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Natalie Jane Jul 2013
A LETTER FOR YOU (AND, OF COURSE, FOR ME, TOO):
It smells like my grandmother's house in here.
Like lazy Saturdays, of dripping sweat, of climbing trees, of building Lincoln Log houses for ants or Deathstars of Legos but I spread my legs and that smell of--regret is not the word, nor is shame--I feel neither--but of came, of stale, cold air and stiff comforters on top a bed at the Best Western--A living proof of how you've changed. After you finish and inhale and burst your exhausted, satisfied breath, I sweetly kiss you--your neck, your jawline, your cheeks, your forehead, your eyelids. You hold us in and sleep as if a few drinks are enough to forgive. I tell you to slow down because you owe me about 5 years to make up for lost time. You slip your tongue down as if I had not broken your heart. But a man learns, and that's our biggest difference--man and woman, you and I--you've grown cold and moved on to content loneliness and betterness than to give a girl who's hurt you a second chance.
Me--I've grown to let the warmth run over you, like a hot glass of water from a motel room sink after an ******. Past content, loneliness and betterness than to obsess about a boy grown sour from a girl too hurt to not want to take back the past.
We check in for the night to "make up for lost time."
We check out.
What's a girl to do?
Other than watch you sleep so still like you used to next to me, even with still blankets, it's cold. Hold me?
We walk out to our cars on a hot, departing Fourth of July.
I coax you into closing your lips over mine before you leave, but the key is already turned in. We already ate our free breakfast, ******, scratched, bruised.
You've already checked out, so
what's a girl to do now?
What's a girl to do?
AND
I cannot forget Whitman's words: "We were together, I forget the rest."
AND
Vonnegut's epitaph: "Everything was beautiful and nothing hurt."
AND
"Every time I kiss you
After a long separation
I feel
I am putting a hurried love letter
In a red mailbox"

AND
I feel like a one night stanza written by you who is more beautiful and unforgiving than words on a page
AND*
I am not drinking quickly enough--or enough, despite the speed
AND
Bukowski's poem:
year-worn
weary to the bone,
dancing in the dark with the
dark,
the Suicide Kid gone
gray.
Ah! the swift summers
over and gone
forever!
Is that death
stalking me
now?
No, it's only my cat,
this
time
AND I DIGRESS BECAUSE
my dear sweet Ambien Walrus has abandoned me in reality among the living. So blissful breaks, only a stomach churning in the minutes passing of a long night.
No worries, Mr. Walrus. I'd abandon me too. Only drinking, imagined aliens, crying and words here--words to document your blessed coming and mournful going into the wee hours of the unforgiving days. There is no glory in the mornings. I watch for you as I watch the hours pass. No bliss in the minutes stretched over the midnight break. Only words, no blessing, no grace, to pass the heavy nagging of the night. Will I see you again?
"We were together, I forget the rest."
What's a girl to do?
AND
oh yeah, drink more. Fingers crossed.
What more can a girl do, really?
OH
take another drink before the liquor runs out.
AND DRAW UPON MISTAKES PAST
I know this letter is getting out of hand
BUT
hear me out for all the words you never had to hear. I promise I'll throw in a joke somewhere.
AND
I sneak outside for a cigarette and watch an armadillo rummage closer to me while I search for another poem to make me feel better, another poem for this letter to you I will never send but maybe, if the situation's right, to read to you on some drunken night. I promised you a joke, but now, I giggle at my own feelings. Maybe you will too. I hope you laugh too--At my hands so aching, at my torn apart ******, at my silly feelings and words to help me forget a reminiscing night of you pushing my hair from my face so you can see my eyes when I purse my lips down below.
SO
here's your joke, I suppose.
This one's on me.
IN CONCLUSION
"At 23, the best of my life is over and its bitters double...I am sick at heart...I have outlived all my appetites and most of my vanities."
Byron knew the futility of joy in little things. In my quest to overcome a trivial ache, I have re-imagined a familiar road to uncertainty, instability, and insanity.
How great thou art!
Give me sleep and less slipping into this place of comfortable communion with the illnesses of my mind.
Of the body of Christ.
Amen.
Lord, I am not worthy to receive you, but only say the words and I shall be* sane.
Like Lazarus from the grave:
"This is not what I meant, at all."
"That is not it, at all."

God bless the blue.
What else is a girl to do?
BECAUSE
From the wards, I smell the mourned words of a place that I called home--this imaginary place that we must reinvent ourselves. Maybe mine is on Corporate Woods Drive, and all this--this is just a yellow brick road with little munchkins sweetly singing, follow it back home. I'll skip in a pretty dress with my friends and my babies to smell the grey walls and be asked of safety. I get lost every once in awhile but the Cheshire Cat asks, "where do you want to go?"
"I want to go home," I answer.
"Then," says the cat, "it doesn't matter."
IN OTHER WORDS
"I'm afraid I can't explain myself, sir. Because I am not myself, you see?"
"I wonder if I've been changed in the night? Let me think: Was I the same when I got up this morning? I almost think I can remember feeling a little different. But if I'm not the same, the next question is, 'Who in the world am I?' Ah! that's the great puzzle!"
SINCERELY YOURS (AND MINE, TOO)
Natalie
Infamous one Nov 2013
My heart wants to settle and be free
Always focused on making money
Id like to make it have more then enough
My heart hit the crossroads
I'm not easy to love but found someone who appreciates me
Its hard to love and grow together
Seperate lives become one
It feels right her flaws become yours
The problems we solve together
Be with me stop worrying about the ex
Most girls I say who's next
I stress when we are apart
Things are right when we are together
Lifes not bad but id like to make it better for us
Atypnoc Dec 2016
It's like I've died
And I'm trapped in a museum

Mister lonely
Travis Dixon Sep 2012
understand
make it stand
let it in
grasp it tight
find the heart of the light
give it water for more
hear it beat and sweet
release the flow throughout
seeping doubt
squelched in blackened drought
listened under moonlit ponds
broken by lingering clouds
shrinking
growing
morphing
exploding shrapnel hits
the streets in domino lines of
clings, clanks
against pavement
green with feeling
tentacles outstretched
grabbing downpour
more griping
a wiping the slate clean
a new approach to a one way road
sweeping away the swept under
forgotten
the last day, a cleansing
sweaters donned for greater betterness
less impressiveness, bored aggressiveness
regressing
to under intelligence, minor importance
broken vases line the halls
flowers gasp soaking last remains
crying death
its toll rising infinite forms
everywhere
everyday
every
second
this moment
emptiness
misery’s hand clenched tight
suffocating life, energy bound
and wound so small and tight
bound to explode any moment
epiphany epiphany
epiphany
ephemeral projected instance
prism hemmed answers
nullifying yourself
Nathan Pival Dec 2014
(This is a poem I wrote with a friend.  Her lines are capitalized.)

THREE-LEGGED CHAIR
From start to finish
Never diminish
I ALWAYS TRY
I GIVE MY PLENTIEST
This I say
Sometimes I follow thru
That's me
What about you?
I DO WHAT I CAN
IS THAT ENOUGH?
SOMETIMES I WONDER
THOUGHTS...YEAH THEY'RE TOUGH
Don't forget to breathe
It's an always
And most underappreciated need
When everything seems wrong
Take time
To take time
To see the best
The pure
The beauty
Of being good
No one can be you
But you
WHEN TRYING ISN'T ENOUGH
WHAT DO YOU DO?
NOTHING IS GOOD ENOUGH
SHOULDN'T THAT BE A CLUE?
I SHOULD GET ONE
YEAH I KNOW
An ever attempt
At bettering reality
A step is a step
An attempt at betterness
To sate destruction
Never let it listen
To *******
Never give up
Ever
WE HAVEN'T
WE WON'T
WE CAN'T
WE HAVE HOPE
Don't be a dope
Always and forever
More than a chance
Sometimes
A dance
With possibility
Forever
Reality
LOOKING THRU THE WINDOW
STARING AT THE TV
ANYTHING I CAN
TO ESCAPE REALITY
I LIVE AND BREATHE
I TRY MY BEST
An attempt gives you strength
Because it's more than the rest
WORDS OF WISDOM
WORDS OF TRUTH
Actions
See what is being said
SOMETIMES IT'S THAT
THAT HURTS
EVERYONE DOESN'T NEED TO KNOW
ALL OF YOUR THOUGHTS
But if you keep the hurt to yourself
That's your fault
SOMETIMES TRUTH HURTS
THIS I KNOW
I'M AN ADULT
WE ALL HAVE ROOM TO GROW
No matter how much
We know
Or have learned
Stand up
To be loved
Or burned
IT TAKES HEART
TO HAVE THAT DONE
IT TAKES TIME
WE'RE ONLY ONE
PERSON
THAT IS
WE'RE NOT THE SAME
WE ALL FEEL DIFFERENT
WE ALL HATE PAIN
WE'RE ONLY HUMAN
WE ALL BLEED THE SAME
SOMETIMES LIFE *****
I WONDER
WHERE'S THE GAIN?
Humanity has survived
Up to this point
With or without a joint
Keep trying
Never lying
Breathe it
Live it
NEVER A LIAR
I KEEP MY WORD
IT'S NEVER BOUNCY
NOTHING LIKE A CHEESE CURD
Yeah, nerd
A bottle in a brown bag
Never is an
End
Until this one
How many times
Saying
Never again?
YOU WISH THIS WAS
THE ONE TO BE DONE
IT'S FUNNY
SO I'M NOT READY
TO STOP
THE CLOCK
THIS POEM
IS GOOD
SON
DON'T HATE
APPRECIATE
WE'RE SITTING HERE
PLAYING A GAME
Somebody won
Somebody lost
Hello and Goodbye
Always lost
Jaded1 Nov 2016
twenty one pilots
aren't you forgetting something?
the twenty second second
second from the one
one you forgot

the twenty second ammend-ment
meant a lot
to the twenty second pilot
twenty two pilots doesn't sound about as right though

stuck in the shadows
waters so shallow
swallow the bitterness
betterness isn't a word apparently
twenty second pilot take a taxi cab
s s f w s Nov 2017
For the sake of betterness or quickness,
The life is all about developing own customized extensions or plugins .
Better sitted pees
Better stand-up pees
Better view
Better trails
Better quality
Better quantity
Better pace
Better Understanding
Better likability
Better knowledge
Better green
Better pleasure
Better writes
Better disorientation
Better philosophy
Better stimulation
Better cycles
Better science
Better calculus
Better reads
Better rain
Better gulps
Better art
Better calendars
Better wilderness
Better awakening
Better flirting
Better cooking
Better carpentry
Better tactics
Better silence
Better touch
Better light
Better technology
Better sunsign
Better blue ticks
Better mixing
Better chaos
Better mutation
Better round-tables
Better deals
Better excretion
Better burial
Better fertilization
Better moon
Better sun
Better fun

And It rhymed , thereby set for n number possibilities.
And realising there will be no plugin for Better love than one which happened 42 years ago & ultimately the most **** thing is not between legs but between the ears.
Confession line: Omitted better hi and better ciao for the best results.
REAL Feb 2013
Am gone
am far away
this night
this strange feeling
crawling in my brain

another nibbled finger nail
another nibbled memory
this night
this strange feeling
making my heart pound

a cold night
a cold stare
i walk away
in the darkness of the white snow
oh, this night
oh, this feel

another summer night
spent by the fire
another summer night
spent by the fire alone
this night
this feel

i found myself digging a hole
in my wall
i found myself troubled by the moon
why does it shine on me
this night
this night

one morning
on a summer morning
i took a shower
boy, did i feel...
that feel
that feel
that feel of betterness
and bitterness drained away
down the gunky drain

on a summers afternoon
i took a walk
a walk in the field
on the painted green grass
there she sat
oh, this feel
oh, this feel
this feel of **alive
Dani Cunningham Jun 2011
Once I possessed vibrancy
I embodied light
I lit the world anew with color
bending the spectrum
With wit, a queen of metaphor,
With all the warmth a world could stand

Once I held captive
the eyes of everyone I passed
My hips transformed faces
to Christmas lights strung together
aglow in my presence, blinking contentment
I did all the rising a person could do
I penetrated people in new ways daily

Once I was vague with beauty
It just swelled up inside of me
In ways I couldn’t define
And my fingers typed it out
And my mouth spat it into the earth
And trees would grow birthing fruit
Blessed with youth

Once I was a woman of meaning
With aspiration
with depth of a soul (I thought it was my birthright)
that could split atoms into betterness
zapped to life minus the bitterness

Once I meant more to me
And thought ovens were for baking
Lived separate from isolation
Once I didn’t walk, I floated
And you could read it off the page
And if you read it, you got me instantly and we were one

Once I could separate pleasure and pain
I thought college was a place of learning
Love was a possibility
And when I read Vonnegut I thought he was beautifully dark
And not beautifully honest.

Once I could figure out a way to end this poem
With grace, with punctuation
And elegance
Without rambling on
About who I used to be.

Once I was powerful
Now I just am.
Ellie Belanger Nov 2016
Origin of language
It's my dream to understand
Why and how
And I think it was
And it is
The human need for individuality
Betterness
To be at the top of the hierarchy
Which has sparked the vast expanse
Of spoken and written language,
The cheap signal communication style
So characteristic of human beings
Has everything to do with the need
To control and create
But the joke, ultimately,
May be on us
For when you create less than what you destroy,
You cease to be the creator of your own destiny,
And become instead the destroyer of your own fate.
Listen to the whispers of dead language
Which creep through your DNA
And understand.
Salmabanu Hatim Aug 2018
Who is a real man?
A man with a hard rock body,
Can hold his liquor without puking,
Has many ****** encounters,
Lots of money,
Wins many fights,
Muscular with ten packs.
No!
A real man  seeks knowledge for himself and his family's betterness,
He is focused,
Stays away from glitz and glamour.
He is gentle but firm,
Does not holler to get his point,
Is not a punk.
He is a family man,
Makes time for his family,
Brings up his children to be upright human beings.
Keeps his promises,
He is trustworthy,
Does not break deals,
Pays his debts,
Is upfront and honest.
Respects all women,
Doesn't leer with lust at women,
Stays faithful to his wife,
Treats women with respect.
Keeps his house in order,
He does chores around the house,
Helps with dishes,laundry and ironing,
Cooks sometimes.
Pays his bills on time
Handles his own money,
Doesn't go looking for hangouts,
Or depend on his wife or parents.
Works his tail to earn a decent income,
Budgets his money and saves,
Gives to charity and good causes.
Does not whine or complain,
Solves his own problems,
In my opinion that's a real man.
Part of me would like to go back
and delete
all the pain
and suffering
hastily transcribed
by someone looking
for that real betterness;
But I'll polish it
and let it sit here. Shh,

It's OK
to be in the past
for a time but, what's past
should remain; makes me feel unsafe
when things creep into the present's domain,
Things to make me heave and sigh.
I rest on this chair, in the glib darkness, and
hear the city breeze
of automobiles' afar off accelerations
become those comforting rustles
that carry through the wind.
The dusk sky has dipped.
I'm left wondering
after my travels this weekend.
Ellie Belanger Feb 2017
I know your heart,
Only if it is like mine.
And if it is I know your hurt.
I know you hurt for others.
I know you hurt for things untouchable
But that can be felt by all.
You yearn for betterness.
Know of its existence by the dance inside your bones
And the song inside your soul.
And this world is a bad world
For the ones that feel
And think the way we do.
But it isn't time for hatred,
Because hatred has no room for goodness.
Remain vigilant not only in thought
But in action
Love is not the act of ignoring violence,
Bigotry, sexism, war
Love is the act of overcoming.
We shall overcome.
Gave in to the itch, looking for that real betterness.
I'm spinning, loud clothes, quiet figure,
Burnished copper chain on my chest,
The wry smile of a free animal who knows it's time

to mix some skiddy-up juice: Sea Dog Jamaican ***;
Smirnoff *****, Berliner Luft, peppermint tea;
Stroh '40' Austrian ***, apple & ginger;
Eventually it fades, I feel those
tendrils drag me back
into the sways, the throes.
The only thing to outrun them
is music. It is good to travel, to get away.

Being home, perspective etches a contrast
between lives, and I feel what destroys me,
My past chaste me, but I always had an escape plan.
Shall I reinvent myself again?
I arrived with purpose
In the irony of no smiles
My captured soul had been traded
For the one and only
The love for purity.
Calling impatience an obstacle
My presence signified readiness,
In the tumour of absolute courage
No weapons admitted for transquility
Mastered for ability while peeping for stability
Standing in reality amidst probability
In a calamity of visibility far the sight of vayage in plan
Farewell to my beloved losses, one knee bow to star of focus.
Nay i see the darkness as naked as smoke hole
Trapping souls of beloved hanging nominees of betterness.
I stay besides their lies
But in love of the unseen solidality
Salmabanu Hatim May 2022
A mother is simply a mum,
Good or bad,
Black or white,
Her heart is full of motherhood,
Nobody can take her place or weigh more in value,
She understands our deepest feelings.
She shouts, nags and makes us do chores,
And sometimes even smacks us,
But all for our betterness,
The whole world will stop worrying about us,
But not mother.
Although she may not have time to dole up,
For us she is still beautiful.
Some leave their mothers alone to fend for themselves,
Or at Old People's Home,
Mothers become a burden,
But remember a mother's prayer can change your destiny,
And Allah has placed the doors to Heaven under her feet.
8/5/2022
CC Aug 2019
Hi, I'm sorry
That I can't be more
Hi, I'm pretty sure you're more
I'm not so simple
I'm not so grand
I'm never going to stand
I just feel like
I have been pushed around
On my wheelchair
Called medicine
I haven't had much to wear
But the same skirt
Since I had revisions
So take my little strappy dress
And sandals that go with it
And place it on your bed to rest
Towards where I feel
The betterness
Down in the dungeon is where I am
Well known by many appreciated by few
But that doesn't matter

They made the promise
So they must fulfill their pledge
Is this how you can repay me
With soar wounds and weeks out of the sight of light
Will I see the betterness of life or face bitter living

They come and gather around me like I am a sacrifice to make
Though I lay down onto this cold ground my crime is not known to me
It was a good deal to them whilst my dreams of payment were shattered
What can I claim only my freedom
It's been days and my tears got exhausted and my way back to life lays on a line
Me holding knowledge of what kind they are threatens their living
At the end of the road in the middle of no where
Uncertainties crowned over my head
Sounds like I am gone soon anytime any moment

— The End —