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Shane Dec 2020
Here I am
A mere fragment
Of loss and desolation.
Isolated and existing
In emptiness.

Here I am
As certain as fall
Cold and rigid
As the old places
Where we made
Snow ball dreams
And sunset promises.

You are living these now
Without me,
And here I am
Fading without you.

Fall is when you left. And I have been falling since.
igc May 2015
I saw the best minds of my generation congested and
polluted overdosing on irrelevance

Abandoned abused replaced
Fed to the thought police
Corrected corrupted
Declining the potential to be heard in
exchange for the opportunity to be documented

Lives being lived according to unfeasible standards
You either make it or you don’t
there’s no in between
there’s no maybe
there’s no equal

Left to meander through the conceived thoughts of others
decisions being made
moves being made
eulogies being made

nothings real
nothing’s right
nothing’s honest
nothing thought up matters


Who in the safety of their homes were taught respect
are told to mask their emotions
Identities saved for the weak
Only to be showcased when conducive

Who pump iron into their veins
looking for an angry fix of acceptance
Sweat streams surge down their backs
Failure prominent in their thoughts
Motivation blessing their features
the Devil clever in disguise

Who see little white fields of fairy dust
a never ending landscape of courage
giving them superpowers beyond belief

Nothing beats the freedom of being told
You can fly

Who dream of equality behind closed eyes
But render to imposed birth rights when open
The upper hand implying more than height
and executing more force than necessary to move them

It’s all about the cause until you’re indubitably
the effect

Who tuck monsters into their beds
Forgetting to check closets for skeletons not quite left behind
in the path of carefully chaotic self destruction
Conveniently purging themselves of words whispered
in the throes of passion
Forced upon the ears of all naive enough to listen

Who carelessly expend countless hours playing with
condescending pawns disguised as adults
All grown up with no where to go
Replacing quality with quantity
Leaving long dull trails of breadcrumbs
leading to hearts long since lost
Never to be recovered again

Who follow sexuality by the book
doing this to get that for this him them who what when where
Why does the finish line have to be covered with brightly colored lace and muffled drunk cries chanting no

Who stare dead straight into the soul of love but never
Never into her eyes
Told she is not worthy of being addressed directly
Fingers itching to cop a feel
Only to discover the body is but a passage to her straight dead soul


Who trade in their voice mind and individuality
for half assed smiles and superficial men
As the face of a leviathan nicknamed acceptance
hands them a paycheck they’ve worked too
night day night night hard to refuse

Who idolize the feel of phantom limbs of lovers past
Twisted words convoluting their heads
Forcing on masks of pure heroine
at the sight of scars left on the soul
Scratching at the need to feel wanted
But cowering at the ability to truly be heard

Who have perfected the art of parallel painting
Elegant red streaks hidden beneath layers of
choppy dark colored hate covering pretty pale limbs
Seeming to fade as colorlessly caked on insecurities susurrate bitter-sweet nothings that curl themselves just inside her mutilated skin

Who scavenged their looks from the bottom of holes
they’re expected to clamber out of
Smiling pretty smiling
Being treated to complimentary meals
Only to be served plates full of disappointment.

Who crave companion’s flaws
in ruthless attempts to satisfy their hunger for compassion
Selfless beings dedicated to less than noble attempts at vanquish
The call for heat too satisfying to refuse the trade off forever uselessly launching themselves into razor sharp blades
aimed at ***** sleeves

Who see soft lips as cushion enough to fall from towers built of fear
Dragging moist palms across pavement thighs
Tearing at the seams holding their
hearts together

Who cower behind brick wall appearances
fruitlessly clutching on to ideas reserved for the most fortunate
Scaring away potential with claws that seemingly only come
out to play in the face of acceptance

Who’s sick stick thin limbs trail their worn down
fingernails in an effort mar skin no one can see
Streaks titillate their bright red scalps
A reflection of their underlying journey

Who disgorge yesterday's meal from stomachs long before empty
Blood spewing from the mouth an open wound
Continuously sewed up but never stitched tight correctly
Wiring shut opinions but never gorged enough to
muzzle their Howls



Ideas, calm and collected have long been hijacked and invaded by Hestia

Hestia! Consent! Content! Acceptance!
Long nights and roid rage men!
Two faces fighting a losing battle!
Girls playing mom! Boys playing war!
Ill ridden parents still pledging to the
United States of Controlling Media!

Hestia! Hestia!
Overall reign of Hestia!
Hestia the beautiful!
Incarcerated Hestia!
Hestia the ******!

Hestia twisted and shaped to form the voice of conformity
Hestia constantly watching over and monitoring
Hestia being told what to ******* think

Hestia seeping creeping sneaking into the
darkest crevices of our minds
Hestia when least expected coming out to say
Hello

Too late! Hestia’s already made herself at home
Wedged between the rooks of your biggest fear and
burrowed deep into the folds of
Your  Worst  Nightmare

Stuck in a constant battle between
rejecting Hestia,
and accepting her.
This was obviously inspired by Allen Ginsberg's "Howl."
Considering it was, at the time, the voice of that generation, Welcome to Generation Y.
This is a work in progress.
Abner Ros Nov 2020
The more I look into your eyes,
The more I see the one-way mirror,
     Yet I dare to look.
I see my silhouette,
Though I’m unsure if You do.
Abner Ros Dec 2020
The synapse in which both of You and I meet.
Though, no longer can I tell where I end and You begin.
An enduring connection of which escape is dubious.
Inevitability remains a common guest,
A parasitic fiend that clenches control
As You and I laze, nonchalant of the approaching villain
That of whom strides quicker, grows stronger, and wills to linger.
A darkened silhouette against our brush plain.  
Finally: It conquers us, You and I,
And as It reveals itself I see It's face - one of a cryptic familiarity.
The Unknown presents It's dominance with an otherworldly grin.
In that moment, I see what looms so maliciously.

I see that after all, It was truly You,
Rather than some unnameable Thing
Or a being higher than I,
My sunset plain was merely broken by You,
And You alone.
Påłpëbŕå Nov 2020
Us?
I created you with my art,

you immortalized me on your canvas,


channelising our broken hearts

to pour out the story of "us"


you dusted my shards

on the paintings you made;


I wrote you down on my cards

wording you in my shades,


we found each other

when we lost ourselves,


we are two books kept together

that belong to different shelves.
Mrs Anybody Nov 2020
i would give him
the moon and the stars,
even the sun too

i would move
the mountains away
and the sea closer

i would ****
the ones who hurt him
and revive
the ones he lost

i would change
the order of the alphabet
and color
my world black and white

i would give him
everything,
if he would just give
us a chance
a poem that means very much to me. also another poem that's originally part of my "a little bit confused" series but deserves to be named individually

also check out my other poems and my instagram page @_mrs.anybody_! :)
Grey Nov 2020
Without you, the world my not stop spinning
but my heart would cease to beat.
~♥~
10/?/2020
Joe Thompson Nov 2020
RIP: The greatest show on earth

The announcement came:
This was the last year for the circus–
The working man's circus,
The last ******* child of Ringling Brothers
And P.T. Barnum

Good, my wife said
Think about the animals.
I nod in absent agreement -

But I am at Coney Island as it might have been, once.
And watching amusement parks in Celeron, Bay Ridge, the Palisades and a hundred others places vanish -
One by one like altar candles extinguished before the recessional.

I am a young boy staying up late tearing through Ray Bradbury's "Something Wicked this Way Comes"
while everyone else in the house is sleeping.

I am at a City Lights book store in San Francisco
Where Lawrence Ferlinghetti is sharing his cotton candy with Diane Arbus and Allen Ginsburg

I am listening to "Take Five" in stereophonic sound.

I am behind the Big-Top
with Edgar Allan Poe and Charles Dickens
trying to catch a glimpse of the show through the shadows -
Then being told to get away by a large sweaty man who doesn't smile.

I am eating peanuts salted in the shell.

I am holding my daughters tiny hand
while my son hides behind me–
a clown is walking by.
I.

“Victor, would you like to meet at room zoom?
Emily called, she knew he wasn't keen to boom

A little bit to the blue pole, a little bit under the red flag; 

Everyone has ideas, who is ready to share?
Zoom in.  Zoom out.
How many truly care?

II.

Victor, once more we've entered the room zoom

A place we've been to before
the questions remain, simple and plain
Is that a dangling mate?
Is this the real victor?

A choice is a choice, one for everyone
Sum up the numbers, leaving us numb

Is the rhetoric speech, exhausted, at last?
Would the world -all people- wait for exciting news?

It’s all about the covid war, though not the flu
Zoom in. Zoom out. In the end,

III.

The world turned and the pathway ended
Do you still believe we all lose?
Two empty trees shaded like a pair of poles

Emily whispered to herself: “the warmth of the sun in the right.
Divided by a flimsy fence, all that's left is in the cold.
Victor, would you like to meet at room zoom?”

US troops zoomed by leaving a stench of smoke.
The birds however continued their solo chanting.


Note: A legal challenges in the wake of the 3 November vote to contest ballot counts.
Note: A legal challenges in the wake of the 3 November vote to contest ballot counts.
Batool Nov 2020
Her love for him
bright enough to
turn his darkest hour
into a sky full of stars

His love for her
fragrant enough to
make it's presence known
to the blindest eye !!
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