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Michelle Mar 2015
All around me, I see endless fear.
Fear of heights, sure, fear of scuttling things
Fear of darkness, fear of bites
Fear of brightness, fear of fights.
This is the fear we can display
Because it’s little, simple, understandable.
But the fear I really fear
That we all let consume us
Is deeper,
Darker,
Cold.
It’s the fear of friendship, fear of love,
Fear of what’s ahead of us
But even more of what’s behind us
Fear to see what’s really beyond
The faces we all fake.
Fear of the unknowable
Fear of what we know
Fear of speaking out or up or for
Fear of conforming to something more
Fear to test the limits
Fear to taste the truth
Fear of what’s uncomfortable
Rather than the deception of comfort
Fear of what to do
Fear of striving for perfection
When perfection’s so unattainable.
Fear of to leave what has been known
Fear of what has been done
Fear to see past fabrication,
Fear to show the truth.
I’m talking fear of emotion
Or fear of not feeling enough
Fear of silence, but worse,
The fear of candid words.
Fear to look someone in the eye
And say, “I know you,
And I care for you.”
Fear to let someone see the darkness that comes with your light
Fear of rebelling though it’s time someone did
Fear of doing what you want and know
Because of what someone told you you should
Fear of being who you are
Because every day everyone is telling you
What to do and who to be
And what is acceptable
And what is not.
I’m talking fear of having an opinion
Because someone will shoot it down
Fear of defense or service or selflessness
Because someone won’t approve.
Fear to accept because of fear of acceptance
Fear to truly love someone
Because it’s risky,
And you never know
What someone else really feels.
I cry for the fear of
Every person who can’t be
Who they are and who can’t
Let people see them in their entirety
Because after all everyone urges
And persuades and demands and values
And idolizes and expects,
You don’t even know yourself,
Because you've been too busy
With trying to be so many different
“Someone Else"s.

I ache for this relentless fear.
I mourn the stagnancy of the condition
Of the human soul who is so afraid
To let go of fear
And BE somebody,
To do something or say something, or simply believe,
That the only thing they truly trust
Is the familiarity
Of fear itself.
That’s why fear is frightening
That’s why we should be afraid of fear
Because it stops us, cages us,
Bars us behind the façade we display
And muffles the words of our heart.

I see these things and wonder
Why can’t they change?
Why can’t this need to fear be erased
From the human condition?
And I realize it’s because everyone
Is afraid.

And I’m so afraid too.
Hello. I'm back again! This was a poem I did for a poetry slam contest at my school. It's intentionally rough and raw. It does little justice to the art of slam poetry, but spoken the way I did, it was sure relieving to get it off my chest. :)
Poetically QUEEN Dec 2014
I adore you
Not as a collector idolizes what's his to keep

You're beautiful
the cusp of your hills
leading to a shallow sink hole
just before the meadows

You're perfect
The circular masses
surrounded by pure white sand
Even when it rains
emotions gleam flawlessly

You're joy
Hide poorly your white city
Covered by soft rose gardens
That part
In a way that evokes happiness
Within me

I adore you
Not the way a collector
Idolizes what isn't his to keep
But as

A traveler...
Lost in another land

...finds himself.
Andrew Rueter Oct 2017
I'm on the run
And not for fun
The police are chasing
My heart is racing
When my life is at stake
My morality I'll break

The police release the hounds
I can hear their deadly sounds
They want to maim me
I want to stay me
I decide to fight the charging canines
Because I just snorted a ******* line
My judgement loses length
To my influx of strength
I break the dogs' legs
Until they beg
That's not enough
Sorry Scruff
The steel gun I fire
A furry cop retired

The police attack me
For defending myself
They refuse to see
The danger to my health
They chose to use crazy canines
So I feel the fault isn't mine
That doesn't change their decision
For me to die slowly in prison
I am in the teeth of the government
Much to my human wonderment
This is the way I'll spend the rest of my life
For the decisions I made at the end of a knife

The irony is cops **** dogs all the time
Yet they obstruct their vision of the line
Where it ceases to be man versus society
And becomes man versus nature
When a man is in peril
He must turn feral
But in a country that blindly idolizes aggression
The police don't acknowledge this discretion
They dig their teeth into our skin
While draining us financially
The only way we'll ever win
Is if things change substantially
Sadism fervently fuels the flames of conflict
With an exasperated public sick of being kicked
Cruelty is what they witness
To lose their mental fitness
How can they protect their babies
When the police have rabies?
The police relationship with the effected public will never shift
When there's a Cereberus between them maintaining the rift
Andrew Rueter Nov 2017
I'm a fan of Vontaze Burfict
Though he may not be perfect
For he gives players concussions
To continue the daily discussions
Of the power of his percussion
To receive a hall of fame induction
That is where his value is derived
So what do these penalties imply?
That the referees have a preconceived notion of him
And are preemptively looking to treat him grim
Which gives his team a lesser chance to win
Which makes the biased referees grin

We are a country that idolizes quarterbacks
Every other position we're quick to attack
We only care about who has the ball
And laughing at others when they fall
We worship that which is shiny
And view everything else as grimy
Quarterbacks become celebrities incredulously
While everyone else is treated impetuously

The NFL is like America
Politics makes it harder to watch
The Patriots are boring and plain
They win constantly
The Bengals are entertaining and rough around the edges
They show promise and potential that is never realized
In a nation
Of provocation
I'd rather proudly call myself a bengal
I know that seems an idealistic angle
But Cincinnati provides no coziness or protection
You must always avoid discriminate detection
Of those that call themselves patriots
That drive blue and white chariots
And penalize players unnecessarily
For African Americanning

We really fumbled the ball
Because of the ref's call
That treats us unequally
How they have fun evilly
They can arbitrarily treat whoever however
But a concussion will make them less clever
Michael Pick Apr 2014
We, the children of a system that awards you simple papers
That state 'he/she has achieved what we deem quality'
As we are all judged and graded in exactly the same way
Because they promote individuality unless it's intelligence

'We all learn differently, and at different paces'
Is an often preached sermon of our progenitors these days
Yet I know more about synonyms for ancestry and parents
Than how to survive once our papers begin to mean nothing

So here I'd like you to tell me what is considered knowledge
And I'd ask of the older generations to insert customary wisdom
Because more adults have spat quotes to me like gospel
Than tought me what I really need to know and value

I've got a track record spanning back almost two decades
Of being sorry for just being myself at all times
So I think my teachers should be proud of themselves
To know that the things they preach to me really get through

You see, homework and exams mean almost nothing
To those who need to really think on their feet
Because this same system idolizes the memory
Mistaking it for a wealth of rawest knowledge

So I love it when they say school is too easy on kids now
Rewarding losing and not promoting any ambition
Because I've been berated for attaining success at any level
Due to grades that define me not successful enough
shakila Jun 2018
Whose Anxiety is that? I think I know
Its owner is quiet sad though.
It really is a tale of woe
I watch her frown, I cry hello.

She gives her anxiety a shake
and sobs until the tears make
The only other sounds the break
the break of distant waves crashing and birds awake.

The anxiety is scary a shaking scary and deep.
But she has promises to keep
until then her mind shall not let her sleep
she lies in bed in ducts that weep.

She rises from her bitter bed
with thoughts of sadness in her head
she idolizes being dead
facing the day with never ending dread.
Kitbag of Words Feb 2014
.

(Sippy cups are for toddlers, designed to let them sip but a little sip at a time, and when it falls, the disaster is lessened.)

totally by accident is this dedicated to TL Sipple, whose introspection offers comfort to more than many.

~~~~~~~~~
who among us has not begun the
journey's poetic, by first examining the
mirror that reflects organs internal,
flipping the reversible glass over,
for all you exposed,
it's the curse, the birthing natural,

of the first poem

all your life, streams bustling, streams drying, drought dying,
leaves windy flying up, but final poisoned by gravity,
come to rest and crunched under your footfalls,
but of this did you write, scrivened or scribed?
no

our first child is of our *****, where real borning does occur.

the rest too, but now, and soon thereafter,
put aside the me, and write of he and she,
the first love, always the second child,
for this the nature of the soul and ermine robe,
you elected, when you first self-selected

I am a poet, therefore I hit send,

and the diecast, is the first of many hot rods
piercing, invading, calling out to you,
poet,
"set me free, set me free"

then when walking in September,
the leaves un-glistening, cracking and *****
like an old person who cannot care for them self

then you lift your pen, point to the sky or to the earth,
no matter which, for both are loco parents in loco,
and the truest hardest journey begins,
looking outside in, with eyes colored by
global truths

then and only then the real journey begins,
a differing agony to be learned,
to see as others see,
to write as others have before you and me,
and in doing so, this testing travail,
will earn you, could earn you, a time grade of
pass/fail

you are the only judge in this show,
the only contestant,
what grade will you assign yourself,
what standards will you set,
until you ask,
who are the poets time idolizes?


american idol, throw away your sippy cup, and drink from the river, from the sea, drink deep, until sated,
then begin your foolishness
readied, all over again
poet to please invisible gods,
that *all can see
Max Evans Apr 2013
Goodnight.
Sleep well.
I love you so much.
See you in the morning.

The house quiet and dark.
We break from our hug and walk to our rooms quietly.
The only sounds are my footsteps and the news going in Dads room.
Just another night.

Earlier that day,
I saw you cry.
I saw your upper lip shake like the ground when mountains fall over.
I saw tears rush down your face and into riverbeds and onto your lap.
I watch you turn the other way so I don’t see you as weak.

The man I have known to be the heatless ******* is the person who needs heart the most.
He needs my heart.
His daughters heart.
His girlfriends heart.
His heart is an endless pit of pain and guilt
but he keeps a firm smile on his face.

He breaks down like the rest of us.
He gets depressed too.
Hell, with what he is going through I don’t know what I would do.

But this man goes to bed every night hoping to see his daughters beautiful face
Hear his sons voice over the acoustic guitar
and the ******* chickadee’s waking him up at 6:30 every morning.

He goes to bed in tears.
Worried,
His daughter’s depression has gotten worse.
His son feels.. abandoned.
His girlfriend overwhelmed.

His heart is black from the ashes of bombs being dropped on him almost every day.
His hands red from slapping destiny in the face and taking his own road in life.
His wedding ring that he still wears because he knows how much it means.

His son,
Worries constantly about him.
He worries that for once more his happiness will be stripped from him like white paint on an old wall.
Painted over and over and stripped only to get a new coat of paint.
The walls are getting tired of this ******* and just want to be left alone.

He worries that one day he won’t be the same.
He worries that sickness will drive him over the wall and into a land he doesn’t want to see.
His father is a strong man.
But he sees the worst things that could happen.
He is breaking down.

Father goes to bed but stays awake throughout the night
Hoping that she hasn’t left him.
Hoping that she isn’t sick.
Hoping that his son is happier than ever.
Happy that he gets to see his daughter.

Truth is,
His son idolizes his father.
He is a true hero.
A decorated veteran in the war called life
and his battle wounds are crippling.
But ****** his feet still work and he can still walk.
He has the biggest heart imaginable,
his son worries about his father.

Goodnight.
Sleep well.
I love you so much.
See you in the morning.
I love you so much, dad.
Interactive poetry: This poem to be read in a stereo-typical Tennessean female drawl

Why Elvis, let me tell you Elvis just loves Cadillac automobiles
And Elvis he is passionate for his sixguns
Why Elvis is simply devoted to his Mama
And don't you know Elvis he idolizes The Colonel

Now Elvis is wild about Harley- Davidson motorcycles
Truth is Elvis worships his fans
Oh Elvis he's quite mad for The Beatles, all four of them!
And naturally Elvis adores animals

I can't begin to tell you how much Elvis dotes over Lisa-Marie
and Elvis just adores animals...Oh heavens to Betsy didn't I just say that already
Oh my oh my Elvis is a peacock for fancy stage wear
Elvis Aaron Presley praises The good Lord Jesus

Oh The President, Elvis truly admires The President
And Elvis reveres The Stars and Stripes
Oh did I mention Elvis is crazy for cheeseburgers
Why Elvis he just loves drugs

Why Elvis just...
Why... Oh Elvis why?
Logan Paul May 2020
Whose heart is that? I think I know.
Its owner is quite sad though.
It really is a tale of woe,
I watch her frown. I cry hello.

She gives her heart a shake,
And sobs until the tears make.
The only other sound's the break,
Of distant waves and birds awake.

The heart is dull, empty and deep,
But she has promises to keep,
Until then, she shall not sleep.
She lies in bed with ducts that weep.

She rises from her bitter bed,
With thoughts of sadness in her head,
She idolizes being dead.
Facing the day with never ending dread.
𝐕𝐕 Oct 2020
She
She dreams of the ideal man,
   but the suitor idolizes death in his soulful slumber.
She takes care of herself,
   though she cannot bestow her beauty to impressionists.
She falls in love,
   yet her delusional passions seethe her in disarray.
She finds new friends,
   but a ******* of overzealous poison tarnishes the relationship.
She cooks for more than one;
   ghosts accompany the reserved empty chairs.
She re-models her home,
   driven to impress; however, she is the only one impressed.
She longs for attention,
   craving for a taste of wanting to be loved.
She is she,
   and she is her own canvas.
she only wanted to be loved for who she was ━ that was all this lovely, dear maiden requested amongst those who seek material value rather than marital values.
Ronald J Chapman Dec 2014
You are my first one.
Are you ready for some fun?
The beating of our hearts is as one.

Only you are in my life,
One day I hope you will be my wife,
For always and forever.
Me and you in love.

I wish there were words beyond the words of love. I could
Give to you. “I cherish you and every moment I'm with you."
You are the only one in this world for me.
My eyes "Adore" you. My
Heart idolizes your soul. I

Keep trying to think of words that mean “Love greater than love.”
It always comes back to your strength, patience, intelligence.
Safe to say, “You define the words “Love greater than love.”



© 2013 - 2014 Ronald J Chapman All Rights Reserved.
I Love You Beyond Words (Winner of the Southern Oregon Shakespeare Film Festival)
http://youtu.be/JGBKG_ughOY
Al May 2013
our society
talks of acceptance
of equality,
but only if you look the part.

our society
is one filled with ***
of promiscuity,
but God forbid
if you bed anyone.

our society
idolizes love
and soul mates
but only if it is the right ***.

our society
tells us that everyone is unique,
but whatever you do
don’t be yourself.
Lead K Feb 2021
Whose seal is that? I think I know.
Its owner is quite sad though.
It really is a tale of woe,
I watch her frown. I murmur: "Hello."

She gives her seal a shake,
And sobs until the tears quake.
The only other sound's the break,
Of distant waves and birds awake.

The seal is living, weird and deep,
But she has promises to keep,
And until then she shall not sleep.
She hides in bed with ducts that weep.

She rises from that bitter bed,
With dreams of sadness in her head.
She idolizes being dead.
To seal-less pain forever wed.
Seal Rock, San Francisco, California, United States of America, Earth, Sol System, Milky Way, Clarence The Turtle
Swetank Modi Sep 2017
Who would contradict the affection of a mother?
She who endeavored to bestow us the breath of existence;
Intensely compassionate in personality they are.
Secures us and therefore forms our defense.

Who else can obtain and sustain the duty of a sister?
She who happens to be our emotional support;
Sensible in intellect and gentle in action they are.
Guides us and therefore on no account lets us abort.

Who would constantly be dependable like a wife?
She who makes it crucial to fulfill our needs at any rate;
Gorgeous in qualities and remains beside us for our entire life,
Idolizes us and therefore desires us to be her soul mate.

Who else can be more valuable than a daughter?
She who sacrifices for the advantages of her family;
Garnished with essence of motherliness and heals our scar.
They are overflowing with responsibilities to an extreme degree.

Women stay as the most significant person in our life and soul,
And build an effort to facilitate us to accomplish our goal.
Rohan Nath May 2017
Who would contradict the affection of a mother?
She who endeavored to bestow us the breath of existence;
Intensely compassionate in personality they are.
Secures us and therefore forms our defense.

Who else can obtain and sustain the duty of a sister?
She who happens to be our emotional support;
Sensible in intellect and gentle in action they are.
Guides us and therefore on no account lets us abort.

Who would constantly be dependable like a wife?
She who makes it crucial to fulfill our needs at any rate;
Gorgeous in qualities and remains beside us for our entire life,
Idolizes us and therefore desires us to be her soul mate.

Who else can be more valuable than a daughter?
She who sacrifices for the advantages of her family;
Garnished with essence of motherliness and heals our scar.
They are overflowing with responsibilities to an extreme degree.

Women stay as the most significant person in our life and soul,
And build an effort to facilitate us to accomplish our goal.
Robert Guerrero Jul 2021
All those subtle acts
Random as they might be
Carefully thought out
Remember DO's and DONT's
All the while portraying
With rainbow flags
Neon strobes
Megaphone so loud
You don't hear it
You literally see it
The feelings I have for you
Unreciprocated
Never demanded payback
Even when I tell myself
Just forget it all
Everything that has YOU
Graffiti carved into it
You manage to stay
Like an obedient dog
To a foreign owner
My commands and desires
Have no interest in listening
I watch you smile
Hold back tears
Deny depression
Hope and pray
For the exact outcome
I treasure in dreams
Only difference is
I'm not in yours
Notoriously I'll settle
Eventually in that specific
Happy little home
You made for me
In your life
As a dear friend
With all intentions
Of placing me on a shelf
Forgetting I exists
Similar to children's dolls
If I were to become inanimate
I'd surely collect dust
All effort to keep me
In the forefront of temporal lobes
You wouldn't even use
If I didn't chisel a smile
On your statue expression
Keen on not letting the world see
That very human little girl
Who only wants what she wants
Love and affection
Attention and devotion
Not placed on a pedestal
Merely elegantly placed
To surely be noticed first
If only you knew
What I keep hidden from you
Maybe you do
Then I'm just a fool
Either way it goes it seems
I don't have stupid
On my forehead
But undoubtedly it's stamped
Ever so boldy
Across my ***
*****
For patiently waiting
In a line to a buffet
Closed down for so long
Dying of starvation
Knowing no other place
Will be as enjoyable
As the one I dined at
That one time
So long ago
If you knew
If you really knew
That I don't just love you
My heart idolizes you
You captivated me
Far beyond comprehension
That it irates me
I can't figure out
Exactly why I'm stuck
Feeling this way
You're my sun
Keeping my earth in orbit
Till your light switch
Starts being played with
Disconnecting me from you
Leaving me awaiting
A black hole
You pull me away from
Just as I'm about to dive in
If I could erase you
From my heart I would
Just so you could chase
All the happiness
You may or may not find
While I chased nothing
Expecting nothing to come
From every little bit of something
Knowing, if you knew
How I really felt
You'd be lost right with me
Sipping depression
On anxiety front property
Stranded on an overpopulated island
To loneliness instead
Where unmet hopes
Grow like weeds
Often used as kindling
For a fire to get through the day
So tell me now
Do you really want to know me
Black box warning label
How I feel comes as a side effect
I guarantee you don't
I'd advise not
Then you'll have to face
How you really feel
Trying to juggle
What you want
With what you need
And what you have
So whatever you do
I ask at least
Turn the magnet off
That way rust can finally
Consume my iron heart
Unbending in it's unwavering decision
To love you and only you
With little to no interest
In potential relationships
Or ****** fulfilment
All I need is your smile
And I have everything
So if you didn't
Maybe you do now
Maybe you won't ever
Depending on if I ever
Convince myself to try
Attempting for you to know
So I'll know
What I need to know
To just close this chapter
I've been rereading
Since the day I met you
Cardboard-Jones May 2019
One man who brought the world to one city
The center of their universe
The sky rains rose petals
The streets echo his name with thunderous roar and applaud
The king of a long line of kings
Raises his head above his ego
Statues created to honor his marvel to stand against time
Love and adoration finds him
From the most insignificant peasant
To the most honorable politician
One emperor, one king, above them all
He would be remembered far past his passing

One man in Rome had a different voice
One man hired by the immortal himself
One man to do the job behind the curtain
He stands behind his boastful aura
Behind the fabled greatness
Whenever someone gave him love
Whenever someone praised his name
Whenever someone kissed his hand
There was this man to remind him
Whenever someone blessed his life
Whenever someone sacrificed in his name
Whenever someone idolizes him with infamous intent
There is this man
A loyal servant to Rome and her bounty
To whisper in the modest King's ear

"You are just a man. You are just a man."
Astor Nov 2015
I wanna be a polaroid girl

I think that everyone knows at least one.
You don't ever have to say a word to them and yet they completely turn your life upside down and you end up kissing the concrete where your feet should be.
They are always on an adventure and you're just along for the ride
There are no rumors about them
Because every single one you hear is just a half truth

They are always beautiful, always free, always wild and utterly careless.
The life of a polaroid girl is not easily obtained its more something that they're born into
but you can always see one in the making

I want to be a rosebud like them
they are legendary but easily forgotten
and they live in a glorified loneliness because everyone is just a passenger in their lives they hop in and hop out
everyone idolizes them but no one fulfills them

they thrive on *** you can see it in their eyes

they're always stuck in the summer haze that helps define them

they have ******* and acid flowing in their veins
and alcohol on their breath

I wanna live on the breezy landscape photo that you have no memory of taking but treasure and never show a soul
penny
lana
julia
rose
sophia
margot
effie
lux
elise
Ash Oct 2020
As blue
As the blood
That taints the perfect crown
I frown, watching the kingdom
I love
Fight a tireless war.

A war
Against those with scales of blue,
Where we lose far too many of those we love,
And spill far too much blood.
We say we fight in the name of our almighty kingdom.
They say they fight in the name of the crown.

A crown
Which has only seemed out hatred and war
And is willing to **** any who speak against its kingdom,
Allowing the royal blue
Blood
Shed— even from those we love.

But love
Is not felt by those who bear the crown.
We never learn the true meaning of spilled blood,
Or the pain caused by an everlasting war.
A war we fuel until every petal has fallen, mixing with the blue,
Leaving in its wake, a broken and hollow kingdom.

A kingdom
Lead by one who just never love,
Who must only mind the blue
Gem embedded in the crown,
Starting war after war,
Only protecting our title and our blood.

The blood
Which only flows through the veins belonging to the royals of this kingdom,
Who only know war
And believe the greatest weakness one could have is love.
We’re born and raised for the crown
As the world idolizes our shade of blue.

Yet— I spill my blood for those I love,
And serve my kingdom, even though I hold no crown,
I’ll fight this war, your hand in mine, stained in shades of royal blue.
A sestina written from the perspective of one of my original characters.
Elsa Dec 2019
Whose heart is that?
I think I know.
It’s owner is quite sad though.
It really is a tale of great woe,
I watch him frown.
I cry a whispered "hello".

He gives his heart a shake,
and sobs until the tears make.
The only other sounds that break.
Of distant waves and birds awake.

The heart is dark,
deep yet clear.
But he has promised to keep.
Until then he shall not sleep.
He lies in bed with ducts that weep.

He rises from his bitter bed with thoughts of sadness in his head. He idolizes being dead.
Facing the days with never ending dread.
Silver heart Jun 2020
Whose heart is that? I think I know.
It’s owner is quite sad though.
It really is a tale of woe,
I watch her frown. I cry hello.

She gives her heart a shake.
And sobs until the tears make.
The only other sound’s the break,
Of distant waves and birds awake.

The heart is aching, broken and deep,
But she has promises to keep,
Until then she shall not sleep.
She lies in bed with ducts that weep.

She rises from her bitter bed,
With thoughts of sadness in her head.
She idolizes being dead.
Facing the day with never ending dread.
Ryan P Kinney May 2019
Assembled by Eli Williams and Ryan P. Kinney
From works by Lennart Lundh, Gabriella Ercolani, Vicki Acquah, Ayla Atash, Russ Vidrick, Chuck Joy
Additional original content by Eli Williams and Ryan P. Kinney

Some future digger after truth,
alien or human, kneeling with
trowel and brush at this grave,
will note in clear, careful script
the wonder that a people would
be so deliberate with the smallest
of their gods' creatures,
and so careless of themselves.

They walked upon the new Earth
Like they did on the Old
Tugging along their gravel hearts
On freshly laid asphalt
Their eyes slowly
Moving towards the new sky
The clouds, like curtains, unfolded
Their feet freshly cleansed of old
Traditions and assumptions that they
would never make it to this great moment
But no one knew what was past
That port of no return
The ship sailed away,
Faded out of view
The lights one by one dim
The music softens
The actors bow,

Bewildered is the conscience of a dancer
whose unified self wishes to remain true
to a lover,
to family,
a social circle.
Yet a facet of the face must make love
to the masses;
each hungry audience that idolizes the mask,
she slowly exposes.

Another layer chipped away like
Hardened clay
The people here aspire to be
Nothing more than alive
The lives of the New World
In the hands of strangers
Coexisting within each other
For fear of never existing again
This is their lifeline, their blood
They are all in this repopulation
Together

They are husband and wife, or lovers.
They are childhood sweethearts
become best friends against adversity.
Or supplicants, praying for tomorrow.

But when your empty heart is weighed
"what are you really worth?"

I am vapor
An ethereal mist that permeates through all people
Unknown that I have infected them
That my heaviness weighs on their soul

You stand here, asking me,
“What do I want?”

I want to be light
Free,
Not a particle that jams up people’s souls
But something that invigorates them

She presses her hand to the bulletproof safety glass
And meekly whispers,
“Well, what do they say?”

They say I shouldn’t be so tired
They say I should get a job
They say I should get off this couch
They say I shouldn’t be a blob

They say I should feel,
Live
Create
His hands move wildly in the air
Miming a paint brush; a hammer
A tool of destruction; creation
He weaves his hands as though he is dancing to his own genesis


Simple and intense
As the splattered paint on a Jackson ******* canvas

we see others as they are
we see ourselves at every age
and all at once
FredrickF Dec 2018
Whose Love is that? I think I know.
Its owner is quite sad though.
It really is a tale of woe,
I watch him frown. I cry hello.

He gives his Love a shake,
And sobs until the tears make.
The only other sound's the break,
Of distant waves and birds awake.

The Love is romantic, live and deep,
But he has promises to keep,
Until then he shall not sleep.
He lies in bed with ducts that weep.

He rises from his bitter bed,
With thoughts of sadness in her head,
He idolizes being dead.
Facing the day with never ending dread.
Ryan P Kinney May 2019
Assembled by Ryan P. Kinney
From works by Gabriella Ercolani, Dr. Benjamin Anthony, Heather Munn, Vicki Acquah, Tanya Pilumeli
Additional original content by Ryan P. Kinney

Bewildered is the conscience of a dancer
whose unified self wishes to remain true
to a lover,
to family,
a social circle.
Yet a facet of the face must make love
to the masses;
each hungry audience that idolizes the mask,
she slowly exposes.

Then he saw the little movements where her belly was and now were taut muscles barely holding back guts and little faces with eyes shut snakes tiny tongues clicking, tails wrapping around

Atlantic waves
Soothing
Tsunami crashes; my mental health strews memory about like road sand.

A child asks for two dollars
To help me from his heart-
My maintenance software
Opens to error messages-
"Man pushes glasses up
On his nose-incidentally";

Resistance subdued
Take her then
Junk in the corner
She's worthless to me

This is no kindness in this man.
He is gluttony incarnate.
Consumption just to flaunt his aristocracy to the peasant.

You enter the world empty-handed and you will leave it empty-handed.
Redaviel Jan 2020
The music played on the radio reminds me
Of long trips and destinations often so romantic
I forgot this is literally about the topic anymore
The wind is a blessing presented to our faces
As I drive and you sit back and we move forward
The taste of youth lingers like a stubborn kid

The chorus was memorable, like your pristine smile
Your joy is childlike, your body young and blessed
Your face is divine, your embrace is inviting
Your soul is warm, like the sun above us
Your song is what the ear naturally hears
But the heart forever remembers and idolizes

But the music should come to an end
Instruments aren't to be blamed, it's meant to be
I lost my way and hearing like how I lost you
And I don't know what to write anymore
But I know how to hum and sing what I remember
I will hum and sing and it will play forever
Random

— The End —