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jeffrey conyers Jun 2017
What?
Have you lost?
Most you have stolen or manipulate to get.

What?
Wrong have been done to you.
Justice has been shown kinder to you.

Oh, you not better than any other race.
Don't get it twisted that you are.

But you have all the political connection to divert the laws to your advantage.
Similar to you changing the images of Christ and to some Santa.

You join all the hatred groups led by idiot males.
Some are bright but more dumb as a nail.
Especially when they spell Niger instead of the correct word.

But the truth stands in you not understanding this.

The races you hate will forever exist.
Learn and adapt to this.
Rexhep Morina Apr 2017
extensions to an emotion
grown like branches on a tree,
blooming towards beauty,
further reaching the sky,
touching the blue
with the tip of the flowers.
life, bursting out,
in one way or another.
endurance, the key
a way of living, so to speak
surviving the storm, or adapting to it.
giving the branches strength,
strength to withstand the worst,
only to be given another day
another day to bloom,
another day to grow,
to branch out, thicken and, burst out
into something unexplainable,
rather observable,
reaching out to hights
and depths, simultaneously.
most of the times, filling the notes is way more difficult than writing poems, but oh well, I don't like to leave blank spaces, it's just another opportunity to write something, enjoy.
H Dec 2018
tell me why its worth it...
because i can’t seem to believe that’s true
how is it possible to fill someone up with all your love on the verge of emptiness...
all for nothing?
why is it that im adapting to this?
like some sort of sequence
i shouldn’t have to feel this way so often
i shouldn’t be crying heavy tears full of frustration caused by mistreatment...
i pour my heart and soul into a mix to serve happiness
and i am given nothing
always nothing
i am deserving
my intentions are genuine
and my words are sincere
but i keep meeting people full of confusion and sadness that is contagious
a poison
i give them love and happiness...
but once their reality hits them
it hits me too
they feed off my positivity
and leave me starving
almost as if their tears drops fall into my life as specks of darkness
and they grow like plants...
but not like roses
more like poison ivy
-h.u
Martin Dove Dec 2018
I feel exposed.
my insides are crumpling up like a stricken peace of paper
it feels like something rotten is crawling from my bones to the skin.
is it my ego deflating, my confidence derailing?
No, it's just one of my depressive moods coming up to say hello
it wants to chat and is unwilling to go
like an unwelcome guest
a nuisance!
obscuring my attentions view
It's begging for notice
Does it have something useful to say?
Maybe I should listen
to the thought that cut so deep
I don’t know.
It could be just another random swing
but i think its more than that
Its my brain telling me i need to think
to do something different
to alter my ways
i need to continue evolving
changing and morphing
adapting the pattern
to fit what is needed.
...
think too much, think too deep
but i want to keep this flame -
to hurt me till i'm heeling
The old me has to die
a new one has to emerge
Birth is a painful process
as we both should already know.
Emily Dec 2018
I want to say being with you was like coming home, but that seems so over-done.
Despite the truth it holds.
I think maybe I’ll try and speak your language. Because being with you was homemade paint.
Mason jars lining shelves, oil and pigment and a palette of your own creation.
When you ran your fingers over my skin it wasn’t Cadmium red, no, it was more like, the setting of the sun after a hot summers day. Orange so deep it feels like you are going to fall into it. Not Permanent or Transparent. No, it was like a fire, warm and so, so bright. Like the world around me had gone up in flames and I was happy to burn with it.
Or when you laughed, the air lit up like a sunflower. Not Hansa or Nickel or Indian yellow. Think something between gold and the shade of a lemon. Honey, sweet and sticky.
And my heart twisted and turned inside my chest, adapting to the mix of colors, oil dripping into my veins.
When you smiled. God, when you smiled. The world seemed to converge. Nothing made sense. I was spinning in a circle in the middle of a carnival. Too much to process. Stained glass windows at noon, playing out across the floors of the church. Iridescent and never ending.
The only thing that brought me back was your brush hitting the canvas, your voice calling out to me, and then it was green, so much green, like a perfectly polished suburban yard and standing beneath a canopy of trees in August, looking up and up until the sun forces your gaze to turn, and the green depression glass that sits pretty on my mother’s bookshelf. I think of light dancing off an emerald ring, not Viridian or Olive or Sap. Nothing you can find in a crafts store. Nothing that can be manufactured. Only that which can be bended and built from your own mind and hands.
And then you were gone. Twice now you’ve left. And it is blue like I have never known. So dark it feels black if I dwell for too long. Richer than Idanthrone, not quite Prussian. Have you ever gone to the ocean at night, just before a storm hits the coast? Or, went up into the country, where the stars illuminate the world around you and the sky is spread out like a blanket above you? Not Cobalt or Cerulean. No, this blue is only something you can make. Something you’ve brought with you. With your sunflowers and your sunsets and your stained glass.
We talked about the way colors can change when they’re next to each other, next to something similar or vastly different. The way the depths can be altered, and just a little more oil can thin it out.
There is nothing to compare anymore.
Just blue. So blue I can’t breathe. So blue my fingers shake and my head aches.
The blue is okay when you’re there. When you’ve laid your palette out before me, when your canvas is full, and beautiful, and I can’t look away. But now, you’ve taken every other color with you, and left me with blue.
Not store bought or easily replaced.
Your blue. From your words and your touch and your voice.
I thought I saw you the other day, for just a moment, the world exploded around me. All the color I thought I’d never see again. A storm so rich with color, I could have gone blind.
But you’re still gone. And I’m still blue.
to the artist i loved and lost
How can we explain the abundance of talent?
So diverse yet never equal.
Spread out over billions of people.
Are we adapting to our environments?
Night after night,
Do we dream the same themes,
Forgetting their secret meanings?
Humans dig deep holes,
And then fill them to make stories.
Arlene Corwin Sep 2018
I'm on a roll.  Same day, two poems:

             There Is No One Method
Alia Jan 9
Its so crazy how different cultures are from each other but still you can find things that are similar. And adapting to a new place or environment like different comforts discomforts and conditions you have to get used to

Clothes and languages and hand movements and head movements ****** expressions food

So like this whole concept of countries and flying and how FAR everything is and how expensive and how there are so many people I miss but like they're so far away like there's always someone far away from me that I miss and just like trying to figure out where would be a good place for me and how to get there and ******* money.. GIVES ME SO MUCH ANXIETY
Something I wrote to a friend
If only, my problems would leave.

I feel so dead - so desperate for peace.

If only, I could spend the rest of my life asleep.

I feel more alive in my dreams.

I'm at a stage of constant instability, ever-swaying to the weather as the water does in the sea.

I'm swimming through moods and completely alternating perceptions like personalities, depending on who I'm with - I siphon from their energies.

Like the chameleon, shades adapting to an ever-altering song, I'm a radio blasting rap, pretending I knew, this was a jazz club, and quickly forgetting, this realization fades away as I go on as if I'm at a 'freestyle' venue,
handling this constant changing self - I'm replaced by a substitute.

It's a challenge to sing with an unsteady beat, a dance of the tongue that can't be unsung - a game of musical chairs but the seats are personalities, arranged in their own angles to see the room - each seat has a different view - identities that I pick up walking through a cemetery - each sits with a different way of acting that's been buried.

For each name engraved, I am living.

For each grave, I am a body.

For each - I speak demands
directly, without the need of middle man.

They multiply, and my thoughts become so disorganized ~

Each time my mind warps.

I realize,

I'm just a lost soul carrying around a corpse.

For each name engraved, I am living.

For each grave, I am a body.



By: Ashton Conor Amstutz
Sky has fallen on your head, Earth erupting has upended you into two, is it time for change yet?


Everyone knows the extinction's coming, racing towards US from our future,

Seen on the horizon, still, no talk of evolution, adapting to reality,

Not the worldly world of criminal insanity?  Non-republican caucasian

Newborns to men who are heterosexual are still neutered as newborns,

Mutilated as toddlers, kids, mass-*****, and every crime done against them

As kids and teens, yet the Roman Catholic Empire doesn't even acknowledge

Their inquisition against them, let alone slow it down, stop it.  How is

It that Pope Benedict (Arnold, the Rat...), the last inquisitor, hasn't

Been prosecuted in the ICC?  Just so you know, if "...we(e),..." don't

Uninstall RumputiN/vlad-the-impaler from the Blackhouse by 1-21-21, the

United **** of assassins is the new notsee Germany and since it's citizens

Haven't stopped it's Gov't, it must be destroyed at all costs, for life,

Humanity, the Earth, to even exist.  Is impeachment peachy keen now?

Do you feel like keeping it in the ground, abolishing fossil fuel use yet?
Great works, thanks; also, please: Sample letter: Hello.  Donald Trump is deliberately undermining the oversight powers of Congress and acting as if he is above the law. Yet, some House Democrats are still stalling on impeachment.  The Trump organized crime family isn't going to re-institutionalize organized crime as gov't (from the top down, "power corrupts, absolute power corrupts absolutely"), "...we(e),..." have already defeated that; impeachment is a necessary step- regardless of political effects that could be construed as negative.  Thanks for your attention.   reality
with every breath
we each are breathing
molecules from julius caesar,
of aristotle and every one of
our prophets, leaders, even
god for some of us, all those
molecules of carbon and oxygen
that have travelled through those
same lungs, too, molecules that
have travelled around through
epochs too numerous to be
easily counted; i like the
idea of it, how connected
we all really are on such
a fundamental level

ღ ღ ღ

just as history is the
memory of human beings,
true or false, right or wrong,
mother nature is the memory
of the entire earth, and the
carved meanders of this
little creek indicate
her patience and the
irresistible force of her
will; i seem to recognize
how alive in a way our
entire ecosystem is, each
part, each of us, are like
vital organs in her body,
valleys are her wrinkles,
as are all things that return
to dust; like a great sculptor,
she molds all things as God
intended for her, her chisels,
wind & water & sunshine,
exquisite tools that have
their own logic and cut,
her hammer is time

ღ ღ ღ

time flows by
at the exact same
rhythm of your water in
front of me, all these baby
ducks and goslings and a pair
of graceful swan and their cygnets...
they are so beautiful to watch, and
something almost magical happens
as i watch them for so long, and with
the baby fox popping their heads out
as if a game of whack a mole, or some
sort of complex, silent musical instrument
i somehow seem to start to think like
that which i am watching in awe of,
they get inside my head, or maybe
the other way around, and i feel
even more a part of nature as
they so much more obviously
are. one head of lettuce and i
can't think of a better investment,
as one brave mallard came right up
and ate a leaf out of my hand as
i sat my notebook down and acted
and watched before writing anything
for a change, this spot becoming like
a battery of sorts, and a place to go
that is quiet, and just secluded
enough that i know no one will
cross my path so i can be alone
with that which i am a part of
with the walls that block the
awareness of that crumbling so
quickly as i force myself back
to silent observer, the lettuce
all gratefully gobbled down.

ღ ღ ღ

yes, i had become a water fowl
for a few moments at least, my
spring creek being that flow of
time, with its currents and eddies
and whirlpools and rapids and all
other movements trace out our own
wrinkles, and memories, and the
current is as inevitable, as irresistible,
and understanding that simple obvious
concept, but feeling the living metaphor
lapping against my bare feet dangling
in the water with an eye out for leeches,
it makes it so real that it's a frustration
to not be able to describe it well, but
more gratitude than anything else.

ღ ღ ღ

the tree in my front yard that i cut
a big piece off, that strangely made
me cry to do, i counted the rings of
just that one huge section branching
out near the truck, 66, 67, 68 years,
rings etched by time just as it traces
my laugh lines and the deepening
furrows of my brow, and i like them.

ღ ღ ღ

i like not railing against my aging,
i like embracing it, even stuff like
basal joint arthritis, because in losing
a core area of competency, i had to
learn to play again from scratch and
switch to classical and writing songs
with new chords and fretting, no more
solos, just a slow rhythm and intricate
finger picking that made me realize
that i hadn't lost a thing, it has just
grown into something new, and when
i can't do this anymore, i'll switch over
to pure slide, i'm never going to stop
playing, and mixed metaphors and all
that, just how i grew to meet the limitations
of aging in this way, i wish to greet every
new season of life now in the same way,
loving that which i love, not burying any
talents, but adapting with grace, that's how
i want to age, like that tree branch, twisting
and contorting to get it's share of sunshine
on its leaves so naturally and effortlessly
and unconsciously, ring after ring, each layer
of sediment in the earth, as do ancient cites
rebuilding themselves layer upon layer
atop themselves like the rings of the tree, and
life just keeps passing itself on and on and on,
and i think about the veritable ocean of ink
and graphite i've used up with these thoughts
over the years, how many thing of great immensity
i borrow every day, before it all flows back to you.
“Come out of the circle of time And into the circle of love.”
                                                                                        ― Rumi

eric burdon & war - mother earth
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NjIqXfAvm1w
Bexis Aug 2018
We've fought for our place in the world.
They have tried to pry us apart.
Only for us to come back stronger.
The only thing that could pull us apart is us.

Remembering the days were we woke up next to each other.
Appreciating each other's bodies.
How different our bodies are.
How well they fit together.

The early years were rough, but we managed to stay.
Growing, learning adapting.
We finally found our stride.
Now we are rocketing to know how be to strong.
Together.
Bella Tanner Sep 2018
The forest is my escape from life,
I go there to breath in the air and get away from strife,
The trees of many shapes and sizes don’t argue, they don’t fight.
The coexistence in the forest leads me to believe that there is some light
In the world, where we people dry up everything they touch,
The animals may seem like discord, blood and too much.
But there is some peace in the conflict, some light in the dark.

I go to the forest to look at the shrubbery,
It may seem like just a few leaves attached to sticks as a way to appease
Our eyes in this black world, but there’s more to life than just colors and shapes.
The small cells in each leaf show signs of life, living in peace while we **** each other. Apes.
That’s what we are, creatures that only think of themselves, **** or be killed, selfish animals
But in a world where we are given so much hope and light, we choose the cannibals...

The air begins to feel a little thin in this world full of and grime,
Words are too much for people, emojis and expressions do the trick, turning into mimes.
People say that history repeats itself in many ways,
But in reality we fall through an endless cycle of forgetting what we’ve learned, days and days
Turn into months, turn into years, folding into decades, into centuries…
The forest learns after time, adapting to the problem at hand while we just make more enemies
If only we could learn from the forest, not the ocean.
We drown in the blood that drips from our friends and families that we choose to ****.

I still ignore these problems, back and forth in my mind but nothing comes out of these thoughts,
Overthinking, too much blinking, I feel like selfish ambition is taking my vision,
Maybe one day I’ll unravel all of these useless knots
My brain making a final decision,
But for now, I’ll admire the beauty in the forest and stare at the detailed bark.
Carl Webb II Dec 2018
no longer adapting to the world
and feeling trapped inside this person.
figure me as what I am,
but what they see
is someone hurting.
silly me,
it's so discerning:
seeing me
in front of curtains.
feeling trapped inside this person.
open windows.
I am hurting.

jump my tears away.
(I'll jump my fears away)

in hopes of learning.
no love here for they
will not adhere;
will just add fear to play.
but, no place here today.
so, I just . . . mm . . .
so, I'm just here to stay . . .
Zuleyma May 2
You remind me of dysfunctional traits
Covered in smiles and charm
Adapting to your environment to blend in
Meanwhile coated with deeply rooted trauma
Blind of notice to the eyes of those on auto pilot

— The End —