Hello Poetry
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hey! you there in the dark come into the light i cannot see you is that you baring your teeth at me or are you grinning at my unknowingness that's it don't be shy it's just the glare cascading off the reflection of the wading pool shining back at you at me at us together in this darkness but if we come into the light we can dance ripple the water & change the tide until it no longer knows where you begin & i end
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May 19
May 19, 2026 at 11:57 AM UTC
delta.
The incredible hysteria of fear Of their own hands choking themselves Should they ever lose their privilege!
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Jul 21, 2025
Jul 21, 2025 at 12:00 PM UTC
Pithy#5: What motivates the rich and famous?
#5: warm welcome, a kind beginning begun _______________________________________ it is a bit of a shock, the world of words more often swallows & surrounds you up  between walls of impenetrable silence you actually read me, heard me, even fed me!  they taught me/us to diagram our sentences into its component parts, like a car going to an auto body shop, *** my car needed a muffler but instead I was given a new horn, and I’m in an empty Walmart parking lot, unsurrounded, and leaning on the horn, making a fireworks celebration of one sound, and your warm welcome,  kind welcome, to a visitor to this new planet, astonishes & astounds, for it seems we speak the sane/same language, how can this be??? Is smiling a word on this planet?
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Feb 2, 2025
Feb 2, 2025 at 4:02 AM UTC
#5: warm welcome, a kind beginning begun
i tell myself not to chide you child   not to berate you into a convenient obedience yet.... just last Monday eve i told your voice that it was shrill   like a hurt bird (that cuts a career as Singer out of your future) just yesterday i told you graphically and with crazed gestures about the dangers of the open upstairs window (a future fear of heights may well be on its way) and i remember once i told your body that society frowns upon ****** (that'll ensure future embarrassment  shame and ****** awkwardness) i chide myself now    these practices must cease
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Feb 3, 2025
Feb 3, 2025 at 3:27 PM UTC
don't chide the child
healing hands careful heart but at what cost?
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Oct 22, 2024
Oct 22, 2024 at 12:52 AM UTC
five little letters
Distraught, Destroyed, Dis, embodied. My halls, The walls, my wicked falls turn'd from stone, dissolved to nary a diffid tone thrown by ******* bones. An amorphous form born from the aimless mourning that now has no space to face and call my own. Telltale swarms of which I myself did warn would come, Once and again I crumble from what once which I would succumb. Myself. Dear. Gone. I am, afloat in limbo forever struck with what, I Left only to silence my mind until once again, I would find the cut. ... Page 2 My totality revised, Scratched through like the words unworthy. Smoothed over the rough draft, Autobiography progressive, Nary writing another day's pages.
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Jul 7, 2021
Jul 7, 2021 at 4:31 PM UTC
Melted
i loved you. i wanted nothing more than to be with you, so am i really okay breaking your heart like this? intentionally playing the villain is just so much easier, than having to explain a loss. sometimes i think that i still do.
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Feb 1, 2021
Feb 1, 2021 at 4:47 PM UTC
daily writing 5
Finally... she destroyed his poetry
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Dec 22, 2020
Dec 22, 2020 at 10:58 PM UTC
She (5w)
In the empty but crowded places In the heart full of things and people In the love that screams needs In the darkness of lights I hope I have that someone in whose heart there is a special place with whom the crowded places seems empty with just him and me The needs of ours are fulfilled with love And in each others happiness We are able to love our darkness too.
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Nov 3, 2020
Nov 3, 2020 at 1:49 AM UTC
Words that means something to you #5
the clouds grow heavy and now the rain falls softly the animals dance
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Aug 18, 2020
Aug 18, 2020 at 8:32 PM UTC
Rain Dance~
Lift the crumb-sized bit to your lips, Hesitate until it's too late for hesitation, Fold to tongue and absorb those tasty, harmless Spider footprints and germatic warzones.
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Jul 28, 2020
Jul 28, 2020 at 12:32 AM UTC
Five second rule
MorningSunDirtyDishesDwindlingFridgeOhNowTheKidsAreUpWhere'sMyAssignmentDueDamnThatDogWrongShoesRightShoesCan'tForgetTheLunchCarNeedsGasLaundryLaterProfessorAssignedANOTHERPaperCoffeeBreakMyLibraryChairIsTakenWhyOhWhyDidIHaveToGetTheCubicleNextToTHEMStaringAtAScreenInsuranceCompanyCalledForgotToCheckTheWaterHeaterGottaPickUpThatNewCoatForMySonWhyOhWhyIsTheClockSoDamnSlowManMyBackHurtsWhyDidn'tIGetAStandingDeskIAlmostForgotOfficeHoursFINALLYTimeToClockOutMomLookAtThisDadSheHitMeDidNotDidTooDAMNThatLaundryIForgotItOfCourseTheProfessorWouldLeaveFiveMinutesEarlyOhGottaBuyPresentsForCousinStaceyOhFUCKDidYouJustSpillGrapeJuiceOverTheNewCarpetYouDidIShouldn'tSwearAtTheKidsEvenMoreMountainsOfHomeworkNowTheBaby'sScreamingTheDishesAreStillDirtyHiHoneyI'mHomeCan'tTalkGottaGetDinnerReadyLooksLikeALongNightAtTheLibraryAgainAndTheLawnNeedsToBeMowedGodI'mSoTired- "Can I do that for you?" "Here, let me take care of it." "Don't worry honey, I took out the trash already." Silence. More than silence. Space. Freedom. The radiant light crossing the distance between the worries pressing your spine and a task checked off by someone else when you weren't looking. It is an air valve popping loose. A throat suddenly choked up even as the tension melts away from your muscles. Sacrificial love replacing the items on your to-do list, one by one. Your mind free to think again, to live again. An oasis in a blinding desert, planted by another person, fertilized with their perception, and watered with their care. It's not just that a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. It's that you're now weightless. They have shouldered your burdens with a tender smile. They have helped you learn to fly again.
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Jul 24, 2020
Jul 24, 2020 at 9:18 PM UTC
Love Languages Series - Service
MorningSunDirtyDishesDwindlingFridgeOhNowTheKidsAreUpWhere'sMyAssignmentDueDamnThatDogWrongShoesRightShoesCan'tForgetTheLunchCarNeedsGasLaundryLaterProfessorAssignedANOTHERPaperCoffeeBreakMyLibraryChairIsTakenWhyOhWhyDidIHaveToGetTheCubicleNextToTHEMStaringAtAScreenInsuranceCompanyCalledForgotToCheckTheWaterHeaterGottaPickUpThatNewCoatForMySonWhyOhWhyIsTheClockSoDamnSlowManMyBackHurtsWhyDidn'tIGetAStandingDeskIAlmostForgotOfficeHoursFINALLYTimeToClockOutMomLookAtThisDadSheHitMeDidNotDidTooDAMNThatLaundryIForgotItOfCourseTheProfessorWouldLeaveFiveMinutesEarlyOhGottaBuyPresentsForCousinStaceyOhFUCKDidYouJustSpillGrapeJuiceOverTheNewCarpetYouDidIShouldn'tSwearAtTheKidsEvenMoreMountainsOfHomeworkNowTheBaby'sScreamingTheDishesAreStillDirtyHiHoneyI'mHomeCan'tTalkGottaGetDinnerReadyLooksLikeALongNightAtTheLibraryAgainAndTheLawnNeedsToBeMowedGodI'mSoTired- "Can I do that for you?" "Here, let me take care of it." "Don't worry honey, I took out the trash already." Silence. More than silence. Space. Freedom. The radiant light crossing the distance between the worries pressing your spine and a task checked off by someone else when you weren't looking. It is an air valve popping loose. A throat suddenly choked up even as the tension melts away from your muscles. Sacrificial love replacing the items on your to-do list, one by one. Your mind free to think again, to live again. An oasis in a blinding desert, planted by another person, fertilized with their perception, and watered with their care. It's not just that a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. It's that you're now weightless. They have shouldered your burdens with a tender smile. They have helped you learn to fly again.
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13
Haven't replied in 4 days, Wish you would've done an effort, To understand me. But you didn't.
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Jul 17, 2020
Jul 17, 2020 at 11:46 AM UTC
5:46
I pieced it back together, It took me forever, It's still fragile, I'm trusting you, Please don't break it again, I don't think I can fix it this time. I can't afford another forever.
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May 3, 2020
May 3, 2020 at 9:23 AM UTC
Heart
The Cost “5 minutes to write, 5 minutes to edit and 10 more to cease weeping,” when the inquiry arrives, how long/where from it comes, gave this answer more or less the response accurate more or less the weeping really never ceases I will return to it again, **** poem random when, unreasoned why, wherefore a stumble, a message, months from now, tomorrow, even decades and I’ll remember the precise circumstances for each poem has a Cost, that excises a piece of you, a new cut, freshly salted, an antibiotic of loving may remove the redness, but not the white line, so what you call a scar, I, I call it an etched memory preserved the sum of all These Costs, all these memories, cumulative, additive, addictive - someone says: stop being so sensitive, leave the telling to others, or keep them in plastic bags, dated, retrievable, in case an antiretroviral antidote is ever needed, a fresh injection when you think you could even cease to care The Cost is always capitalized, for the Cost is called human capital, the invisible financing that permits our existence till all spent, when we’ve run out of drawer space, zipper bags, breaths to be taken away and glass jars to store them, if the mind says no more! then it will be ok, for you are all spent The Cost so great! this a double entendre, for they are the stuff of me, whatever greatnesses I ever possessed within them kept and believed, happily paid for past and present, for the future, will happily pay for it right now, again and again, for the Costs are who I am, till, such time that Costless arrives, eyes closed, nothing left to post, to recall, no coin to give, my purposed all paid, as if all paid could ever cause my weeping to cease Mon May 4 10:48 am
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May 5, 2020
May 5, 2020 at 3:11 PM UTC
The Cost (5 minutes to write, 5 minutes to edit and 10 more to cease weeping)
The Cost “5 minutes to write, 5 minutes to edit and 10 more to cease weeping,” when the inquiry arrives, how long/where from it comes, gave this answer more or less the response accurate more or less the weeping really never ceases I will return to it again, **** poem random when, unreasoned why, wherefore a stumble, a message, months from now, tomorrow, even decades and I’ll remember the precise circumstances for each poem has a Cost, that excises a piece of you, a new cut, freshly salted, an antibiotic of loving may remove the redness, but not the white line, so what you call a scar, I, I call it an etched memory preserved the sum of all These Costs, all these memories, cumulative, additive, addictive - someone says: stop being so sensitive, leave the telling to others, or keep them in plastic bags, dated, retrievable, in case an antiretroviral antidote is ever needed, a fresh injection when you think you could even cease to care The Cost is always capitalized, for the Cost is called human capital, the invisible financing that permits our existence till all spent, when we’ve run out of drawer space, zipper bags, breaths to be taken away and glass jars to store them, if the mind says no more! then it will be ok, for you are all spent The Cost so great! this a double entendre, for they are the stuff of me, whatever greatnesses I ever possessed within them kept and believed, happily paid for past and present, for the future, will happily pay for it right now, again and again, for the Costs are who I am, till, such time that Costless arrives, eyes closed, nothing left to post, to recall, no coin to give, my purposed all paid, as if all paid could ever cause my weeping to cease Mon May 4 10:48 am
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38
believe that you can surely shuffle your miserable untested vocabulary into never been heard before combo’s, believe your insights have never transversed in my blood stream, a poem unheard, yours, a transfusion of not-my-blood type believe you are special in life, in love, in pain, in sad madness, only you can feel primarily and primitive, all of us, tertiary does the optimist mock you? most certainly not. achieve poems are allusions, born each time, first time, summary illustrations of eyes, mouth, all your sensations together, make a messy birth canal achieve your first is our first as well, make the risk-taken a celebration, newness is a gift unique, bond us to your children issue nouvelle achieve with insolence of the blind beggar, a teasing teaspoon of outrageous good fortune, a fist hammering breakthroughs of pain and glory N.B. my words have been tasted by thousands of thousands, a fleeting glory that is instantly lost to the crumbling dissatisfaction that all that your needs, your findings, solutions, the breaking of the chains of your boundaries, drawn by imposition, the fragility of the lines that contour your image, make you nothing, are nothing more than just another poet which is the most, most glorious honor one can proudly bestow upon oneself
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Nov 7, 2019
Nov 7, 2019 at 6:49 PM UTC
An Optimist’s Guide to Poetry Writing (believe/achieve)
Pin me down the bed. Touch my body, kiss my neck. I don't miss your toxic "love" But I want your body back.
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Nov 4, 2019
Nov 4, 2019 at 1:27 PM UTC
5
If I can't see it in 5yrs then I shouldn't give it 5mins of my time. I'm bothering her constantly already provoked some hostility. I want a woman who knows how to satisfy her man. I'm young & ambitious starring at the cosmos knowing if the circumstances were in my favor I'd take her.
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Oct 20, 2019
Oct 20, 2019 at 11:51 PM UTC
Bothered mentality
Hey. Here's another letter kinda thing. Been writing these a lot lately. In my mind, never on paper. I don't really know how to explain what I feel anymore. It's like, I have this sense of feeling? Like I know that they're here, but I just can't seem to find them? Like I can see someone else in front of me, while knowing that they are a person with feelings and thoughs, but not being able to recognise them. Not being able to see the person standing there. Like I can see all of it, but not knowing that it's there. It kinda scares me, in a way. Like I see myself, but not me. Like I see something I was, that people still see as me. I don't know anymore. I've been trying to get my feelings out, and I still am, I just don't succeed often. This is seemingly the only way to get out whatever I'm thinking or feeling. Which is a lot, but also nothing at the same time. I feel lost, so incredibly lost. The world's passing me by and I'm behind a ******* window trying to reach it, but I can't. I never did. I just taught people how to communicate with me through that stupid barrier. It never went away. But if people don't come close to you they won't notice that, so it's fine I guess. And then you came in and smashed the entire thing with a ******* hammer. I wasn't used to opening up to people, especially not people who understand. But, I'm glad I did, and glad that you are here to listen. I don't open up to people much. Been botteling these emotions since 2006, so it's hard to open the bottle now. But I'm trying, and I can't thank you enough for being there with me. Thank you, so much. I love you, bye.
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Oct 8, 2019
Oct 8, 2019 at 2:52 PM UTC
Dear [Deadname], (5)
Hey. Here's another letter kinda thing. Been writing these a lot lately. In my mind, never on paper. I don't really know how to explain what I feel anymore. It's like, I have this sense of feeling? Like I know that they're here, but I just can't seem to find them? Like I can see someone else in front of me, while knowing that they are a person with feelings and thoughs, but not being able to recognise them. Not being able to see the person standing there. Like I can see all of it, but not knowing that it's there. It kinda scares me, in a way. Like I see myself, but not me. Like I see something I was, that people still see as me. I don't know anymore. I've been trying to get my feelings out, and I still am, I just don't succeed often. This is seemingly the only way to get out whatever I'm thinking or feeling. Which is a lot, but also nothing at the same time. I feel lost, so incredibly lost. The world's passing me by and I'm behind a ******* window trying to reach it, but I can't. I never did. I just taught people how to communicate with me through that stupid barrier. It never went away. But if people don't come close to you they won't notice that, so it's fine I guess. And then you came in and smashed the entire thing with a ******* hammer. I wasn't used to opening up to people, especially not people who understand. But, I'm glad I did, and glad that you are here to listen. I don't open up to people much. Been botteling these emotions since 2006, so it's hard to open the bottle now. But I'm trying, and I can't thank you enough for being there with me. Thank you, so much. I love you, bye.
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