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Bekah Halle Apr 9
Add voice to my poetry,
Don’t fear how you sound.
Feel the rhythm of my soul,
Open your mouth and shout it aloud.
It might start quiet,
Or even as a small squeak?
You’ve hushed it for too long,
Pull your hands back, so you can finally speak.

Your words might fall on deaf ears,
But don’t be discouraged;
The beat can’t be silenced,
Trust, try, and let yourself be encouraged.
Speak the words you’ve longed to say,
Just like a new language,
It might take a while to master,
But don’t give up, grow in courage.

Learn from others,
Be ok to fail.
T’is a season of new things,
And this path will turn into a trail.
Feel the beckoning, His yearning, and His delight,
Be willing, open your heart.
Play, see, taste, and I say again, trust.
Don’t rush or mourn, it’s just the start!
Ken Pepiton Mar 2
Prove the wise serpent harmless as the dove.

Put on the whole armor metaphor, contain yourself,

dare let a spirit test if I can say
- there did you hear it…

this is true
the three essential mere words, tied to the story you're in,

there was a beginning, as with any bubble form, once
upon a certain time, as certainty grew worse,

madness became standard anger modality, berserkers
were bred, as these days the grand wedoms breed
heroic champion character development programs,

elite forces,
chosen warriors,

each a volunteer, taken the step, learnt the salute,
comprehended the safety in the chain of command,
- es no mi culpa
be wise as those who prayed
to a manifested golden calf,
be so wise as those who, to this day, say to the vicars,

to you alone, let Jah speak, for we are totally unworthy,

thus it  is written, read the preacher to me, no escape
with honor, but on the battlefield,

so okay, everyday people, common folk, simple art,
some time spent,
invested, using investigatory story skilled honed,
on audio only Perry Mason, take the stand,

I need not remind you, you remain under oaths,
and woe to the man who does not believe,

faith alone be the evidence
of hoped for things occuring as wished,

tool for the task, a maker ever wishes, such
such tools as these we use to read, ready
we become some sorted thing, filtered

line by line, sieved as fine ground flour, dust

thou art, and unto dust, eh
the cinematic depiction of ancient burial sanctuary.

Sanctimonious display, displayed artfully and often,
always show the coffin, or the urn, or the ashes

on the wind,
it all depends on wind working,

otherwise, the stench is enough to make
life under the sun and moon and stars, impossible,

here. Where self evidence appears, with an ancient
silly wise wombed man's grin,

answered now with slight smile level reassurance.

Real life is done on a continuing basis.

As an ancient adage says, the unexamined life
is worthless, not worth the cost of living.
Becoming a form of information, destined to exist upon a time, once.
TS Feb 23
Being talked down to -
That never happened.

Being taken advantage of -
That isn't true.

Being stood up -
That's dramatic.

Being violated -
That's just plain wrong.

Being broken -
That's pathetic.


You put finger quotes around my word. The word I used to open up to you.

But oh... I'm so sorry. I didn't realize that you majored in my trauma enough to tell me my own history.



-t.s.
Amanda Kay Burke Aug 2023
Giving my word that this time I will change
Promise kept for once indeed is something strange
Read lips when I say to you "Help me stay strong"
Painting your flaws red will always feel wrong
The way to reach goals is to grow to rely
On each other til the storm passes us by
It's learning to trust without question or concern
In rain until this painful period is adjurned
Waiting for strength to flood limbs
Clear each cloud away that dims
To dance on fingertips so near
Keep looking but it never reappears
Written 4/17/20
I S A A C Aug 2023
i threw a penny into a fountain a fortnight ago
i trust the process, removed my ego
the story unfolded like a novel
now I have room to grow
into the grooves, towards the sun
rain is a blessing to some
pain is a lesson for some
i trust the process, trust i’ll become
the words I write in my journal
the worlds I create are personal
Savio Fonseca Jul 2023
She's the only reason for My living,
She's the only breath that I take.
She's the Only Star left in My Heaven.
She's the Sun, for whom I wake.
Tonight when I'm out Moon walking,
I'll ask the Moon that's above.
If out there in the Universe,
There's a sweeter Word than love.
Jeremy Betts Sep 2022
The hardest battles fought are against the chaos found within the rubble of the broken.
Any continuation of this experimentation on the human condition hangs on the theory that an upcomin' breath will allow itself to be taken
Gift or not, presently present solely due to the repeat of a heart beat, reminded constantly it's never a given
Many a complication with said blood pumpin' mechanism ribcaged in, to many components either broken or straight missin'
Naturally raisin' an interesting question, does life support support life or allow it to get one last minute jab in
Seems it's a personalization and ******* of the punishment fitted for the crime of lyin' about livin'
Seein' right through the Facebook filter projection, doom sets in without the monitor screens protection
Actin' like spoiled, undisciplined children, often throwin' a tantrum cause we're all on the spectrum
All of us? Yes, everyone.
A nonsensical state of frantic desperation overrides conviction, dignity the next to leave the station
No thought put into what's bein' said even, flippantly askin' for more calendar pages to be added in on the back end
Wildly missin' the irony of spendin' life in line for the next death bed to open, prayin' the priest is well spoken
Choosin' then to allow the soulless prayers to begin, hopin' to pull the wool over the eyes of the creator of all creation
He's up there laughin' and judgin' from heaven, he ain't sendin' help because it's entertainment first, then maybe fit in a lesson
Feels like bein' held in a hostage like situation through a self inflicted condition with a loved ones permission
Ignorin' the DNR written up to eliminate confusion and limit any guessin' 'bout what the dead is thinkin'
Wishin' they'd let go, knowin' they won't though, love can make the right decision impossible to determine
It was always a bogus mission, there's never been no mention of direction much less any talks about a realistic destination
An unorthodoxed tug 'o war, doin' both the pushin' and pullin', can't recall witnessin' a win, I only recognize losin'
The matrix is glitchin', the vale finally lifted as nightmares come to fruition, crowdin' an already distorted vision
Depraved of nutrition, lose sight of ones self in the fog of sleep deprivation
IT'S THE SLEEP THAT LETS THEN IN
In a never endin' hesitation, becomin' one with the comman background vegitation
A threat of slippin' into a comma is beginnin' to look like my very real and inevitable conclusion
The Illusion is crackin' and the illustration behind the fusade is to heavy for some to take in
And if I'm not mistaken it will only worsen for here and we're only here cause you took for granted what will now be taken
WHAT WHERE WE THINKIN'?

©2022
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