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Nathalie Apr 14
I could feel my eyes
float under pearly
raindrop shaped hearts

This feeling was real
and it was deep;
raw fragility

Disarming vulnerability
No place to dissapear
Only transform

~Nathalie
Ellen F D Mar 2
The mainstream is changing,
Do you hear it’s call?
Structures once accepted,
Now begin to fall.

The mainstream is changing,
Do you see it form?
Conversations never had before,
Now become the norm.

The mainstream is changing,
Do you feel the flow?
Look around and look within,
And learn to just let go.

Let go and float wherever it takes you,
Let go of the stories told to break you,
Let go and allow the rapids to wake you.

The mainstream is changing,
Do you sense it too?
All there is to do is let go,
And the journey will find you.
Randy Mcpeek Jan 12
Finding What Was Lost                          1/12/19

I’m searching for something I’ve lost. You can’t help me look for it.
I can’t quite remember what I did with it. This thing that seems to elude me.
How could I misplace something so important?

I became complacent, that’s what happened.
What was an intrinsic part of me, not nurtured, left me abandoned.
If I call to it, it does not come like a puppy who has escaped the yard with its tail tucked in between his legs.
I have to show what I’ve lost, that it is of value to me.

“Hello?” please come back. I swear I’ll do better, and work harder than I ever have.
I know now that my existence is meaningless without this part of me.

Realizing this, I reach into the dark places of my mind for the light switch to flip on.
Recalling every detail about what I love to do, nurturing what gives me purpose.

Because, in the end, only I can fulfill this need.  
Reinventing, transforming, and evolving. Finding myself along to way.
Becoming a better version of what I was and, in doing that, embrace me.
Hello soul.

By.
Randy McPeek
Lou Dec 2018
June 29th, 2017
It’s been 1 year, 4 months and 19 days.
For 1 year, 4 months and 19 days.
Count the acidic tree rings
Nearly 504;
Bright
A.m. eyes
On East Ferry,
in contrast of noir
I say, man;
June 29th, 2017.

It’s time to get a new calendar,
Cause I count 5,000 dollars later
and not a sense of a cent
was fined for my remorse.

I’ve been fine and fined.
Holes in my pockets
dropping seeds of change
planting fines

Into puddles
and potholes
showing deep interest
into the alignment of my car
stalling my engine with debts.

19,000 dollars and growing later;
I learned what trigger warnings cost
and ironically
I wrote a paper on it.

Don’t get me, wrong I am grateful
But, I had to rip holes
into all my jean pockets.
I mean, **** it,
I never had much going in
And I should quit smoking
My lighter is dead
Only blue and red
Sparks lived well in my mirrors
On, June 29th, 2017.


From the wall I was chained to,
I enrolled into college
My mom drove me home from my first class.
My lawyer wasn’t much of a lecturer,
He spoke math for 1,400 dollars

250 and 9 weeks.
106 a month for 52.

That’s enough math for this semester.

I drank with my night instructor on Mondays after 9,
He wanted to hear my music
We drank whiskey salted potholes on Allen
I counted his tree rings to 4/4 measure in regret;
20 years steady.

I graduated on a Tuesday morning,
I didn’t call him back to thank him for the irony.

I acknowledged our acidic rings
With glass cheered laughter
Swallowing thanks for each other’s company.
9 weeks and I don’t recall ever leaving the room.
43 went after,

And today life is that,
Paid for in lessons,
No need for pockets

I am those potholes
bumping coffee all over me
20 mins late to my first class.
I can repave them
but they won’t stay filled
It’s OK to want smoother roads to school.
I’m late but I’m here

I’m a mess.
******* would see art.
People have his eyes on me.
I want to be framed and splattered
on the walls of your home
A household mess .
It’s OK to have a passion.

Look into my tree rings
How old am I?
Its restorative to count
27 rings of rebirth
Look at me still growing
I believe I can grow in Paradise-lost fire
Or in Buffalo salt

I am my flaws
I counted them

My alcohol abuse,
One beat of 2,653 in 2017
I don’t know how to put an apology
On a music sheet.


The Jazz fills my potholes in the morning
before these hallways

My grey area is stained glass in Villas library,
Each step is eclectic
From shoe up and over is stand still art

Lighters flash cigarettes burning
But prints pictures of thankful new memories

With all of you in it.
Thank you for helping me with today’s date.
Its for a course I am taking in college. I hope this doesn't shade me as a fool. I'm kind of self-conscious of this one and hoping for feedback. Thanks.
Jey Blu Nov 2018
Amanda confidently made the first incision on the corpse, as she’d done many times before. Starting near the right shoulder, she pulled the scalpel through the layers of tissue down the middle of the abdomen. She bobbed her head as she worked, listening to Where Did the Party Go by Fall Out Boy. The pathologist turned away from the body and pushed her long black hair out of her hands with her wrist. Taking her gloves off, she turned the **** on her speaker. “My old aches become new again, my old friends become exes again…” She hummed the tune while securing her locks in a ponytail. Pausing, she picked up her phone and rewinded the music. She could have sworn she Patrick Stump sing the words, “Woah, where did the body go?” Listening closer this time, she started the song. “Woah, where did the party go?” played through the speaker. She shook her head and took another sip of her coffee.
She gazed at the ceiling, bright lights blinding her suddenly. “Jordan!” She waited for a reply. Nothing. She called again. Flustered, she sighed and looked over at the schedule pinned to the wall. Jordan wasn’t scheduled today, Amanda was the only one. “Then why did the lights- Never mind.” She was obviously just tired. Tugging on another pair of gloves, she picked up a pair of forceps and a scalpel and turned back towards the body. It was gone! She looked behind and underneath the table, thinking it had fallen. It wasn’t there. “****! How am I going to explain this to the family?”
“You can’t.” She jumped at the deep, gravelly voice. “Wh-who are you?” she asked with uncertainty. Amanda was too afraid to look him in the face yet. “That’s not important,” the voice replied. “We need you to come with us.”
“We?” She looked towards the direction of the voice. There were thirteen men in black suits with dark shades standing in formation at the door. “Why? Will you tell me where the body is?”
“Just follow us, ma’am. We’ll explain everything in the car.” She followed them out the door. The man who spoke led her to a black Range Rover with extremely tinted windows. Once they were in the car, the man introduced himself. “I’m Peter C. Schultz. I work with the MIB.”
“MIB? Like in that movie with Will Smith?” She sounded confused.
“Exactly. But we don’t get laser guns.” He smiled, hoping to earn her trust.
She laughed softly and looked out the window. “So was he an alien?”
“Possibly. The craft seems to have removed the body, sensing alien DNA in the area.” Peter looked over his shoulder, quickly pulled out of the parking spot and turned onto the highway. Amanda still wasn’t sure if she was awake. Aliens? MIB? A disappearing body? What if they had taken her instead? All types of thoughts swirled through her head.
They arrived at a large, nondescript building. She hopped out of the range rover and shut her door. The men lead her into the building and down the hall to an interrogation room.
“So, Ms. Browne, tell me. Did you notice any strange noises or lights at the time the body “Um. Yeah, yeah, uh, there was. I was listening to music and the lyrics sounded different. I replayed the track and it sounded normal. There was also a bright flash of light right before I noticed the body was gone. I thought it was my assistant, but they didn’t weren’t on the schedule.”
“We’ve heard of the lyrics changing before. The lights are different, they don’t usually come that close.” Peter sighed.
“Before? You mean to tell me people’s bodies have been stolen by aliens before? What the ****?!? Why doesn’t the government tell us these things?” She started to panic.
“Calm down, Ms. Browne. The MIB has it all under control. Amanda stared him in the eyes. “Really? Because there are BODIES missing! That doesn’t seem under control!” She was yelling at this point.
Peter took a step towards her. She continued to glare at him. All of a sudden, his eyes went black. Amanda was confused. This had to be a dream. A lizard like tongue flicked out of Peter’s mouth. Blood poured out of his mouth and dribbled down his chin. She screamed and tried to run. A hand with sharp long nails and slender blue fingers came up from behind her shoulder and covered her mouth. She was instantly silenced. Another hand pushed her back to her chair, the alien body pressing against her. She forcibly sat down. The hands let go of her. The terrified pathologist tried to scream but didn’t have the ability to even whisper. Peter’s form changed into a tall, blue, thin body with disproportionately long arms and neck. She shook from head to toe, when suddenly she heard a strange voice in her mind. It spoke in alien tongue but she could somehow understand it. It said, “Look into the mirror placed in front of you. Be terrified of what you see and know it is your truth.” With shaky hands, she picked up the piece of reflective glass lying in front of her. Bringing it to her face, she looked at the aliens and then herself. She stared back into cold black eyes. She opened her mouth and could see the lizard tongue curled up between her sharp, pointed teeth. She expected to be scared, but instead felt strangely content. She noticed a new hunger awakening from deep inside her. Amanda stood up and walked over to the aliens. Her own kind. She spoke in the native alien language she now had a name for, Kewalanaei. “Do you have anymore of the body left? I need flesh.” Peter grinned toothily and led her into a room where hundreds of bodies lay. They feasted.
I know this isn't a poem or perfectly edited but its just something I wrote for class and kinda liked. I might start doing more 45 minute writes. Hope you enjoy it :)
Sean Achilleos Oct 2018
Don't give up on Love
Just because a rogue crossed your life's path

Don't give up on Love
Because a snake came a sailing your way

Don't give up on Love
Just because you confused **** for Love

Don't give up on Love
Because you mistook thorny weeds for flowers

For there is a season for a tree to be pruned
As every boomerang cast at you
Has no other choice but to return to its sender

Don't give up on Love

Like shells
Beautiful to look at but hollow inside
To be crushed and transformed to sand
For you to walk on

Don't give up on Love
For your season to reap might be closer than you know

Never give up on Love
Written by Sean Achilleos 23 October 2018©
www.facebook.com/SeanAchilleosOfficial/
Sean Achilleos' Music is available on the following platforms:
Amazon, Apple Music, iTunes, Deezer, Google Play, Pandora, Saavn, SoundCloud, Spotify, Tidal, YouTube, Jango Radio, Nicovideo (Japan), IQIYI (China) and YOUKU (China)

Sean Achilleos' Book 'An Affair with Life' is obtainable from the following platforms:
Smashwords, Amazon, Wordery, Kobo, Exclusive Books, Takealot, HelloPoetry, Loot, Overdrive, Bokus, Barnes and Noble
Jayantee Khare Sep 2018
an untoward event
born a thought dominant
caused the feelings consequent
provoked the emotions remnant
unexpressed, set in a trench dormant
wrapped in the dark, was the content
drenched with the tears vehement
with passing time it got ferment
spread an unwanted scent
toxify the environment
an untoward event
An event may transform a person....
She Writes Aug 2018
I lost myself trying to become
Everything you wanted me to be
Now you are gone
and I am finally free

But who am I?
I don’t know
I’ve lost your directions
Unsure of where to go

The future is uncertain
I fear the unknown
How will I fare
In the world all alone?

I will slowly transform
Become the real me
The one that I
Was always meant to be
Pauper of Prose Aug 2018
As I scale the *****
I note the melody of the wind
With its sweeping symphonic shifts
My nails grind against granite
Before flaking and falling into the abyss
Yet I persist
Upward along the lone path
Where the air recedes like tides
And frost forms fellowship upon my eyes
Before seeking to turn my sore limbs, frigid
Icily assuring each ache is anchored in anxiety
Which stems from the worn clothes of society
Yet as I climb, the fabric is discarded
Like old styles of yesteryear
Now basking in all my naturalness
I finally summit, my thoughts thankfully descend
My heart lifts up its scepter and then my chin
Beating with Brilliance it grins
Furls up it sleeves and wordlessly begins
The work of healing from within
And aren't we awash in fear when we receive our climbing gear
Niveda Amber Jul 2018
As I listen to the beats of another wild song
My feet tapping on the cold hard ground
In the darkness I ascend the stairs
Sharp eyes and all spread out hairs
Under the moonlight I let my sorrows out
Drenched in loneliness
I roam around and round
I know my heart is in ruins
The ruin is fun
It gives me pleasure
To be fallen apart
I leave those pieces behind me
And dance on and on
Till those pieces cut me deep
And I frown and I laugh
I'm happy to know I've thrown away a part of me
that will never come back
Shards of memories in my vicinity
I smile I cry
Till I let it all out
And I'm all in ruins,
My body is one,
My mind's out of control
But I think I'm alright,
I'm beginning to blossom
in this silent night
I dance on and on
Till those pieces cut me deep
And I cry and I laugh
Till I transform into light
Something I've always wanted to be
I feel a void
But that's alright
Because I'm no longer in ruins
But I still remember those times...
Words help me feel things I've never felt before..
©NivedaAmber
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