and-
all ten hail marys you replaced
                 with ****** ones. ”
“ And if gratitude gets you this far?
Just imagine what the *** is like.
a short little diddy recollecting some conversations I had with the miscellaneous crowds and comforters at choir concerts and orchestras    .
belbere Apr 2021
somehow your words
sound more sincere
when someone else
is saying them.
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