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Laura Jane Apr 2015
I am with you
here in this place
scanning with cool
and radiant eyes
Causing silver haired women
to pantomime
The Thing Thats Wrong With Us:
their heads shake
and their thumbs waggle in the air
like worms.

Our thumbs irk them,
patience wearing
thin as their lips.
They are so sad for us,
for our murderous stupidity.
They know
what is wrong:

because our empty carcasses
litter their living rooms
the busses they ride
the classes they teach
in the seats where we left them.

Heidegger said
that attention creates access to the world,
And we've crept away to the edge
dangling our attentions over the inviting precipice
like the sorcerer's apprentice
of how it all takes place
but certain
of it’s awesome power.
The well overflows
and we are swept away
as the women look on
marc rios Nov 2018
Follow me!
my world
That is
******>not full
i wrote
my feelings
and honest opinions
but i need
me to
deliver my
are somehow
i say
i am
only writing
this to
get some
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.
PoetiKitty Dec 2018
She's very simple, yet complicated.

She knows the world
but get surprised of million things:
a mature woman,
a baby girl.

She hath wild nature, rebellious too
despising roses,
romantic poses
but she should not.

She's storm and tempest
she's sturm und drang,
darkly romantic
and dandy decadent.

She hath brave spirit,
her kind of  brave,
but she get scared
like any girl.

She can be feisty.
her soul is curious
she'd like to hide it
but can't contain it.

She's hungry of knowledge.
She's easily bored
yet never bored.

She needs to care, to worry too,
she needs mind cares
silent attentions,
she'll never say it, never admit.
She used to say she needed no one,

Stubborn she is.
She seeks the challenges
to prove her wrong
to test herself

Obsessed with manners.
She longs for beauty
The inside one, that creates smiles.

She is a girl,
she might be kitty disliking kitties.

She is this crazy
She is this me
Mr Morningstar Nov 2018
At first it was the eyes,
You stared too deeply, and saw who I really was.
Next was the conversation,
You let me in, more than you had planned by far, but you were no match for my silver-tongue.
And lastly the kiss,
Our lips touched and it sealed our fate, the energy travelled from our lips, and reverberated throughout our bodies,
I tensed and pulled you closer,
The most terrifying thought on my mind was an end to this moment,
I clung to it in false hope.
Soon I realized it was not I who captured you, but you who captured me. I was a monster in your cage, an animal domesticated for your pleasure.
But as days went by my loyalty and trust for you grew.
Much like the animal who is cared for and loved.
But like puppy who isn't so cute anymore your attentions faded, I was losing you, this reality burned itself into my mind, creating a chaos, worthy of its own war.
And so I fought,
I fought with my anger,
I fought with my self esteem
I fought with my depression, and anxiety, my loneliness, and my sorrow.
I shed tears for your exodus, as I began the familiar routine of picking myself back up, only to put myself back together, yet again.
I lay here at night sometimes, thinking about you, wondering if you think about me.
If sometimes you miss my arms wrapped around you, as much as I do.
If you try to remember the sound of my voice saying I love you as much as I do
Or if you miss the feeling of my lips pressed against yours in a physical declaration that bellows I AM YOURS!!
But then I ask myself, despite the obvious happiness we provided for each other, what good would have come from this.
I guess some things are better left unknown.

-Vaun Niklaus Christiansen.
marc rios Jan 10
I know in fact this is never wrong
im not confused nor confounded
because i know in my very core
this is whats right
i cannot be wrong and i should not say its wrong
i need to fight this
to prove that its worthy of conflictions

You dare to beat without understanding,
for what lies beyond is'nt something reassuring
you dare to speak for you could negligent,
cause what may come after needs solving with intelligent
you tick for the forbidden
but yet you soar like it ain't burden

But i need to feel love for thats what we need
                                       We all need love but that aint the one kind
I want to be caressed by an angel
                                        You aint getting one lets cut it loose
Beautiful future to attend for me
                                         Attend my lessons you dont need attentions
Hope is faded for i am conquered
                                          Atlast! Atlast! fly free now like a bird
         From now on these sights will not be blinded by the light
                                         Cloud 9 has fallen
                                         Hope is fading
                      But maybe atleast judgment isn't rising?
The sacrifice must be made
the blood spilled to mark the day
lest the gods both good and bad
feel unwanted by mere man

deities remain steadfast
when attention turns to them
by the edge of cutting knife
or the coin from the purse

a gentle shower is not enough
be it crimson or made of gold
when attentions must surely flow
stating purpose from the soul

lives laid down in consequence
by believers or the lost
the latter being enemies
now made worthy in their ends

all this done in name of greed
for squalid treasures near at hand
enough to fill a million chests
these are the boon of all transgress

so ask for blessings both low and high
knowing gods have their price
the sacrifice made today
will coat the hands of deity.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190121.
The poem “The Sacrifice” was inspired by events in the book “The Stand” by Steven King.   Glen Bateman, Ralph Brentner, and Larry Underwood are all killed in the last portion of the book.  Obstinately their deaths create the scenario that kills off the main bad guy.  A character later states that God wants sacrifices, and because of this, his hands are quite ******.  Did God really need to **** off these likable characters as a sacrifice, and if he didn’t get his gallons of blood, would the bad guy have won?  Who knows.

— The End —