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CK Baker Feb 2017
There were dividing lines
between springfield
and mariners gate
soft, subtle lines
that spoke of origin
and code
and biting union

it was all
the reason
for being;
alive and living
dead or dying
deep in a pack
of pint size resistors
hell bent on the
marsh crow
and cannabis tower
jumping the rush
with *** shots
and anchors
and tribunals

camouflage creepers
and transient floaters
marked rebellion at the gates
(skullduggery and taunt
high on their favor list)
jack straws and flat paddles
for the evening charade
beakers and flailing hands
from the foot washing baptist
(the pleasant street conservatives with their
own something to say…“there’s gonna be hell to pay!”)

there's a
lingering effect
to this sentiment
(evident in the pump house stride)
the river winds
blow gently
into the night
as the huddling packers
and **** backs
chase the evening hours

it’s a bitter sweet
end of an era;
those traction bars
hood scoops
and nickel bags
will always
be the rage
September Roses Feb 2018
Imagine a Person
just like you
living parallel to you
their life a parallel line to yours
a Person who finds the same thrills as you
loves nothing more than your favorite artist
your passions exactly the same
living your life
singing your songs
painting your paintings
a Person so uncannily made for you
someone that you would instantly click with
someone that would watch sunsets with you
someone you would never let go of till the day you die.
someone impossible
because you just never quite meet
someone you just miss by some cruel circumstance
and you'll always miss them
because you see the thing about parallel lines
they never meet
Debbie Brindley Nov 2018
Woke up last Sunday
Vision slightly impaired
was my eye playing tricks
thought it was nothing to be feared
But my eye did not correct
Straight lines wonky
Vision blurred
My head feeling slightly giddy
a little nuts
It was absurd
4 days in
off to the optometrist
I went to see
Not Retinal Detachment
But Macular Degeneration
My first thought
"oh ?#[email protected] me"
So off to the hospital  
It was so hard not to flee
My eye ball was numbed sanitised
injected into
So hopefully
It will be fine
Because if it doesn't work I'll end up legally blind
Scary
If your eyes ever play up go have them checked.
Had to write this with my left eye closed.
False Poets Jan 2015
like yours
if you'll reciprocate

follow you
if you'll follow me

repost mine
repost yours

pump up those
double discount
quantitative adulations

making everything here,
cheapened and discounted

“Oh, what a tangled web we weave...
when first we practice to deceive.”

standalone
on your merits own
the only way to stand
upright
veritas Aug 2018
red stains, fading, cracked, scented

     if i kissed your prints, would they kiss me back?

sighs, thoughts, spaces between prints

     spaces between words, between parted lips and floating thoughts the world! is so crowded with space but yours is the one i want to fill .

     but where are the lines? lines of loss, lines of lawns, lines of ink and rips and more stains and letters, in the hands and on the pavement

where are the lines?

why won't you go there?

why do you hover in these foul, indomitable spaces? why do you seek that which you should not?

     if the shadow of lines slinks in your quiet expression, then why are you still here?

     if the echo of your soft face lingers in my hands, if the whisper of your breath and the heat of your skin still singes my own, then why do you disappear?

lovely wraith, lovely memory of a thing that once was, why do you sit so alone?

because i am coming to your space, and if you can see me, of shadow and fog, then i will meet you there,

     on a line of our own.

>because it's a death premeditated and i can see it unfolding,

     sharp wounding painful

and the discourse in the sky is telling me so, yet why do i keep walking west?
lots of questions (this isn't a poem of answers. don't look for one).
Ann M Johnson Apr 2017
When heroes are perceived as villains and villains are considered heroes our perception is skewed
Once too many lines are crossed and boundaries are removed. Then cauos ensues and is thus free to rule.Would this even be displayed on the 6 o clock news?
Or would it just be considered necessary collateral damage?
Who would still be left to calculate the final cost on all of us?
I recently watched a movie at a friends house in which the villains were precented as the good guys. That got me to thinking and writing this as a result. I would appreciate your feedback on this poem, my friends. Thank you for taking the time to read this poem.
Life* often speaks in rhythm & blues
whispering trumpets to bended ears, while reminding us
that smiles belong only in photographs; and tears
behind the curtain of an indifferent face

We walk fine
lines, between tragedy
and genius, lines so rarely straight
we seek balance in mediocrity
and solitude in unfinished lives

We become incomplete puzzles
forcing squares into circular places
by tearing away pieces of the whole
and conforming to the empty spaces

some things were never meant to be changed

We place people into boxes, neatly organizing them
by the
labels* we give their cracks and flaws
seldom ever realizing that *broken has a beauty all it's own
, and...

*some things were never meant be mended
lithe on corridors
insidewalk

slink up and down
sliding hollows underground
outstretched on the edge
underscoring ley lines

I cuddle the crevice
ear pressing the cold
awaiting your gait
tick talk

our primordial
past chisels hum
verbing part lips

howhowhow
to bridge these walls

so I can
taste myself
on your mouth

I miss it like hell
King Panda Mar 2016
my dear Cosette,
why did you fall?
why didn’t you pick
yourself back up?

I saw you
on the battle lines
red shemagh
tied about your neck
I saw the bayonet
pierce your
breast
to match your
red
your man’s
clothes

why do we
disguise ourselves,
Cosette?
why don’t women
make history?
why can’t a woman
take a bullet?

my dear Cosette,
we fall
on words
on chisels
on the battle lines
sometimes we don’t
get back up
sometimes we die
before we are dead

my dear Cosette,
I watched you
bleed
I heard you
scream blue
******
you were my sister
and I was the sculptor
to capture
the peace of death
on your face

my dear Cosette,
I watched you die
now rise
to the battle lines
rise
with your head high
let me resurrect you
with my hands
Osiria Melody Feb 23
Amazing how a text message conveying
affection
Regarded as a few lines of dejection
Amazing how a photo of joviality,
Regarded as a—fallacy
Amazing how a video of life's best moments,
Ignites a fire of jealousy, a ring of volcanic
comments surging with scorching words

Amazing how my likes and comments strikes
another's conscience,
Belittling their importance since being popular
means everything
Having the most followers means being a valid
member of society
Amazing how the fame of being a social media
phenomenon is the best thing in the world,
Nothing could replace the missed connection that you and I share

Among the shared posts and counterfeit feelings of emojis,
We lose what it means to connect to one another
personally
Rather than living in life's moments selflessly,
Everything is about me, me, me
Not you, 'cause my posts matter more for my
self-esteem

A missed connection of what reality means,
Above the ubiquitous screens emitting blue light,
Fill in all of these captured memories
Not through a glowing device, but through eyes of authenticity
Experiencing what it means to cross the bridge between an idealized world to mundane

A missed connection of what reality means
For once, put down that screen and live in reality with me



Melody
2/23/19
It's not very fun conversing with someone in-person when they're on their phone.
Seanathon Jan 2017
Be not mistaken
I'm here as a creator
Your words hold no sway
Over my designer's eyes
So keep them in your own lines
There are two kinds of people in this world.... (;
Madelynn Nieves Sep 2018
Lost
Empty
Apathetic
Varying degrees of self hatred
Effortlessly breaking me down

Making me doubt
Everything we ever were

Asking politely
Let me be
Or learn to grow
Not digress
Existing in solitude is what I do best
made by inserting line breaks into the top chunk of my 8.0k words*

know like
just thing inside
**** maybe
life things think
soul time real love
day lines **** mind eyes

got feel
want words trying
left matter
tongue feet hands
door cold

space holy
bones way wanna *******
we're walked walls
truth open
end line best
years ***** ink heart
little moments stories says
dust hand
free hope trust

sad wish
hell rising past inner fingers
night white teeth sit deep
dunno tell crystal
sure wanted make pull sky
remember dropped felt knees
brimming poetry

******* air seen
lips palms spin
lonely black mouth  
hard page
really dreams ready

fear other's crack  
corner survival broken
hollow home
clear tears coming
edge high pain
thought bubbles wet

push imperfect bloom  
breaking skin motions
mystical flow say lost
direct warm red
use having meant  
there's floor shaking
friendship grey  
arms wrong cracked

ride doubt escape
knew look
bare right girl
wonder feeling
finger days
sophia Oct 2017
I could travel from miles away holding the same book but the feel of every page will never grasp my heartfelt grip of this certain chapter and i’m not moving on, never again.

he’s my favourite story.
Jesse stillwater Apr 2018
Just disappearing
isn't possible
when it takes
so long for
a rock wall
to erode away

  The wind
is the only one
that sees you,
and its silence
grinds down
from the inside out
a mountain
too high to climb


  It's hard to forget
swelling words
spoken under the breath
of the voice of silence,
when your hands
are lined with all
that they ever have;

still bearing
every latent piece
that breaks off
tryin' to keep
from the sight
of another
tempest storm gale
moving worlds

  So I'm going
way outside
the edge of the inside;
crossing over
way outside the lines
covered by gathered
windblown life fractals
 
  Though I may not
get back in again,
way outside the lines,
or I might not
even want to ...
you can’t go back
the same way
you came,
everything changes
while you're gone
even if you DO notice

  Gravity pulls
with the strength
of a turning tide:
you can try
and fight it,
but you can't stop
its running downhill
looking behind
your eyes, trying
to take you back
the same way you
went way outside
  the lines ...


        Jesse
.
  04 April 2018
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