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He was the ocean; handsome, but yet, Impulsively damaged. He had a sandy heart to correspond his sandy eyes, the moon dismantled that omitted pride he carried at a dead weight; shoveling and reshaping it, so people would see a sandcastle statue assembled in strength. But his washed-up soul and unannounced insecurities were aware of its genuine purpose,
this beach alongside his pupils;
quicksand, he'll sink so slowly in.  Waves in his hair like ripples on his cheeks, skipping stones land at his defeat, he left notes in bottles for you, sank multiple ships for you, because he hasn't the heart to say he's desiccating with the arrival of the stars.. Retracting scars are not too far from gasps for air,  foaming words of crisis by writing in the sand, signaling a light as the last one in him died. You wouldn't understand, the calm before the storm, as valve after valve puncture him. So intoxicating as it drains him, and from within, he's drying out. Sunburns stain him, a smile restrains him,
in an inescapable drought--
All feedback is welcome
So this was posted here a couple weeks ago and, when I went to revise it, it was drafted and came out as new, I guess? :)
meGaThOr Mar 2018
” she is quick to object"
Mumbai,  to receive the accolade of “Role Player
Attempt to hit back at their perceived “bully.”
They don’t fall a little; they crash into muck...
submission,
  hopelessness,
impunity,
corruption,
hypocrisy,
law and family ...
to ***** you since they’re not saints,
they are neither saints nor priests,
There’s a new order coming from mayor.
We won t **** you all ....
We will just shoot the ******,  that —
if there is no ******, it would be useless.
she is quick to object".
Fighting sexism and misogyny,
nonetheless open and willing to listen,
wear bug spray going forward,
“inform the court that we did this”
“didn’t like that.”
,” she is quick to object".
barbarians
Lacey Clark Oct 2018
Raised faux-religiously in a catholic school by convenience of neighborhood (though, I loved the plaid and I wanted to do Eucharist but my mom explained I wasn't catholic, so I dabbled with the hymns and cursive) by my two *** moms and some 'extra kids' (fostering, etc) in Spokane. Homeschooled later (and seriously religiously, Vacation Bible School, NO HARRY POTTER and no saying '******', a lot of neighborhood scootering) by uncle auntie and my two home-made and hilarious cousins (siblings) in Nevada. another private school in the Wild West with my grandpa and grandma (maybe religiously? they took me out to Mexican dinner religiously). And scattered across the West, Mid-West and South for all the rest. Public schools interwoven and equally traumatizing in between states.
One school in florida was known for fist fights and head lice. I kissed my first boy there. and girl. I left for what I thought was summer vacation and never came back. Another accidental move.
I had been squeezed in-between the palms of each coast for high school (plopped in the midwest).
In Wisconsin, I popped like a pimple and broke some major skin. Tried to end my life a few times. Psych ward after psych ward. Pills. Pills. Pills! A nurse took me aside and said "i have hope for you" and it was the first time i felt seen. met hard drugs to replace the cutting- they felt like long lost friends. Easy to pick up.
And recovery was like feeling your face after a satisfying shaving... and not a scratch since.
Now gliding along the West Coast in Academia's matrix. Politics and community engagement and the center. Clean. In the Heart of the City. Biking with helmets. Shoebox studio apartments. Nose in book, nose in food. Day job with a class of kids who I love and who love me. Space to grow, assess, reshape. Optimism. Peace. Stability.
wordvango Jul 2018
the  bitter wilt on droopy petals  when yesterday
her tilt was to the sun strong as stems
could rise her sweet beauty to the skies
holding lips and arms and blossoms open
long enough for the breeze to romance
the nearest bee into a trance
is like the circle or a dance
of life that glances knowingly back
with wry amusement a sly smile glance
saying told you so  so many times
you should have known by now,
old friend of mine,
time is really nothing
but your
foe.
Jayn Doe Feb 6
I wake up hungry every night I spend without you.
My heart contracts like my stomach
pulling deeper into itself trying to form around you.

But you're not there
and I am left sleepless and starving
for your affection, your touch, and
your heartbeat below my ear.

I fear one day you'll forget
that your name is tattooed on my mouth
and that my hands were made to fit yours.
As soon as the words leave my lips,
I feel the need to tell you again…

I love you.
MJL Mar 27
You can’t die if they can’t find you
Quick, hide in here


© 2019 MJL
Supporting a loved one who is dying. Humor goes to strange places. If only...
West, the setting sun reflects
gold onto the under sides of
the white clouds to the north.
Bouncing yellow light down
onto the valley floor.

A pleasant Spring day
gives way to evening shade.
With the approach of night,
whispers of breeze invade
the peaceful scene.

Quickening breezes turn
to wind, laying a coat of
goose bumps upon my
neck and skin.

Reminding that affable days
of mild spring, can fast foster
harbingers of the remains of
winter's chill breath,

From upon my porch I retreat,
inside to build a fire to still the
winds chill and brew some tea,
Listen to some soothing tunes,
while embraced by the warmth
of the hearth and fire.
Another moment in time
recorded.
Yenson Feb 18
Quick create another identity
he's got to get more for his trolling
He's getting confused now
created so many
he's losing count
can't even remember his tag
is it a or is it p
it is both or one
oh heck
he's such a schmuck

Well he's a coward
unfulfilled and can only get any lift
from trolling
so don't judge him
he's a coward, a sad inadequate bully
nothing better to do
an ape without an e....mail
a troll coward of no importance
that's all
Alyssa Underwood Aug 2018
We're forced, each man, to walk a trialed path—
resisted trek, uphill through blinding daze
that shrouds with crucible's perplexing haze
till fog-white skies yield quick to black clouds' wrath.
Affliction brims a thorny pack to bear
whilst dewy darkness drenches in the night,
but where is calming lamp to lend us sight?
And who will come to give us saving care?
Here through veil is heard a whisper certain,
then o'er the mountain creeps the dawning day
and with clear eyes we see the brume give way
as God retracts His theatre's curtain,
unsheathing velvet waves whose morning sheen
beyond grey mist splays vast and wondrous green.
~~~

"I will exalt You, LORD,
    for You lifted me out of the depths
    and did not let my enemies gloat over me.
LORD my God, I called to You for help,
    and You healed me.
You, LORD, brought me up from the realm of the dead;
    You spared me from going down to the pit.
Sing the praises of the LORD, you His faithful people;
    praise His holy name.
For His anger lasts only a moment,
    but His favor lasts a lifetime;
weeping may stay for the night,
    but rejoicing comes in the morning.
When I felt secure, I said,
    'I will never be shaken.'
LORD, when You favored me,
    You made my royal mountain stand firm;
but when You hid Your face,
    I was dismayed.
To You, LORD, I called;
    to the Lord I cried for mercy:
'What is gained if I am silenced,
    if I go down to the pit?
Will the dust praise You?
    Will it proclaim Your faithfulness?
Hear, LORD, and be merciful to me;
    LORD, be my help.'
You turned my wailing into dancing;
    You removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy,
that my heart may sing Your praises and not be silent.
    LORD my God, I will praise You forever."

~ Psalm 30

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/1464179/the-beauty-behind-the-fog/
Little Azaleah Sep 2018
that fleeting feeling of fluttering butterflies
as they caught your attention
in that short moment of walking by,
in that short moment of seeing eyes
like the short moment of waves kissing land.
your thoughts momentarily filled with the "what ifs"
"what would it be like"
"how your life will be like"
Oh, what an innocent feeling that is.
those moments before knowing a person.

{ e.i }
who cares anyway Jun 2018
for what i know a
feeling that turns you
frightend and glum
for thinking too much

every single time
enourmos because i allow it to
enlarge to an
expansion that now creates what this is

about
always present and has a talent for
appaearing when there’s nothing but urge
and seek

reverence and dread
rushing through my body
right now
right here:

fear.
honestly one of my favourite feelings.
the things people are willing to do and achieve because of fear is truly and absolutely thrilling.

it lies within every single soul
and is the one true thing that connects us.
because a human basically acts on fear.
think about it.
example:
why are you nice to people in the first place?
well, probably because your mother or father or anybody taught you as a child, but did they do it without fearing you of something? of people rejecting you when you act rude, or did those people do it themselves? are you afraid of karma? or the opinion of others?
it doesn‘t really matter.

everything you do
is somehow based on fear.
fear you once felt.
fear that is still so painfully present.
fear lurking on the horizon of the future
or even the fear of fear.
agree?
My words,
   Aren't necessarily,
An accurate idea,
   Of who,
I really am.
   They are more,
Expressions of what,
   I don't want to be.


~Robert van Lingen
TBDutton Jan 19
A quick hit.
Ya get your fix.
Slip inside.
Goodbye.
Khoi-San Aug 2018
Well after the wingman had left
I sang along to the seductive tune
that subtly fountained
A wanton void in my libido
Blindsided by the deceit of my own desires
I had succumbed
His passion was explicit
Mind blowing
Abandoned and exposed
I have fallen for a one night stand
And flailed upon quick sulking sand
You can't hurry love
de Negre Sep 2018
somber bomber i like ducks
we dont love the gov it *****

(my friend erin said the ****?)
i did arrands rode the truck

the trip i flipped and made a sound
i skipped a bit and saw a hound

sorry pa he saw the mess
the current system likes to test

they see how fast and smart we are
so we can crash and part a car

there is no point to living now
maybe cause'
i was never
taught
how.
greeeeeeeetings amigos welcome to our new program #quickie3 yeeeeeee
rgz Mar 23
I can give you sunshine during the darkest storm
liquorice words form on my tongue
whispering impossible secrets to keep you warm

I can make you feel precious as knowledge to scholars
with lines cheaper than pesos
that sound like a million dollars

I can shine a light from the milky way
filling you with the warmest glow
from a distance, cold
unattainable and far away

I can give you paris without setting foot there
the door behind my teeth
opens wide to reveal
l'esprit d'escalier

I can make you take every misstep with me
guiding you with my silver tongue
weighty to hold
burdens untold
but all too willing to come undone

I can make you feel
but only when I feel like it
I get bored
so don't get used to it
CK Baker Apr 2017
Sunday sermons are spilling on the inner city streets
through the green heaps and brown bags
through the downtown whisperers
and sage solitude souls

Army bands prepare for march
their trench members filling packs with canister and cane
the high command and tricked militia head pinned
quick on the look for splinter, lorry and skuttle

Traffic patterns change at the COP connect
camouflage bearers break formal stride
battle men slip between colorful floats
unsuspecting slumlords (vein pricked and weary)
grin in their second suite dying rooms

Twitching men and rubbernecks
sit discreetly on the corner wall
JJ and the chief revere a 21 gun salute
holy rollers raise cheer (in a moment of silence)
chess men hold steady
with ivory cues

Flames belt from the distant foundry
streets come alive with crackle and dust
members of the attic group glance down from a glorified perch
the elderly man in a straight jacket (happy in the now)
sits solemnly in a cold reflective stare

It’s not far from the steely mud holes
from the flying fragments and pierced broken dreams
from the arsenal digs and madmen (who quietly turned the *****)
the ivy trellis
and flowing white gown
is a nocturne fit
for this elevated rolling highland
I torment the salt of the earth,

~"Who am I?"~

Eat up the children from unholy birth,

~"Who am I?"~

The ravens caw and come to pick,

~"Who am I?"~

Off woeful ones that I've made sick,

~"Who am I?"~

See travelers on the road of pain,

~"Who am I?"~

Rider on the clouds drive you insane,

~"Who am I?"~

I'm coming for you, I'm coming quick,

~"Who am I?"~

My art deception, my craft, -the trick...

~...Anatu...~
The Sumerian storm god was a goddess adopted by the Hebrews as, "Lilith," or in the original, "Li-Li-Tu." She was part of a cadre of evil sky spirits who could manifest themselves inside animals and humans and due to some ancient wrong were particularly found of killing or making suffer; men and male babies. She was considered a daytime goddess and her thundering storms gave her the epithet, "Rider on the clouds." She is related to the Greek Artemis(as a huntress), Phoenician Astarte, Ishtar, Hebrew Lilith, Sumerian Anatu, Egyptian Anit, Aryan Tiamat, the Hindu Devas and the prototype for ritual witchcraft. She was a completely evil character.

Tu is action, Ana is sky so her name represents the ACTIONS of the SKY!
Amoy 7d
gravitational pull
falling debris
water escaping sand
it loosens at my feet, it's only an illusion
slowly I sink wondering when will I float
Mena Mulugeta Jul 2018
It’s deeper than that.
It’s deeper than the ocean.
It’s this feeling I can’t bare
My heart thumping so quick

Adrenaline rush when I heard the
Words that you were gone.
Altitude is so high I can’t even cry
12 Empire State buildings tall and
I still really couldn’t reach my soul
My emotions overpowering many things
Wishing you were here.

Wishing there was a golden stairway to heaven
I would climb milestones just to hear your voice.
I wish I could come up home,
and sit down just to see your reflection.

You’re shining brightly
with flashes of light
looking like an Angel
I feel your presence
  things are unreal
  Time is not ours
Forever you will be in my heart.
May you beautiful souls Rest In Peace
Traversing my minefields,
   Is an impossible task,
Find another way around,
   So that you don't get hurt,
Because that would be sad.
  
I don't want to make you sad.
Was part of I Am Not but i decided  to split them into two independent pieces.
L B Jul 2018
For my cousin, Chris Goldrick

Lacing my skates
after walking two miles
in girl-strictured delight
Mom's stories of Sonja Henie--
No, not ever

Lacing my skates
with  snow-ball pompoms
felt skirt
and nylon tights
Cute little hat with matching scarf
My thighs and fingers
already freezing
icy burn
from miles on foot

to get there
the lake where--

I must get out
I must get OUT!

Knowing what
to expect from my body
the quick-twitch of muscle
Could always sense
specific--
gravity of water    
at 22 degrees

Desiring to feel
the motion between ice and steel
Read speed's vibrations through my body
The brain registers relation
to weather's effect
Tell of velocity
possibility of fall
Feel the slash of the blades beneath me
Throw my weight sideways, sudden
to hear that furious hiss
An object in motion tending, dire
to stay in motion

Threatening to stay there
always
in its heights-- of speed
away--

from the crowds of skaters
swirling distant in the lights

Seeking instead
the farthest reaches of Porter Lake
speed and speed and more
to overcome
inertia
of what it is to become
undone

at the outer edges, of humanity
A force  
centrifugal unto myself

Avoiding

Pregnant and slow
with years and babes....

The best
must be broken and tamed
of what it takes to stay free

catching the edges with every stride
catching my toe in the quick
180
spray of frost
to the sudden still

Listen to the frigid chill

and the heave of my breath
tumbling into evidence

Gliding
Once

Forever--

on, into darkness
of woods on frozen water

The wildness of it all

So infatuated with flight
so full of grace

I forgot Sonja

The moon rose
from her seat in the treetops
and applauded
Wrote this immediately from a dream a couple months ago.  With all the heat and humidity, it sounded good to go today.

This dream was an actual relived memory of being 12 years old and skating at Porter Lake in Forest Park of Springfield, Massachusetts.  22 degrees F is minus 5.5 C --Just a reference
Iz Nov 2018
I feel like a fraud
I spend my whole life phoning it in
I take in the information
But I put out nothing
I wonder why I’ve been stuck in
The same place for years now
But I’ve done nothing to move
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