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annh Sep 2020
Beauty is not favoured by comparison.
Does that make sense? I’m not sure. Do I mean that we tend not to see the ‘beauty’ in ourselves? Definitely. Do I mean that what is considered ‘beautiful’ by the majority nullifies the minority’s perspective? Probably. Do I mean that ‘beauty’ does not always demonstrate generosity or humility? Maybe. And why have I used inverted commas? No idea. It appears that B-E-A-U-T-Y is easier to appreciate than it is to define.

‘When she transformed into a butterfly,
the caterpillars spoke not of her beauty,
but of her weirdness. They wanted her
to change back into what she always
had been. But she had wings.’
- Dean Jackson
James Foley Aug 2019
She shunned him—hung upwhen heI'd call.
His broken heart cried, End it all!'
On a dock's edge, above the ocean
He stood and drank a poisoned potion.
Then looped a noose around his head,
And with one shot shot himself dead.

Or would have, but he missed his head
And shot th noose loop loose instead,
Then, falling, gulped the salty ocean,
Which made him puke the poisned potion.
Swimming ashore, he blamed himself
Becaause he could not slay nimself.
But then she came. He watched her fall
Into his arms, answering his call.
Crazy fantasy, but good wshes for us all.
Caien Musharraf Jul 2019
Lurking in the dark
Listening to the song of early lark
Scary vision void of light
Can he **** the vision, he might
Coldness in the rainy breeze
Wish everything could be cleansed with water
Every rainy breeze is first warmer
And these **** spectrum lines of Balmer
With no light to be felt
No tide from the Mediterranean belt
With no stone to pelt
The Raven in his best sits
Watches him turning into oblivion
In a flash
Nat Lipstadt Sep 2018
if I got a poem out of every message I receive...ha!...I do...

quite a bit upon to chew,
but a request from her,
to please ignore her weirdness,
too juicy to pass unnoticed,
because it goes to the heart of the mad matter

'tis that weirdness that I do so cherish,
fully reflected in my own poem-children,
my multiple identities, that the FBI is yet tracking

give me your weirdness, yearning to be free,
so my poems can be inscribed upon a crown

and daughter adopted dear,
that one crown,
thy name,
thy madness upon it etched,
modified to rest
easy
upon thy temples

<•>
for Ali
xmxrgxncy Oct 2016
if my life is a constant case of
deja vù
then why am i having so much trouble
**remembering myself
Mark Lecuona Oct 2015
I’m aware of so many things
But it’s my choice to be sure or hesitant
I know I could pierce my ear for Sunday nights only
I wonder if it would make me seem more militant

we can talk at a party
what you don’t know
what I don’t say
it all depends

I decided how I look is only good for a few minutes
Then our minds take over racing past our eyes
The soft sidewalk exists if you let it carry you
Take off your shoes, smile a lot, don’t tell lies

we can talk in a bar
what I don’t know
what you don’t say
it all pretends

I do have so many doubts
But it’s my choice to let them get to me
Sometimes a headache is a relief from life
It forces me to stop thinking about the things I see

we can talk in a park
what I already know
what you already said
it almost ends

I decided how you look is good for a long time
I’m sorry if you need more but its where we start
You look interesting enough, especially your style
I wonder what you’ll be like after I break your heart

we can talk on a phone
what I already said
what you already know
it almost begins
brandon nagley May 2015
See,
      Thy world is a smelting *** of whimsical worldchyme stew,
A goulash that aquire's carrots, beef, potatoes, and other uncanny things,
Well,
        As for me!
                                           I'm its gravy!!!!
Dont know why I made this lol I guess boredom can make a mans mind incredibly strange!!
You were the best
Among the rest

That's why we're weird together
Cause we do things in another manner
Now you ask, "What's the matter?"

I feel down
My face is in a frown

You two are going
leaving

Our weird antics
And those undeniably numerous frantic

All our laughs filled with glee
Are going to be missed by me

Now I don't want you to be blue
This poem is my greatest THANK YOU
:') :'(
Mr X Mar 2015
There's a very fine line between
Weirdness and Greatness...

And often the transition
Is undetectable.
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