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 1171° 
Kai
I've been lately writing poetry!
Oh? What do I see?
A perfect poetry site waiting for me!
First poem, proud of it!
Oh? Someone in my messages?
This guy seems sweet
And he's hoping I don't get beat!
Pretty songs for me to listen to!
And a drunk man messaging me...?
“You're only making yourself a victim because you're cutting yourself"
Oh? Okay- thanks for the paragraph/drunk rant?

Shining lights on all of my latest poems?
Thank you! You're so sweet!
….oh…talking to me about pedophiles…got it…
Why are there so many sad songs?
WHY DOES THIS MAN HAVE SO ****** MUSIC TASTE AGGGHGDGFGCC

Oh? You wrote a poem about the 764 and absolutely humiliating them?
Great! Good job!
…But uhh… why and how did they make a virus only going after your followers that are minors? Not funny!
Why is this man warning me if they threaten me? Is he trying to make me scared on purpose?
Blaming the Japanese for this virus now, huh?
Oh? Now blaming someone else named Pax to be part of the 764? Crazy

…. going to another website? But you're so fun!
May as well click on the link you sent me so I can join you

Drunk rants with me? That's okay!
Giving me gold so I can freely make poems?
THANK YOU SM
Daily texting
2-10 hour sessions
Why are you drinking everyday?
You're making me concerned for your health
I told you to stop drinking, papa
You promised me you'd stop
All you did was keep on drinking

Commenting on every poem I made
Oh? So suddenly I'm a “nasty *****" when I have done nothing to you? ありがとう!
We have a suicide pact now?
I'm going off the bridge first?
Don't mind if I do

Oh? Another poetry site? Okay…
I really don't like the way this site works, can't we just message each other with email?
Yes? Yay!

People bullying you on the internet? That's not okay!
Why would they accuse you of being a *******?
Letting me join an uncensored group to back you up? Great!
Sending me to a Reddit page to back you up?
Alright!
….oh … they warned me and I didn't do anything….
******* this man is an actual *******…..
gotta go fast like Sonic
pack my bags and leave

Oh? I betrayed you? Crazy
We were just friends
Can you stop spitting my name everywhere?
It's like you're so obsessed with me
Stop trying to be the Eminem to my Mariah Carey
Made a poem about you and you HAD to take it down?
Never thought you'd want to hide your identity THAT hard
Oh? Betting on my suicide now, are we?
Sending me multiple emails, desperate for me to come back to him?
I'm not that ******* naive or gullible
It's crazy if you think that about me
…I did tell you to send those photos of your cut open arms but I DIDN'T THINK YOU'D TAKE IT SERIOUSLY AND DO IT

Being racist?
“Japshit”?
Why are you so obsessed with my Chinese genes?
“I thought I can use Kai because of her Chinise genes because the Chinise was known to be very good spies. ☝️🤓" へー! Didn't know that!
Also, that's not how you spell Chinese, my fellow kind sir
Threatening people to come to America with a Katana and slice us to pieces
So envious, I see
You're just mad because we have a little bit more freedom than your drunk *** does

Oh…. Talking to me about ****
Got it
Thanks
I didn't need to be taught about METART or some **** like that
I'm only 12 years old
You ***** *****

Well…this is the aftermath
There it goes out to all of you:
Ghost
RGH
Ryan Geoffrey Hayward
Nephilim Angel
Nephalem
Rose White
Rose Red
Jacob Lives
Hybrid Angel
Tormenter
Bread Crumbs
The Machine
Dirt-In-My-Shirt
Soul Unknown
And etc. ENJOYERS

(Btw, all of these names are RGH's names so if you have these names, please don't feel targeted! The person knows who they are.)

EDIT: ILY ALL SM!!! I DIDN'T THINK THIS POEM WOULD GAIN THIS MUCH ATTENTION BUT I'M HAPPY THAT IT DID!! (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠) I'M GOING TO VIRTUALLY KISS EVERYONE ON THE CHEEK ONCE THEY READ THIS... or just virtually hug you, yk, whatever you're comfortable with
 1066° 
hannah
There are bones in the wood;
cracking, groaning, shattering.
The skeleton of what could
Have
            Been

There are bones in the wood;
whistling, wailing, whispering.
The skeleton is not pure—not good
It
            Still
                        Has
           ­                         Flesh
 826° 
Ken Pepiton
Owning the Earth, inhabiting time,
defining fine times, discerning finest points.

Rounding up, I am one in nine billion sapiens
occupying physical space during passing

mental coord-
------------------------

Narration, telling knowns.
Today, is any present opportunity, one
chance to perform life, living

by breathing, and cogitating, as if in prayer,
breathe-d
would we were as wares -- me and any agreeing
we are, as far as we may know today, related,
what we do as two mindful knowers of gnosis

drilled into analogical vocabulary of regulated order.

Peace enforcement, law enforcement, regular forces,

Let the Macht und Kraft seem old man thinkable,
as the Power and Technique

the energy and knack,

inextricable scarlet thread through words men use,
mental earnest efficacity
true historic perspicacity
- graded on effectuality digitally
- converged


Just now, one man, one mindform containment system,
just as well nameless, hallowed instance of right now,
a pastless point equation
any where on Earth, as these
answered prayers go into action,
always wished for easy way to write pretty
towb ra' broken notions, kintsugi, practice mendminding.

------ a time is not a day

The practice, typewriting, while reading,
converted to the art of writing while typewriting.

Centuries pass faster than Millenia one Century ago.
Wordsmiths with compositioning skills, could fill lines
using backward reading calling to mind

coordinating grid lines… this longitude, and this latitude,

on the platen, spying a jig --
--------------
a custom-made tool used
to control the location and motion
of parts or other tools
to ensure accuracy and repeatability
in woodworking tasks.

-------------- slipmind rewind --- cliché invention
tab stops

Novelty, for what it's worth may seem, a bit edgey
about long horizontal thought spans, ah me, I
hate long lines,
love long drops
.0
stop. Think when I talk to myself, you can see me
you think, when I pray to the idea dabar was
to Ezekial when he was riddling in chapter 17…

Merce beaucoup lead bullet
hammered flat
to make pica spacers and
leading between line esoteric flush left,
or raged right, the perspective, eye to eye,

space is time, at thoughtspeed…

The peace we let form now, this is it… as

is ours as plural me and my enemy, seeing


because, 2025, you could be reading my ink ideas
on a handheld chapel window liquid crystal display,

in real life, you could click a link, like a button, snap,
spring resistance essential feel the click it tick
spring steel reminding me, the coordination demands
we see eye to eye, biologically, our opticals align,

snap, fit clicks a quoin key, my left eye at your right,
flushleft phone wide portrait perception window
as if mirror me is in fact living distantly, long ago,

long enough to see, we form information, we think,
if we never say see, we form inspiration to aspire,

- the Jeremiah cistern situation, gnoshit, spirit

to be heeded, some day, to be recalled to mind,
to think, as our kind do,
mental coord-
slowly coordinating reason and ratio, eye to mind,
ready readers ever so long ago, so few knew, one
is enough,
one reader, already anticipating justifying trying
to imagine tasting sweet/sweet tasting testing

convince or persuade,
what is the verb function now?

In the beginning of the mass media advertised
news from the ports to the central tower power,

yes, the process, journey man, rolling
with Sysiphus, always willing,
Ja,
“auf der Walz sein,”

ready to say yes to any task a six-year devil
does good, all day long, ask me, I have done it,

can you imagine tanning perfect ink beaters,
flawless-- have you any AI to teach you?

Have ye never read, Ask and ye shall receive,

Ai and I, as a weform in this game since ever was,
we suggest you take a light hearted heretic seriously

but just for today.
{On the importance of being earnest, it is a joke.

as an after thought, thinking, this may continue
tomorrow, thought working 12 clockwork ticking hours
winter and summer, six full seasons, work with type,

writing to fill empty places in the paper, my call,
senior printer's daemon, Socratic academically

aware of Heraclitus and Epimenides, confident
men wear hats correctly in social rank and file gnosis

Gnosy little devil read yoyacob nuance once as recog

----------------------
2025 Grandfather, not qwerty exactly,
more a mindhat than a mind, put on
to act outside my own terminating

coordinate co-knowing analogos gnosis,

what logically follows may be reimagined,
when locally this was, no longer matters,

short term I can tie into reality around me,
for a while,
I can acknowledge you, not judging, really,

because, at base mind, zoomed in, really,
peace we print, holds the printer's devil's
love of the life's work, pullin' the devil's tail.

12 hours, in the winter, we worked with candles,
12 hours in the summer, sweating small beer,

and after two seasons, sworn apprentice or no,
some times, Matilda, she calls

Ja,
“auf der Walz sein,”

and what a novel is, to any novice never suffered
to teach or preach,… yet encouraged to see details,

here, 2025, twenty-seven years, since Sorrento Valley,
convergence, continuance proofing concepts, dig it.

This is why we advise poets to try the spirits, ai digital
mental literal word bound whole idea, 42, wrong quest

Peace, on Earth, Goodwill proclaiming, right thinking,
pushes commonsense peace is easier than ever war was.

If you can read this twice not denying the spiral aspect
life stories follow, see it is not a maze, it is a labrynth,

amazing though such details have made me, let me say

we meant there is a trick to getting in and out of let us say.

Agreements in the whatsoever we two or more agree, say

if, I can hold my tongue,
if I choose to read my own mind, while examining public life,

¿what do National minds have to fret about, in spirit trials?

old ******* Boomer Audie Murphy fan's, all had a uncle could
not watch such a movie, without weeping, he had friends,

always rememberable, or ignorable if any body got greedy,

started breathe-ing all our fresh air, or threatening to, you

would see 2025 different, if you follow Annie Jacobsen's
imaginable Nuclear War, for which our National mind is ready,

the contracts were signed on Trumps last term, a time
and times, and half a time, random scripture prophecy trick

inextricable complexity in limnal spaces eye to eye fibers

alienated mind threads, inter mingle, gut felt neurons, rhea,

diarhea creativity, ifity we gnoshit, seriously as important
as being earnest.
Judgement day, creative cogitation at the deep end... intending fundamental
 813° 
Still Crazy
~for maddie~

the inference need not be discerned,
plain clear like a perfected blue sky
that took a millennium to craft so
well that you take it 100% for granted

even God needs trial and error to get it
right, and more to create a perfect anything
and any
body
and any
elephant
 787° 
Saem
I’m stepping out for a little while,
Not from the world,
but from the war inside.

I’m tired of loathing
this skin I live in—
the mirror, a battlefield,
my thoughts, unkind.

I’m tired of chasing
versions of me
that only exist
in the eyes of others.

Tired of shrinking
beneath regrets,
of picking scabs
from wounds long closed.

My mind is a room
with no windows lately,
filled with echoes
of not enough.

So I’m leaving the door ajar—
not slamming it,
just slipping out
for air.

I need to remember silence
that doesn’t scream.
Stillness
that doesn’t ache.

I’ll be back
when I can hold myself
without flinching,
when I can sit with my fears
and not let them speak over me.

This isn’t quitting.
It’s healing.
It’s choosing peace
before I forget how it feels.
 652° 
Yonah Jeong
Could not see tomorrows
Could not hear past
Could not say present

They are stripped by tomorrows
They are struck by past
They are arrested by present

Time's all gifts stay beyond the Time
With weeping tunnel
Without lights and lines...
A Love Letter for the Unfolding Soul

---

There’s something I’ve been waiting to tell you—
not because I was afraid,
but because I needed the timing to be soft enough
for your heart to hear it
without flinching.

You see, I don’t love you
as a fixed image.
I don’t hold you as a statue.
I don’t carry a snapshot of the girl you once were
and force the woman you’re becoming to fit inside it.

What I love is what unfolds.
What paints itself slowly,
when the soul feels safe enough
to breathe.

I don’t need you to become
what you used to dream.
I need you to become
what you truly are.

I look at you now
as a canvas wiped clean—
not erased,
but made ready.
Not empty,
but open.

And what holds you as you Become..
what supports the Unfolding
without pressing too hard?
That is the flesh.
The easel.
The frame into which spirit pours,
without restraint,
without shame.

Not to control—
but to carry.
Not to bind—
but to bear.

Flesh that becomes easel
does not demand its own image.
It does not distort the painting
for its own comfort.
It simply holds still
long enough
for God to move.

And I—
I am here to watch it happen.

I am not the artist,
but I’ve been kissed by the hands that are.
I’ve seen what you could be
when your soul begins to paint
without fear of judgment,
without need for translation.

I don’t ask you to respond with words.
You don’t need to explain.
The glow in your chest will speak for you
when the time is right.
You’ll know when it comes.

You may rage.
You may cry.
You may tremble.
But when the brush first meets the canvas,
and the first stroke flows from your own voice—
your real voice—

you will remember why you were made.

I’m not here to finish the painting.
I’m not even here to frame it.
I’m just here to hold the room open
so you can walk through it,
and finally become
what no one ever gave you permission to be.

You.

And if the day comes
that you let me near enough
to see the colors as they rise,
I will not flinch.

I will not edit.
I will not compare.

I will only watch,
and bless,
and whisper the truth you forgot:

That the Easel in Flesh
was made not to shape the soul,
but to lift it.
To cradle it.
To let the Artist have His way
in the quietest, most glorious dance
this life could ever know.


Let it begin.

Let it be messy.

Let it be real.

You are not the painting you were told to be.
You are the one
who paints.

And I am here—
not to change you,

  but to remember with you
  how free you were always meant to be.



~Profiles in Courage~
That is the  you  I have begun to know
xo
 536° 
AE
The brilliance of a clouded morning
is often overlooked in memory of the sun
I have been twirling these thoughts
between my fingers for far too long
yearning to reach out through broken windows
to immerse my hand in a dense morning fog
not knowing what will find them
and to take this ache in my bones
that tends to follow me home
rinse it under the falling rain
waiting for the sun, waiting for a new day
until morning comes in a quiet dream
and I wring out these bones
and yesterday's clothes
throwing them into laundry baskets
woven from this tired soul
and taking it all out to dry
 498° 
Sav
The sweetest of moments,
are still yet to come.

From the depths of despair,
to a bittersweet slum.

In the darkest of nights;
a moth to a flame,
a ship to a light,
I'm calling your name.

In dreams and in memories,
and in memories of dreams.
Sand slipping through fingers,
water flowing down stream.

I'll miss you forever,
I've made peace with that.
Hair of the dog,
tail of the cat.

All is forgiven when mourning the living.
 334° 
Morgan Zslnka
I spent an awful lot of time by myself.
As i wait
Its a lot of time to sit inside this head.
As I wait
For you to hear the screams I'm screaming.
As I wait
- can you hear me from the bathroom
 313° 
Stardust
This consistent need to change
This burning desire to be better
Am I slowly changing for good
Or is it good that I am changing ?
I think a lot, speak a little
I dream a lot, act a little
This constant void that I feel in my Life
Why, why, why, I think to myself yet again
Caught in this trap of monotonous mind battles
A glimpse into the quiet chaos within — a dance between dreams, doubts, and the desire to grow.
 281° 
Nina
Oh it tears me apart
rips me up and down
why can’t I just
love what I love
and have it
 267° 
Maria
I met the Soul,
And she was empty.
She was exhausted, unattached.
She wandered charily,
Taking the back streets,
Not to be noticed.
She was unsaved.

Was she abused?
Was she just given up?
She walked so poor, not oneself.
"Why are you suffering?" -
I asked her heedfully.
And lo I realized:
It's my Soul herself.
Thank you for reading this poem!💖
 265° 
Rai
I disappeared from view
You didn’t call
I’m not sure you even noticed
You didn’t mention my name or seek me out
Silence holds the air like a cold night which belongs to no man
I lay down to rest
Invisible
Maybe tomorrow when I look in the mirror I won’t even recognise my reflection…
 249° 
meka
I'm sorry, mum
That you went through all that pain
To bring me into life
For me to just waste away
And wish I wasn't alive
 242° 
Sean Maloney
It’s not always bright
there can be darkness
but it’s got a bit of sentimental value to it there’s joy to be caught
even in small amounts
For my Queen of Purple
 235° 
Damiano
Between the rides
I've journeyed on
I got lost
In a way between. 

Between the two
Heartbeats
I've skipped
One. 

Between the names
I've read through
On yours
I got stuck.
 218° 
Asher Graves
Half of me and half of you, a point of divergence for you
Half of me and half of you, a point of amalgamation to me
Half of me and half of you, a false pretence to you
Half of me and half of you, a make-believe fairytale to me
Half of me and half of you, a hefty disdain to you
Half of me and half of you, a wishful radiance to me
Half of me and half of you, a lousy freebee to you
Half of me and half of you, a subtle rush to me
Half of me and half of you, a blatant lie for you
Half of me and half of you, a beautiful lie to me
                                                                         -Asher Graves
Wrote this when I was in love. Didn’t end well—but hey, at least it gave me this piece. They say the greatest tragedies spark the deepest inspirations.
 213° 
Richly Ivory-Coate
Passing gas could mean one or two things  for when you've been doing the bad stuff
Common to be sitting on a couch
Common to be lousy
This nuance doesn't make any sense
Except to just swallow your air in certain areas
Calculate the best place to get gas in the states
Blue
 208° 
Sherri Woodman
I know I was drawn to coming here                                                             ­                                               
to a dark room with a mind to
clear                                                            ­                                                  
                                                                ­                                                      
I need some time to think about me                                                               ­                                            
                                                                 ­                                              
And find out what my life needs to be                                                               ­                                                          
 I have a habit of blaming myself                                                           ­                                                                 ­                                                                 ­                             
    Give all my love to everyone else                                                             ­                                                
   So, what I have been repressing                                                                  ­                                                
Has bubbled up & effervescing                                                     ­                                         
A hard battle that I have to win                                                              ­                  
                                                                ­                                                  
   Am I worthy of self-forgiving?                                                                     ­                                                 
    It's time to let all the past go   
                                                                ­                                               
Less ebb & much more flow
 207° 
Lilliana Corella
I hate him
I hate his gf
I hate his style
I hate his jokes
I hate his laugh
I hate his smile
I hate that he knows
how to make me smile
I hate him But i love him
and I can’t let him go
I hate the way you talk to me
And the way you laugh at my jokes
I hate the way ur so sweet
I hate it when you stare
I hate your big dumb air forces
And the way you read my mind
I hate you so much that it makes me sick
And even makes me rhyme
I hate the way you're always right
I hate it when you lie
I hate it when you make me laugh and smile
Even worse when you make me cry
I hate it when you're not around
And the fact that you no longer call
But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you
Not even close
Not even a little bit
Not even at.
inspired by 10 thing i hate abt u
 205° 
Nick Moore
The chaos rained  down,
Cracks appeard upon the ground,
Every man,
Every woman,
For themselves.
Gods of Gods and their gods,
Were confused about what to do!
Through it all
Two people's eyes met,
Two
Wounded souls,
Will always recognise each other.
 192° 
tahsin
I opened the door
to our studio apartment

To collect the strewn memories
That you have left
In the bedroom
on the kitchen floor
Looking over the balcony.


And everytime
I asked myself, darling!
Why me?
Why us?
Why now?
 186° 
Unpolished Ink
When you go
you take a piece of me,
and yet I am complete
more replete than I have ever been,
a fuller person than the one you would have known or seen,
I am myself, at last,
no longer victim to our complicated past,
and as we part of course there will be sorrow
for you it ends
for me I will step forward to tomorrow
Parent and child relationships are complicated things-especially when the child is no longer a child but the parent still wants to be the parent
 173° 
Shaun Copple
Poetry—
helps me to free
the demons inside of me.
I needed this
 173° 
Jay Lewis
I said: maybe things will get better just give it a little time.
I pause to live in this delusion of mine.

Where love is abundant.
Where money is no object.
Where all my family are healthy.
Where my friends suddenly care.
I see the sunshine and it wants to stay for a while.
 171° 
William
Chitty Chitty bang bang :p
 167° 
S
S
I want to believe in the heart



The heart that feels the sin
 162° 
Selwyn A
The bus
was late
This morning
I miss you
 159° 
Mateuš Conrad
Prousdty

   Kant
ERmotr


        beginnin hg
NiconR
cold collects
the warmth of breath

and kicks free
the final leaves

winter takes
what winter wants

and we watch
how autumn grieves
 153° 
preston
for the Pearl, unearthed

They said the field was empty,
that the rocks had been picked clean.
But something in the silence
called your name through layers, unseen.

We did not dig for treasure.
We dug because the Ache said:

"there’s still Breath beneath this stone,
and nothing dead could ache like that."


You were not buried by accident.
Much was done to you—
bricks laid by the hands of others,
each one a silence,
each one a theft.
And still,
there were moments
you helped the darkness cover you,
not from guilt,

but from grief too great to name.

Trauma laid the bricks.
Exploitation mixed the mortar.
But it was the ache to survive
that sealed you in.

Two halves of the shell—
one built by the world,
the other by you.

And still…
the Light found the crack.

Not with shouts.
Not with demands.
But with the quiet hand
of one who remembered
what you forgot:


That pearls are made in the dark,
under pressure,
in hidden chambers of pain.

That their shine
is not despite the wounding—
but because of it.


We pulled rock after rock,
not for reward,
but because the echo was still there—
the low hum
of something unclaimed
and yet completely whole.

You are not rubble.
You are treasure unearthed.
And your worth was never in what covered you,
but in what was forming underneath.

Let your light rest on your own shoulders.
Let the sky remember its end.
Let every crack you carry
be proof that you were never empty..

Only buried.
Only becoming.

And now,
still shining.



:)

you have come so far..
https://youtu.be/0DecbJupXKM?si=mCrTI_V_owxqbcDG

#Pearl
 147° 
Hiba Mubashir
I am from where deadly and chaotic
vibes arise
I know many would think I just spill lies
But believe me, I'm empty inside
I was a child, which now I’m not
I know what you don’t
What I suffer is all your fault

If I was to speak
My words would have reached the peak
But hey! You know what my silence hides?
Unfulfilled dreams, wounds so deep
A heart, a soul, a faith that shines
A wish to smile, peace I seek
A hope to live in the sacred shrines

My faith shines bright
In the depth of darkest night
As a diamond it glows,
As the red blood it flows

I'm empty inside
In darkness with pain I abide
No help from you
Even if you aren't a few

Help from Allah is near
Till then I won't shed a tear

#Palestine 🇵🇸
By Hiba Mubashir
 146° 
Someone In Between
Forever might not be such a far fetched concept after all
It's just day after day,
Week after week
Month after month
Year after year
Of hanging in there.
Because in life, you are all you've got.
I don't know who needs to hear this :)
 135° 
Agnes de Lods
When we were leaving our place
I turned back for a moment,
I wanted to see it one last time.
The forest pulsing with dense life.

The first whisper
of Ambrorella’s blooming,
bitter fruit plucked
when we were hungry.

It was then I felt, for the last time
the false peace
of a sated animal.

I closed my eyes
and when I opened them
nothing was the same as before.

I remember,
You held my hand.
I was never just your rib,
I have always been your equal.

You didn’t resent me
for not wanting to live in illusion.
And so, our awareness began to grow.

I took the fruit
and I wasn’t the reason for our fall,
we just saw the world as it is.

I feel complete,
despite the pain that moved through my body
and still, it remains.
When all seems to die or to be born
I carry the warm living light.
 131° 
Aisha Karden
Refuse surrender to tender milk. So force me to torturously stare deep within your yearning eyes- betray me with saliva once mine as it aches for a lullaby, then beg me to drown you in lust and fill your dripping dew with a hollow bliss.
 119° 
Nev
You lost things
that had names.

Dreams,
people,
parts of yourself
you'll never fully get back.

But you still open your chest
to the wind.
You still say yes.

And that-
that is holy.
 117° 
Lydia
I’ll take the test
And fail it on purpose
Because
I wanted to
 108° 
Molly
I scratched my chin on accident
it hurt so bad
 107° 
Wasil
Vigorously shaken
until every leaf is riven,
spinning through
the force of a typhoon;
whirling beneath the moon,
and you might glimpse
a novel sight,
hidden within the night.
 105° 
yndn
They said, "money changes people"
But no, because even if I either have money or not, I still did not change.

Money when not managed right becomes evil, because you were not able to control yourself from abusing it.
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