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HC Apr 2018
I used to dream of what we could be
I used to hold a storm of emotions inside of me

I used to fantasize
But now they are passed emotions that i rarely recognize

I've wanted him back for so long
at the top of my lungs I'd sing our song
And now he's mine again...
I'm happy but something seems wrong


I love him. But I don't.
Umi Apr 2018
Eternity can change in a fleeting moment,
These are the hopes of a girl, bound to a chair, looking out of the window, seeping sadness with in a barage of frustration locked away,
Rejected by the other kids because she was different, she soon has stopped to bond anymore, friendships seemed like a happy illusion,
Too scared to go outside and be made fun of, or called out for her oddness which would unfold in special, yet fascinating, blissful ways,
Days pass by, which become months, with no range of change to be seen or gazed at, sealing her emotions away to stay sane, one option,
Reading to develop a further understanding of humans, as to develop greater, wonderous capabilities of imagination to simulate a world within her little, fragile, yes almost broken mind, in which she can grow strong and happy, alike her flowers she calls her own children,
After all, each time she desired to get close to one or another, a cold shoulder has been served, their backs turning at her in spite and hate,
But, this girl has lost the reason to mind it, after all, her loneliness is her shelter, her fantasy and her dreams a happy place to return to,
Left behind, like a one winged heron.

~ Umi
i got vapor for a soul
fleeting smoke, no remorse
i shiver at the sight of all
like my mouth chiselled
like my eyes drawn shut
blinds replaced by a wall
we are not humans here
we are abandoned homes
lost cities
twelve thousand feet under
sunken ships, skeleton hopes
we rejoice at the dark sky
thunder inside my bones
we are sad
we drink the fallen king’s wine
we are mad
mad
mad
mad
we call it victory.
i call it sweet release.
sometimes, to write for yourself is a must. write about what it feels like, and how it hurts. doesn't matter if they don't understand. they're not meant to know.
It takes
Just a tumble
Of fresh water
Mind you inverted
To freshen me
Fills me with energy
Charges the pulsating
Blood in my veins
Soothes me
OK in winters
As the drops of water
Flow down my body
Oh oh.......
From the hair
To the forehead
Back and in front
Of the neck
Oh what a shiver
It arouses me
Down the collarbone
Stimulating
My chest
Running
Like mountain streams
Down my heaps
Of body tissue!
To the navel
Now wait:-) :-) :-) :-)
Down and down it goes
Waist
To the thighs
O what joy it is
O guys
OK to the
Knees
Lower legs
Foot
Oh nothing is left
Water has so less
Cohesive force
It ascends with the sap
Up the plants
Abounds in our body
Keeps me alive!
Oh I forgot
Such is its dance
I love water
And with summer
I'll do pitter patter
Just with my friend
Water
In pools
My sweating body
Running out of it
And in the
Bathrooms!
OK we should save water.Its the elixir of life.But do enjoy the sustainable watery works with fun in this summer
Nicholas Fonte Mar 2018
Mother
Father
Brother
And then we have
Sister?
It would sound weird
If it was "sisther"
But why separate her?
She did nothing
To deserve this hate
Blood has made them
The Same
But she has her
Own Name
And I'll tell you
Now
That's not lame
This is a minor note here but I wrote this poem in two different ways. I liked the vertical version the most between the two which is what you see here, but the other version kept a lot of the lines together like lines 1-3 were all one line and lines 6-7 were also one line. The words are the same, but I thought I'd note it here.
FRITZ Mar 2018
not morning but a yellow gleam
encases my surroundings
developing the world
in a faded nostalgic glimmer.

last night i wandered around a club having ditched my friends
just for a bit. it was i needed some space to fill my lungs with
something like impropriety. i ran into a woman who said she loved
my style. she had heavy but well-done eyeliner on, black lipstick
and a serious spray of piercings or diamond studs lining the right side of her face. i gave her a nod and my best i'm-not-drugged
look. i noticed she had a platter so she must have been a server. i clicked my cigarette holder in my tongue and stumble off.

i walk on the other side
im pumping blood to a body that doesn't experience to a body that
cannot relish or feel. both liberating and damning it is.

slaughtered fruits, abandoned plastic, clothes like rags on the floor.
what filth is this
what time has come?
caught and corrupted and cornered.

will anyone read this and will anyone make sense of it?
the importance or the symbolism? the intimacy?
but a poem is just words.
and a cigarette is just smoke.
just floating.
FRITZ Mar 2018
the shakes own my body they make it harder to type so i peck at my keyboard like a ******* animal and i keep smashing the power button every time i hit the backspace and i'm afraid the whole godforsaken thing will turn off. macs arent bad though. i might be okay.

wow this whole ******* thing just went to ****? can i even say that? i'll be ******* honest with you (aside from the avant-garde scene and the nihilistic WOKE poetry ensemble) i really don't know if i can say that or not? i mean when was PC invented? like 2008? *******. that was ten years ago gimme a break.

jesus man the shakes are horrible tonight. they're so bad im really just relying on autocorrect to do everything for me but sometimes it misses and so do i. i could use diction on the mac but then they would have my voice and once apple took o ver the world id just become one of their drones or something.

i know why too. maybe the "substances" im constantly ingesting. (oooh "substances" s cary word ayh right. you're an idiot.)

or maybe its the lack of creativity and originality in everything i see and hear and do? maybe not.

(taking a break to ____________).

all the bugs and trees are talking to me and you know what in not eve n gonna bother with typing at this point so if are still here then good for you,

.... six, no wait, make that, 12 bottles of wine. and some whiskey. and some champagne. and a jug of sangria. and...

it's **:05 as I write this. so if you're awake and reading this then either you're a night-owl or you live somewhere thats not here or there.

i m really truing to see; the shakes off and I think in doing pretty well so i have to just keep it up. right?

im going to shrink down and sleep with my succulent. tomorrow will be where hell is waiting.

******* come in early. 2-3 AM. i always wake up right about then.+
thank you once again, Fritz.
Ryan P Kinney Mar 2018
Our love is not normal
**** all that nonsense
This is a tapestry of our real, filthy stories
This is our beautiful love

Love by the sweat of our brows and breaking on our backs

This is not innocent, sweet, romantic love
This is love with swear words, dirt, and bruises
Scabbed over wounds
And interwoven scars

Love is an Armageddon

Let’s fight my demons together
I hold the sword
You hold the faith
I’ll take the blows and you’ll feel them
You make me believe in what I’m doing

We are clad in the defective armor of past lovers
Who were not strong enough
Not brave enough
Not up to our challenge

It’s not the cliché: you and Me against the world
It’s us against and within the multiverses I (we) create, survive, live in
Some maniac deity randomly switching channels absent mindedly

There are no white flags
Just a constant (technicolor) marching crimson war banner
Beating  the aortic drums of passion
Against the stretched ribcage bars of a super nova nuclear reactor
Barely contained
Always on the verge of meltdown
Cooled only with your tender touch

Our romance is played on my fingertips
Like a jagged out of tune guitar
Angels wince and monsters dance along
To the throbbing carnal symphony

Like a rabid jackal screaming into the night
Like a mismoshed dubstep cacophony
You don’t know why it works
Never sure it will
But you can’t turn away
You like it too much

I want it painful and messy
Like rainbow mud: *****, sticky love
So I will remember to feel it
When we ask “Why the hell are we with each other?”
I want the answer to be so obviously
The only one left
“We love each other”

I promise you nothing less than the infinite multiverses of my manic imagination
You are the idol my every creation worships
This is the Phoenix burned to cinder
Rising from the ashes of our jumbled, mixed, scattered pieces
Spawns our golden child


And then she says, “Was that just a marriage proposal?”
“Honey, every word I say to you is.”
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