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Liz Jun 2020
us
Sometimes
You forget
that I'm a real person

We talk love
We talk future
We talk us

We say
We want the same
We will take care of
       eachother

Still

I'm alone
on making us

                                                             ­  Us
I love like a fool
#us
TOD HOWARD HAWKS Jun 2020
Do you want to be happy? Lead us to love.
Do you want to be rich in spirit? Lead us to love.
Would you rather have harmony than harm?
Lead us to love. Do you wish to banish the bad
and replace it with good? Lead us to love. Would
you wish to cleanse your heart of hatred? Lead
us to love. Do you hunger to hold others whose
skin is a different shade? Lead us to love. Do
sometimes you feel the tinge of empathy, but
never quite enough? Lead us to love. Would
you rather have around your sons and daughters
than send them off to war? Lead us to love.
Do you yearn to forgive others who have done
you wrong? Lead us to love. Would you like to
fall asleep and awaken to a world of peace?
Lead us to love. Lead us to love. Lead us to love.

Copyright 2020 Tod Howard Hawks
A graduate of Andover and Columbia College, Columbia Univrsity, Tod Howard Hawks has been a poet, a novelist, and a human-rights advocate his entire adult life.
Milan Thomas Jun 2020
You
I’ve always felt like I was looking for something impossible to find.
Searching for something or someone to fill this imaginary void, this emptiness left behind by fleeting lovers in the night.

So many times I’d thought I’d found it;
In a strangers touch , or a temporary moment of passion between bedsheets, naked bodies intertwined warm and present.
But that was never it, it could never be that simple.

It wasn’t a void that could just be filled by a attractive stranger
No matter how sweet his words or gentle his touch.
All that meant nothing.
I know that now.

I know that because I know that it’s you.
It’s always been you, of course it has.
Everyone else was just...just a pause button on us, a momentary plot twist, a what if moment.

Like one of those beautiful picture pages in a storybook,
Pleasing to the eye but all I wanted was to get to the next chapter, the next part of our story.

It was right there in front of me ,
black and white on the page but still I couldn’t see it.
But as I lay here listening to the whispers of the stars in the darkness, nothing could be more clear.

Every path I took, every turn in every road
Every current in the ocean lead me back to you.
Amanda Sant'Anna Jun 2020
I want to swim
In a ocean
That tastes
Like him.
Today, we fight many battles.
How has it gone so far?
Injustices rule;
Stand up for yourself, risk death.

We gain nothing through violence.
Our dignity is tainted.
Random acts of goodness overshadowed.
Living becomes indefinable.
Death is felt with the warmth of blood.

“I was attacked.”
Suffering being witnessed and felt.

“I barely survived.”
Now people need to watch their backs.
Fury prowls the streets,
Until justice is served.
Remember when we used to be free.
“I arrived home safely.”
A "Good Morning" text is now feared.
Today it can be exactly what it is.
In a few days, it's a death notification.
Now we need to fight together;
Great powers require big forces.

Many will fall. And
Eventually we will all rise.

(Take the first letter of each line and make a sentence.)
THIS WORLD IS INFURIATING ME

- The Sentence
Ileana Amara May 2020
we hold our mind and heart
of such a time-made empirical value
we loved, and we lost, where do we restart?
sweet paradox, maybe it's a theoretical us down to "me & you"

IA
For BLT's Word of the Day Challenge: Empirical.
Oli Stansfield May 2020
Imagine there’s a painting
adorning the wall of some president’s master bedroom. It hangs
beneath a mirrored ceiling where his wife
(lucky her) gets to watch his pumping ****
wobble like a pale hairy jelly.

Let’s say it sits above a dozen nicotine silver wigs
on a perfect chesterfield dresser,
and maybe it gazes down, in lurid grey and gold:

a grinning Adolf ******
riding a merry go round of charging marble stallions,
one leather glove tightly gripping the reigns
the other waving at scores
of muscular blonde women
and heroic dead eyed men
with lantern jaws.

Let’s just say this now and get it out in the open
before it’s too late.
Ileana Amara May 2020
you write about the way it feels at the beginning,
like someone's airing up a balloon
inside your stomach
you write about urgency, that call across the wind
when you say his name
you become a scientist, a philosopher, an evangelist,
you theorize, you believe, you write:
"the universe recycles atoms and maybe yours and mine
were next to each other at the beginning",
maybe your collision was the Big Bang,
that kick started the entire universe,
maybe the stories are true
you write about the music
of suites and symphonies and operas
the notes that save your life
you write about when he looks at you,
it's the plucked strings of a guitar
the beating, resonant ***** in your chest.
you write about how you didn't want to fall
you didn't need anyone and you had plans
you were solid and unyielding and stable--
but he crashed into you..
and the world shifted under your feet,
you were Pangaea,
he separated you into continents,
you write about fear, and the warning signs
you chalk up to anxiety,
that inner sound bite you can't delete,
you dare to shout over it:
"I am -- brave."
"I am -- heartbroken."
here comes the letdown, the free-fall
of a thousand-foot cliff
all the way down, you write, philosophize, rationalize:
"The universe is moving toward entropy
so maybe we are an inevitable disorder,
meant to dissipate into nothing
"I do not/
am not matter."

Bang.

you smash into the ground,
you are blood and broken bones
heart in shreds, nothing catches you
you write: "If none of it was real.."
that dizzying drop, one second to the next
all in your head, you don't understand
and you'll try to figure it out, try to define
but it's all fragmented memories and crossed out lines
still, your hands will continue to type,
and through blurred eyes, you'll write.

IA
I dug upon my poetry journals and stumbled upon this one I wrote when I was fourteen.
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