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Ten because nine isn't enough
Violence because we never learned how to love
Searched for forgiveness, now we search for blood
Couldn't reach an understanding so we're reaching for the gun
Shoot it ten times because nine isn't enough
05.04.2022
Drink Flask
See the drink flask there on the desk
A boring blue in colour
Slightly scratched and dinted
Well used by the owner
Made to look normal
Like it was just a flask
To carry coffee or juice
Drink it while you eat
Your dinner in work
Or sandwiches out hiking
The things of a normal world
All illusion soon to change
For this contains no drink
Not in the normal sense
It contains a virus from a lab
If the lid is removed
Other things done
And released free
We are all in trouble
Carlo C Gomez Dec 2021
No power in the 'verse
can stop her,
her name is a channel
in all directions,
it's just an object,
it doesn't mean what you think.

"Two-by-two, hands of blue."

Simon says safe passage
is such a slender thread,
a watered-down exchange,
it streams into
the substance of things:
objects in space.

"Two-by-two, hands of blue."

A life of Serenity,
it’s not applicable…
cold and naked,
dipping her feet
into a pond of impossibilities
—what she sees is seldom what she gets.

"Two-by-two, hands of blue."
~
Jaicob May 2021
A way of expression,
A method of destruction,
A powerful shield,
A mighty weapon,
A piece of art,
An escapism...

No matter what you call it,
Poetry is beautiful.
Keep at it, young poet-
I believe in you.
Leaving this in the notes because I have nowhere else to put it.
My mother has been slowly blocking every social connection I have from my phone, so the only way I have of sharing my experiences as of now is through this website. I don't know what I'll do if this is taken from me.

Side note- my parents are very transphobic, so that's why I've had everything blocked. Once I came out as trans, my mother took matters into her own hands to try and stop me from being trans (or something..)  I hope that, given the current circumstances, you can be patient with my lack of posting. Thank you for reading; it means a lot to me.
Hamna Apr 2021
I'm no less than a lion-hearted soul
Who lives by high heroic skills,
Courageously fights off jackals,
And rescues victims with flawless charisma

But I ain't less than a dignified warrior
The most Blessed Teacher, an exemplary
Has taught me
About a weapon
Which has been the answer to infinite sorrows
dreamy desires and unthinkable perils
I've used it to cheer up saddened souls
And to relieve the unrelieved

It is my light
It is the weapon to divert from hapless ends
it is the key to unlock the gates of Mercy
It is otherwise known as Dua
Twalib Mushi Apr 2021
I was on my zone
Ready
with weapon
My heart
hard like stone
Head
stands like mountain
Fearless
fighting alone
Being guided
with my inner
tone
My body
never want to frozen

My story shall be told
When i am gone
A story of a very brave
and courageous son
Fight with  those left us to starve.
Jay M Jan 2021
Their song
Tells of ages great and long
Warriors found and forged
Along the beaten path
Souls deeply bound
Great foes emerged
Faced with mighty wrath

Drinks all shared
Stories of deeds dared
Battles to the very brinks
Of what sanity each knows
Upon steeds of white they rode
Bringing but death and remaining humanity
No matter how ill the journey may indeed bode

Not every battle
Was fought riding in the saddle
With sharpest sword or strongest ax
Nor concealed dagger or fearsome fist
But in walls of roaring metal
With sharpest words and strongest facts
Concealed stagger and fearsome twist
Leaving wounds to bleed
Perhaps more than a visible ****
Fuel to deed great or foul
Perhaps to lash and scowl
To yearn and to feel
To learn and to heal

- Jay M
January 21st, 2021
Like battles of fantasy, but not quite.
JKirin Dec 2020
A weapon that’s finely honed—
not more than a wire, a knife.
Nowhere on Earth I belonged,
until you invaded my life.

Around me, your arms wrap with comfort;
warmth spreading; hold’s steady, no effort.

Throughout, all’s familiar, safe.
My self (for what I always longed)—
no longer a weapon, a knife—
a man, fully, finally owned.
about a military man finding home in the arms of another
Lyn-Purcell Jun 2020
Bells sing at death's dance
Cloak of galaxies vapors
A scythe of petals
Just a short haiku I wrote based on a dream I had
of a sword with charms and bells.
Tommorow, I'll be dropping a third letter of my six part letter series!
It was so sad for me to write, but it will add another layer to the growing story
Heres a link to the three that I have written already:
The Screen [Intro]: https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2667918/the-screen/
Meihua's Message: https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2681085/meihuas-message/
Yuyan's Message: https://hellopoetry.com/poem/3919420/yuyans-message/
Isa Jun 2020
what's it like to have a gun to your head?
the feeling of the cold barrel pushed up against your hair,
knowing that inside that barrel is a future that rides the line you didn't always think you'd walk.
the wideness of that barrel, you can feel it's exact measurements on your skull.
the gaping hole in the center of the tube, that weightless piece against you,
but only physically weightless.
the heaviness of the weapon becomes
as heavy as your heart.

is it the part of the power in the trigger against your hand?
or is it the knowledge of the chemistry inside that gun,
that's pushing against your hand,
like your palm and finger with that gun have a newfound power?
is it a horrifying power?
is it peaceful?
is it aggressive?
loud?
is it as quick as your instincts?
the flip of the coin,
as quick as your mind changes?
is it as exhilarating as you wanted?
or as deadly as you thought?
is the weight of the bullets as much as the potential you have,
that you so easily dispose of?
so easily reject?

which is it, Isa?
it's not worth it.
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