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Dez Apr 2020
I can keep up
So shut up
I may seem weak
But that’s just me bein meek
Quit with the talk
Don’t be so shocked
The truth is you don’t know
What’s buried down low
So back down
Because you don’t know what you unbound
You’re tuff stuff
But I’ll tear you apart, I don’t bluff
Tony Tweedy Apr 2020
I will choose what it is I want to hear,
I will see only what I want to see.
Thus by doing so I can avoid facing up,
To what is now everyone's new reality.

I will believe what I have always done,
I will ignore all the hints of bad news.
Thus it is by doing so I can avoid having,
Unwelcome things I'd have to choose.

I will shut out all outside voice,
That threatens my imagined safe world.
Thus it is by doing so the glue will hold,
My version of reality wont then become unfurled.

Yes I will select all I want to hear,
and all it is that I may want to see.
By some fake  logic and false illusion,
The outside will have no reach on me.
Burying your head makes nothing go away. Sometimes fear needs to be faced head on. I don't like it either but sometimes it just is the only course.
Amanda Kay Burke Mar 2020
Trees turning late September
Leaves nosediving the ground
I know I should be changing too
Think as evening comes around

Fighting my shifting demons
Dropped to shaking knees
Autumn's knife struck my heart
Chill spreading like disease

With eyes shut in cold apprehension
Underneath a waning moon
Dreams
Sunshine
Disappear and are replaced
By fear of Winter coming soon

Wrapped tight in blanket of desperation
Colors switch to dull from bright
The nights steadily grow longer
See less and less clinging daylight

Making pathetic attempts
Lift myself off the floor
To transform like the weather
Wishing to not be the same anymore

But heart remains frozen solid
The months continue on
Seek a metamorphosis
Still meet resistance each dawn

Temperatures decrease little by little
Doubts and insecurity rise
Avoid facing the bitter wind
Everything in nature dies

Animals go into complete hiding
Have to admit I relate
Sleeping in to escape the world
A way I also hibernate

I try climbing towards my goals
Instead like seasons dizzily Fall down
Stripped barer than naked jagged branches
Forced beneath icy feelings to drown

Frost covers each surface
Departs as morning wakes
Dew remains as evidence
Like shavings after erased mistakes

Not long until snow layers earth
Buries all white touches
I couldn't bury flaws as well
Bad habits caught in my clutches

I stand rigid as an anchor
Though it might sound strange
Time ages all surroundings
Somehow I don't change
A poem using fall changing to winter to compare ways my life should (and could) change if I tried but am too incapable
Zack Ripley Apr 2019
I take a look around this store
and can't help thinking...there's got to be something more.
Something better just waiting on the other side of the door.
I've made lots of memories through the years.
I even made some friends who taught me how to face my fears.
I may not know what lies ahead
but I'm leaving here with nothing left unsaid.
Now it's time to grow up. Time to move on.
Time to learn about the world and see a new dawn.
I feel so alive now that I'm finally free.
The only one who's going to stop me is me.
One thing I learned I want you to understand,
don't be afraid to fall. Someone will help you stand.
This is about me leaving my first job at a convenience store.
Jay M Mar 2020
A pale face in the moonlight
Eyes filled with dull starlight
A dreary trance in the moon's beam
Or so it would seem

Her long, silky brown hair
Flowing in the night breeze without a care
Bringing about scents of lavender fields
This yields
Memories of wonderful things
Which once gave her wings
Of which are now broken
Words unspoken

Still as a statue
Colors faded of their hue
Her eyes occasionally blink
Those soft cheeks no longer rosy and pink
The slow blink of those earthy eyes
Internalizing the agonizing cries

Said eyes are clouded
Poor mind crowded
Holding a burden only she could bear
How could this be fair?
Withholding her memories
Internal; singing broken melodies

Soft pale skin
Arms rather thin
Glowing softly with the moon's kiss
Things are amiss
Making her figure wraithlike
Some things look alike
If she were such, a beauty she'd be;

Not a blemish on her face
Some hairs out of place
But perfectly so
A simple flow
Skin as soft as silk
Her dress white as milk
Soft, elegant, flowing white
Almost bright
In the crisp nights breeze

Simple, is the dress,
Going to her ankles, not to stress
Over tripping on the smooth fabric
But still there's something wrong - almost sick
The sleeves just past her forearm
There is no cause for alarm

Then, a single tear begins to form
Against her cold cheeks it's almost warm
It rolls down her cheek
She did not once speak
It stopped at her chin
Before leaving her skin
Gently dropping to the ground
Making hardly a sound
As it crashed, splashing tiny beads
At her feet, which then leads
To a great deal more
Down they pour
Her face breaks emotion
As she crumbles to the ground
Not to be found

Seated, legs to the side
No longer can she hide
What she feels inside
Just going for the ride
With the rivers of tears
Letting go of her fears
From all those years
As it all appears
Finally coming forth after all this time
After such a long climb
This isn't a crime
Enough with the rhyme
It's a battle-cry
Showing how much she did try
How much she had to lie
How much she wanted to curl up and die
But not then, not now
She'll make it through somehow
She swore a vow
To be herself
Not to let that sit on a shelf
Sick and tired of being a delp
She will stand up for herself

Just as she always should
When she thought she never could
It's time to shine
That light of thine
That broadcasts your signal
Fire your words like bullets in a pistol.

- Jay M
March 5th, 2020
I wrote this based on a bit of prose writing I did. It's based on a dream I had one night. The girl in my dream looked almost familiar...but I can't say I've seen anyone like her. Just...ghostly.
Poetic T Feb 2020
I thought you were my
                       lemonade stand.

But with every sip,
   I knew that you were

bitter upon my every taste..

And I asked for my dollar back.

You told me,
  

that with every lemon there
                is always pips.

but that every taste is different.
Amanda Kay Burke Feb 2020
Had a real bad day

That is okay

Stand up

Walk away
Steve Page Jan 2020
"Once you have found it
keep your Voice on you at all times,"
my Uncle told me,
"you never know when you might need it.
Do not entrust it to anyone else -
they won't value it the way that you do.

"And do not leave your Voice
where they can steal it,
but slip it in your inside breast pocket,
close to your quiet heart -
where you can reach for it
at a moment's notice,
and when the moment comes,
you take it out with a steady hand
and you let them see
that your Voice is not lost,
it is not tired,
that it lies ready
that it is willing
to speak truth to power,
to voice comfort to the powerless
and sing in chorus with quieter voices."
And he patted my hand,
"You'll know. You'll know."

Years later,
when I found my Voice
far from where my Uncle had sat,
I knew it was mine
from its familiar shape and weight in my throat,
from the way it resonated
with the call I had suppressed
and the way it chimed
with the voices of those
who chose to stand with me.

And now that I've found it,
I exercise my Voice in song,
I practice it in comfort
and I school it in truth
and I always keep it close
to our quiet hearts
where they cannot steal it from us.
'Finding my voice' takes time.  I recommend 'Search for My Voice' by Felicity Ann Alma and 'A Portable Paradise' by Roger Robinson.
Bonnie Hunter Jan 2020
Tell me something interesting.
Make me notice you, and only you.
Make me marvel at how your eyes light up when you laugh.
Glance at me then look away.

Look at me like nothing matters.
Caress my face as if you love me.
Kiss me as if with your last breath.
And dance with me as if with your first.

Tease me with the smell of you.
With implied promises in shadowy corners
Teach me to believe in the magic
Of feeling invulnerable, desirable, and alive.

Light me up with your hands, your tongue, your nervousness
Your awkward confessions and bashful goodbyes.
Your compliments and shared hopes which seem, and are, too good to be true.
Then walk away, and take the sunshine with you.

Not all love stories are long stories.
Even my inner romantic knows that.
But... thank you for making me believe, albeit briefly
That the world remained full of possibilities.
Somewhatdamaged Dec 2019
Living on the edge of the knife
Standing still
With nothing to call mine
Where right is wrong
And wrong is right

Hope ends here
Just tremble in fear
Bled dry
With my last breathe
Still standing tall
Cause being myself is all that I can do
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