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patty m Apr 2018
The far space is closing along a band of trees,
peelings of shadowy rind expose ghostly hues.
all around the air is flammable,
until the setting sun a burning bush turns ashen.  

Strange mood around this monolithic rock
that some folks fear.
Overlong we have waited presenting our sacrifices.
yet not a breath of wind stirs as we chant
and seeds take root.  

A strange spirit leaps into our midst
and all around there is a quick intake of breath.
Piercing movement collapses in upon itself as it whispers
though our pores.
Rhythms strange insistent beat, a driving force
whirls through our bloodstream,
its slow sensuous movements lead us into dreams.
Attached ghost,
your haunting aria spins in ethereal mist
transposing meditation.
Someone has put a hole in our language and now as we
look with hazy speculation upon the book
with tiny red stitches we remain baffled,
turning it round and round looking at all the foreign symbols,
                                   but it cannot be deciphered.  
Only the creatures of the forest remember;
Mid-Summer nights, the sound of magical flutes and the
bells of dancing nymphs.  
Only they understand  the gifts that Gaia bestows.    
Only they remember the Wisdom Of The Faun.
Mohamed Nasir Jul 2018
To ill is scourge hazard of modern man;
The way of life which tricked you leaves you weak.
Before it pounced, prevent you must! You can,
Your visions blur, your limbs cut, your times bleak.
Avoid refined sweetness pure, you should know,
The more you love to eat the more you crave;
Your sweet tongue urged pleasures deals a cruel blow,
The more you indulge, closer be your grave.
This sickness gradual erosion of health,
Like shrinking pools merciless sun would drain.
A diabetic's woe: no amount of wealth,
Could stop the vines that binds and break the chain.
Without remedy and won't heal for good,
So sweat, please monitor intake of food.
his rugged eyes tore his soul,
desperate for a break.
He likes the poison it drips off,
more desperate for its intake.
He seems.... hungry..
but it's not only lack of food.
It's the distance he walks between who he is,
and how he's really viewed.
He acts angry, and he is,
but it's at that part he can't obey.
It keeps ripping up his notes,
so that his real words can never stay.
So he doesn't have thoughts of his own,
or even a body, and around his neck?
A vial that keeps getting tighter,
seeping chemicals within to cause regret-
i haven't been on here in FOREVER so I'm sorry, lol. I relapsed and these last few weeks have been tough, to the point where I couldn't write without getting really low inside my head. Anyway, i appreciate all the support I've been getting, and I have a youtube channel if y'all didn't know. I made some songs and posted them on there, if you type in Lyn Defelice, I'll pop up.
All feedback is welcome and appreciated!
Michael Kusi Aug 2018
The queen's intake of men is shown to us.
The breath born by tears dulled by mid-wives.
I see no angst in him, to steal my trust.
I told son Happy birth, you have a life.
I think he has my face, all where I look.
Even his squint is mine, that twinkled sigh.
My son's names should all be in all baby books
Someone raises eyebrows and says, He's a guy.
My wife and I conversed at length to name.
I said his first word should always be Dad
My wife giggled and said you'll be the same
I think I want Junior to get the name I had
My name is the best I gave as who I am
He’s fighter born to stand as giant’s shoulders
You look upon his face you see his brand
He’s easily made to prepare to be all soldier.
His love of cry is just his first war speech
Men will either salute or say yes preach.
I had not told you of  this, not yet,
Until now, when it returns clearly,
Within the timelessness of interior life.
A month to the day and the memory,
Abides in its own identity, being itself.
                          
Into this now familiar unboundedness
Came a new and exquisite presence,
A force field tenderly embracing me -
Just along the edges of my seated form.
Unmistakably you. A quiet certainty.
How could I know? But I knew.
As it dissolved, a light of the palest green,
Took its place, glowing a blessing.
                        
Breathing became the intake of bliss
made into the finest substance, and
I was renewed, visited, complete.
©Elisa Maria Argiro
Pradeep Oct 2018
Here I was, reading and
writing poems on HP,
glad I hit a personal
high in frequency,
if not classic poetry.

Some months passed,
and my interest in it,
being afflicted with
Poetry Enthusiasm Deficit.

Was it work, ***** Netflix
intake with less water,
or i let 'busy' hijack my
life while poetry
passed me by?

The doctor told me,
'take it easy,
one word at a time,
or you'll feel queasy,
PED can happen any season,
not the Netflix kind,
the autumn-spring type,
I know how you feel'.

I glanced at his notepad
just as he covered it,
scribbles with lines
ending with rhymes,
crocin and aspirin,
words of chemical mystery,
compositions poetic
and bitter tonic
converging like two streams,
reminding me of modern art
since I could decipher
little from the sheet o' paper,
too surprised to pretend
to comprehend.

'I am recovering, I will form
a support group,
give a PED talk even,
'Just let it out' '.

I did. I realised PED's
a good reason
to mask a rant as a poem.
Don't you blame me, I
more than hinted in the title.
Rick Jul 2018
My intake took your fuel and ran it threw
to this carburetor and disguised itself as a brain.
It took all the information thrown at it and combined it together, then a little spark caused an explosion, which led me here:

I stood idle and held myself in the ice cold rain,
Water began dripping down on my shivering frame.
Each drop adding a beat like a song’s surrounding pound,
Running thoughts drown out into a long forgotten sound.

Pulling the handle I choose to release this body's soul.
And I strike solid like a nut whose free from the tool,
And land with a force derived from deep set desires.
Finally free from the strong grips of deadly pliers.

My soul is free, therefore it no longer seems to mind
That I drove away and left my lonely nut behind
And there it remains in the heat of the black asphalt
Sinking into the earth because of mine own ****** faults.
With no argument I think most people agree
With the adage stating that, "you are what you eat"
But it's possible there's information not known
Having equal importance or maybe more so

All the nutrients eaten; We intake our food
It will travel through digestive tract once consumed
Same can also be said of our actions and thoughts
They're the building blocks making up all that we are

Brains are not like a rigid or fixed type machine
An old dog and new tricks go together it seems
Our plasticity will let us both change and shift
It makes pathways; New neural links over the rifts

These connections might possibly benefit us
But this same mechanism can also do stuff
With a negative scope, the outlook and belief
We might think we're no good; Our lives filled with much grief

If we're constantly saying things inside our heads
Like self-doubting, self-loathing and feelings of dread
Then our brain will re-wire to fit this outlook
Once ensconced in this spectrum; Not easily shook

The same way that a person engages with time
Like activity, also is true with the mind
A small change in the way that we look at ourselves
The new thoughts and beliefs in our mind start to meld

With the make-up within that each one of us holds
Self-beliefs and self-doubts from our birth till we're old
Like a painter with ink; Our brush never is dry
We are always creating what's in our mind's eye

So don't hinder yourself with a picture that's bleak
Just believe in yourself and go get what you seek
You are capable of so much more than you know
All it takes is belief and in time it will show
Written: November 20, 2018

All rights reserved.
[Anapestic Tetrameter format]
Kewayne Wadley Apr 2018
Due to popular belief. I believe that certain things are due to happen naturally.
Like all other things it's bound to grow. This thing, love.
We are due to become obese to this organic, homegrown feeling.

The initial look that begins as taste. Naturally we are starved.

Aroused by the scent that lures us close. This thing, love.

One thing we must learn is self control. To not over indulge in the primary reason it exists.

To selfishly take because it's there. This thing, love.

Effort exudes as it becomes habit. Being placed at a table readily available for what portion comes next.

This need becomes confused with want.

To please others before our need in unselfish manner. A straight forward response to habit.

The rising availability of also being taken for granted. The insurmountable outline that defines lust.

Our intake becomes higher attempting to justify the difference. Thus we become lazy.

Reacting in ways we normally wouldn't. This thing, love.

This scent acts as incentive,  instantly attracted by which we over indulge.

Searching for this thing, love.

It's a reasonable thing. Knowing when to reach. When to pull. When to give and sacrifice.

Almost always all of these happen, learning self control, vocalizing when we've had our fill.

Else we will continue to eat until there is nothing left.
Grown obese. This thing, love
Iska Oct 2017
Let me tell you a story.
A Human is walking through woods, where he stops under a tree and gives a sullen sigh. When a beautiful maiden calls from among the leaf leaden branches above,
"Whatever's the matter?"
The Man looks up, startled to see the fair lady in the tree and as she climbs down to stand before him he tells her of his sorrow. His friend was leaving him, to a land very far from where they now stood. the maiden states that many people are often in search of living a life different from the one they are currently leading and asks what else is bothering him.
He states that he's.... lost.
"You spend your whole life looking up at the moon, terrified that you are wasting your life away."
She says, and he agrees.
"Then why not go out and live the life you dream of living?"
He searches for an answer but cannot find one, save for the fact that he feels stuck.
"You are only stuck if you wish to be."
Getting irritated by her wise answers, he asks what life she would lead. The maiden looks up at the many trees towering above them, her eyes watching the light dance with the leaves as she answers,
"I would want to travel, to breathe."
The man states the wishing to breathe is an odd desire indeed. She just kept looking up at the sky as she continued,
"All of these trees are working tirelessly day and night to give us air to breathe. I would make sure that each and every breath had meaning. That with every intake of air carried the taste of adventure and every breath out holds a memory with it. I would try my hardest to ensure that I did not let a single breath go to waste. We all spend so much time ensnared in our small world, dreaming of something more beyond what we know, but refusing to go and seek it out. I wish to not merely exist, but to LIVE."
The man asks why she doesn't heed her own advice,
"Alas," she sighs,
"I am a Tree nymph and cannot move beyond the roots buried deep within the earth, or the tree will die, and I, with it."
Suddenly filled with pity for the beautiful nymph he states that he may know of a spell that could release her from her binds to the tree and allow her to pursue her desire. she then shakes her head and with a small, sad smile, she tells him she could never do such a thing. When he asks why she says
"I have spent my whole life caring for this tree, we are entwined together. To leave it in pursuit of my own dreams, would be leaving it to die. this I cannot do."
The man shakes his head, confused.
"It is simply a tree," he states "there are thousands more just like it."
"Ah," she says, wishing for a way to further explain herself,
"This is not just any tree. Somewhere out there, there is someone relying on this tree to breathe so that they may live their lives to the fullest they can. Weather it be a small child learning to walk and explore this beautiful land for the first time, or may it be an elder who has lived a long life, with many stories to tell, they are relying on this tree and to take it away so that I may go about life the way I dream, would be a selfish thing indeed."
Touched by her selfless sacrifice the man exclaims that it was hardly fair, that so many people remain wasting their lives away within their paper worlds settling for existing due to laziness and fear, while others, are dreaming of the freedom to actually live while imprisoned by their sacrifices.
"Is their no other way?"
He questions, but the maiden shakes her head.
"Well is there any way I can help?"
Her eyes light up and she smiles. A smile that is as warm and bright as the summer sun.
"Why yes, there is. you can go and live your life to the fullest you possibly can, because, you too, are relying on somebody's sacrifice to be free to live. So don't waste it, and when you have aged and grow weary, with snow kissed hair and wizened eyes, share your stories with those who follow. Share your sorrows and your triumphs, and all that lie in between. Start your story here, on the day your sorrows have lead you here, to the Nymph who dreams to live, inspire them to do the same and then I will know that my sacrifice has not been in vain."
Jordan Hudson Nov 2018
Highway, street, it's right up the road
Hotel stay, motel meet, star of the show
Raise hell day, shell station meet, the more you know
Accelerate, stance nation meet, car is too slow
2.4 the fragile four, the friendly ricer next door
Four banger, rice ganger, listen to her roar
Blow the engine, ****** on the floor
No brakes, stock intake, kick the Civic ricer out the door
Fake TRD blew the other rice away
Crop dusting some Honda today
Left some old Civic on the side of the road
Couldn't count on V-TEC anymore I suppose
I got VVT-i, the never dying ride
The electronics are fried, I won't hide or deny
But I am the roadside guide
Follow mine
Let's go
Line, line, line, line, line, line
Straight, dash, yellow and white
Line, line, line, line, line, line
Yeah, VVT-i
Line, line, line, line, line, line
Straight, dash, yellow and white
Line, line, line, line, line, line
Yeah, VVT-i
VVT-i power!
Ryan Summers Jan 14
My love,

I fell in love with you when I was young.
I remember that you first came to me when I held a hunting knife in my hand,
In front of a 3 ½ by 4 foot mirror.
You found me in the blood that stained my arms.
You came to me, initially, in sets of three.
I was eleven when you came to me.

It was December, I remember, when people found out I loved you.
My cousin asked about the red marks you leave on my arms,
I yanked my sleeve up in fear and responded “It’s just the cat.”
I never wanted to admit I had fallen in love with the most terrifying thing I could imagine.

The kids at school found out about you around this time-
I’d left my hoodie at home, and I couldn’t wear a coat to classes.
Everyone saw your aftermath.
I am surprised the counselor did not call me in to talk about you.

My love,

You had my aunt so angry with me she started to abuse me,
I remember her screaming at me getting worse every time she found out I had relapsed-
How she got more irritable.
I know that in the beginning she meant well-
But eventually, she just started trying to permanently hospitalize me.

You made her believe I was a freak, darling.

My love,

You found me in more ways as the years went on,
You started to mess with my body image and force down my food intake,
And then you forced my teeth to find my leg in a hospital bathroom
because I couldn’t take you back to your roots
Those roots where I held a four inch blade in my hand in a tiny bathroom
In front of the widest bathroom mirror I had ever seen,
Next to a towel clad window-

You eventually made me bruise myself to the point where I had dark brown splotches over my thighs for two and a half weeks.

My love,
I have loved you for five years this coming October.
It’s odd, thinking we’ve been together this long.
I still remember, vaguely, what we looked like together that first time-
I still see your ghost on my arms.

It’s been a month since the last time I’ve talked to you fully,
I’m not counting the days you whisper in my ears and I pull at my hair, you see,
But I can still see the last time we talked.
It’s the pink little mark down the center of my wrist that reminds me we were ever lovers,
And I’m terrified I’m coming back to you worse than ever.

My love,

You scare me.
I mean it. You genuinely scare me,
Because you make me feel so much better for a few hours until I realize I have to get undressed in front of people,
Because I don’t just have a room to myself anymore.

I have been found out about loving you seven times this last year alone from adults.
But I got smarter than most people.
I hide them in better places,
Scar up my hip bones and hiss whenever I move the wrong way
Or have to peel my clothes from the little marks you leave.

My love,

I love you.
I hate what you do but I love you.
I love that you make me feel better for a few minutes,
But I hate when everything goes downhill five minutes later.

I love you.
I’m sorry.
I've published this on another poetry site, so if anyone sees this under the same username, then it's still me.
Ellie Elliott Jun 2018
my whole life i've been breaking my heart on memories too jagged for it
moments like an intake of air
too short and sharp for my chest
that wants to rise slow and easy, graceful with every breath
a shock to the system to say the best,
the intimacy's fading with every detail of disrespect
heart skipping a beat before falling awake
back in step with recognition after being
stuck for a second, on the eerie formality of
small talk with such a familiar blank face
overwhelmed by that sickness in the back of my throat, urging me to get some space
choking on places that never wanted me
never asked for me,
never knew me,
never wanted to know me,
but my heart just wants to remember everyone fondly.

so my whole life i've been breaking my heart on memories too perfect for it
coffee and candles and inky hands in the evening
whisky lips and late night screenings
even the fighting the endless tears and the screaming
and the people that always ended up leaving -
like a beautiful little fool,
i fell in love with my pedestals
lived up to them one by one and had them leaving me breathless like duvet covers pulled off in the night
like green eyes under dim lights
and his lips on mine made me feel like i'm soulless
like the air i was breathing was nothing but stardust
pretty and cosmic but finally fruitless
and i can't lie, i didn't mind
'cause his hand round my throat made me feel like i'm worth this
like he gave me a promise
and said here, now keep it,
i promise he didn't.

sometimes i'm laying on carpets more worn than i am
staring at ceilings that have seen my hopeful eyes a few too many times
wondering if i really have nothing left to give
if i've had my fair share of people who want to stretch out moments with me
enough people to bathe in memories like warm oceans for the rest of my life
and maybe i should get going,
make like the moon and cling to horizons only for an evening
but my heart proves time and time over that i am overflowing
because here i am laughing at the sun like it isn't shining enough
to blaze through a summer that shines brighter than us
like i light up the dark.

and then peace finds me,
somewhere between forest pines and no trespassing signs
somewhere between my sheets and body heat
somewhere between one moment and the next
between car seats and ***
i am everywhere and i am nowhere
i'm his girlfriend, i'm his best friend
he's swearing under his breath in the lounge chair
like he knows i'm more than just the hot air on his skin
more than he ever knew he was involved in
i'm a universe of my very own and stardust is my cornerstone
breathe it in like magic, it's time for me to begin,
i am not just spare
i'm the whole engine
and i'm starting now, at the ending
jennie Apr 1
I drag a cigarette and my mind escapes.

That deep intake takes me to places I wanna get away.

My mind starts going places...
Those deep fumes of vegetables and clovers get my nose a-jump in’
That rabbit hop hop sends my small mind a-running.

Hide away in my rabbit hole
Don’t care about the world unknown.

Spring is the only time I come alive.
Late night thoughts. Be mean if you wants
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