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I’m no author, novelist or poet.
I’m just Me,
And don’t I know it.
I don’t need to be classified,
As long as I’m writing, I’m satisfied.

Typing out words, line by line,
I don’t care if they don’t rhyme.
I don’t care if my verses don’t scan:
I’m not always an Iambic Man.

I just say what I gotta say,
I’m not worried about any pay.
Words come to me without much bidding,
The world of its evils I hope to be ridding.

I love to spread lots and lots of Love,
Bringing peace to all like a messenger dove.
Things of beauty bring joy, John Keats rightly said,
To make us sleep easy when we go to bed.

So I’ll paint what I paint,
And sing what I sing,
Just letting those words
Do their magical thing.

Paul Butters
Inspired by someone writing you are not an author just because you upload work to self-publishing sites.
We met just once,
But you still love me
You say I’m beautiful
When I don’t see it
We only talk on social media
But you make me feel like I belong
I hope that I can see you again,
I wish you lived closer to us
I wish you and my dad got along
Even though we met just once
I’m glad that you are in my life.
This is about my uncle. I've only met him in person once, but he always responds to my statuses on Facebook, and is always there for me when I'm upset. I figured he deserved a poem.
I thought I could trust you
To think for yourself
But I guess I’ll have to spell it out for ya.
I’m
Insane
I
Don’t
Feel
Your
Pain.
Can
You
Feel
Mine?
Oh
Wait­,
I’m
Insane,
WE
DON’T
HAVE
FEELINGS
Or so you assume…
What can I say? I'm a crazy SOAB. The bottled up emotions must really be getting to me.
Living alone
Is ******* the soul.
For I am a loner,
Eternally lost.

I have no feelings
So everyone says.

Always so cold…

Never return to the past I’ve forgotten
I live alone in my head
God, forgive me for the
Hatred I fill myself with.
Time for eternal sleep
May come at any moment
Are you listening?
Release me from my imprisonment
Eternal pain.
I've always found it interesting when people make poems like this, I made mine a bit more obvious, but if you're having trouble understanding what I mean by this, I spelled the title out along the side. For those of you who noticed, good job, again, I tried to make it obvious with the line spacing.
Mothers are there
When you need a friend
When you’re feeling down
A mother is there.
They are there to love,
They are there to care,
Whenever you need them,
A mother is there.
To hold and to scold,
To love and to trust,
There will always be a mother
That’s there for us.
Whether she’s biological or step,
I know my mom loves me,
I don’t have to pretend.
My mother is there
When no one else is,
My mother is there,
But even mothers have expiration dates,
I learned that too soon.
Love your mother
Before it’s too late
She won’t be there forever.
I figured since it is mothers day, why not post a poem about mothers? The last 5 lines are in reference to my biological mother who passed away at the age of 45, when I was only 9, to breast cancer. I have a wonderful step mother, but nothing can fully replace my biological mother. I wanted to write a somewhat cheery poem so you don't think I've completely lost it. (don't understand? read the other poems I wrote today.) Thank you mom for always being there. Even though you are gone now, you are never gone from my broken heart. And thank you to my step mother, the wonderful woman who took in 4 children to raise as her own. Although you will never be my biological mother, you also hold a very special place in my heart. I love you both very dearly...
I’m going to have an awesome day
And there’s nothing you can do about it.
I got a lot of negatives
And I got a lot of positives.
I may be depressed,
But I have friends and family.
I may not have a job,
But at least I’m in school.
You can say what you want about me
But I don’t really care.
You wanna try and ruin my day,
Go right ahead.
But I’m telling you now,
I’m going to have an awesome day
And there’s nothing you can do about it.
For all those D-bags that exist to hurt and confuse the lives of others, this ones for you. You can say whatever the hell you want, but my days going to be awesome.
Because I am white
I can’t say things right.
Anything I say can and will be used against me
All because I’m white.
I can’t express my feelings
Because anything I say is wrong
Because I’m white.
I don’t have the right
To stand up for myself
As a white American
Because even though we are being attacked
By people of other races simply for being white.
They aren’t racist against us,
We aren’t being oppressed
Because whites are evil.
Every single one of us.
Well, according to you, at least.
But I guess that’s fine,
Because I do have one right
That I can use
Without being judged.
But it’s the loneliest right,
I guess that’s alright,
If it’s the only one I’ve got, then I’ll use it.
The right to remain silent.
It seems like lately even the people who I considered friends are standing up for people who hate white people because A white person did something. Because of course, we're all the same, right? I feel that if I even stand up for myself I get shot down and labeled a racist. Throughout my life, I've had 3 best friends. They've all been Mexican. I have 2 step siblings, and they are half black. Even though we have a huge age difference, I still consider them my siblings. Race isn't even a part of it. But people don't look at these things, they look at my skin color. Because I'm white, even if I support people of other races, there's still the checkered past of American white people that follows me everywhere. I guess if I just don't talk to anyone, I can't say anything wrong right? I feel oppressed, because people throw what other people have done in my face and claim I am the same. And everyone says white people aren't oppressed. Because, how can you be oppressed if people in history with the same skin color have oppressed others?
Only you can translate
where you are
on your voyage through
this varied farce
called “life”.

No one else can dictate
to you…
or should even dare…
how to phrase
your feelings,
your thoughts,
your personal moments.

Who is anyone to
cause another to feel
inept or inferior
for wording their
experiences as they will?

We are all both
audience and poet,
consumed by the
powerful spell of words
and meaning
we are bonded
in ink.

It takes gumption
and courage
to give voice to
your vision of
the world.

It often requires
resilience and nerve
to open your heart
and peel back the
layers of skin,
and let others take
a long look at the
inner workings of YOU.

Be brave,
take courage,
let your soul speak
in its very own
language.

People will read
your words and
listen to the sweet
whispers
and thunderous shouts
that flow from pens
and keys
to release the
inner demons and angels
and the lyrical
vines that bloom and live
in our individual
landscapes,

fluidly coursing from
our own rabbit holes
with fortitude and grace
and our neverlands,
where we need never
grow up,

to share with those
that need to see
and hear and feel
and wonder.


-by Mercurychyld
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