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Sam Hawkins Jul 2018
Dare to live.
Stop insisting on chasing after death.
Stop trying to die.

Quit the grand illusion.
You shall never die.

Grow your wings and fly to the mountaintop
of your world.  Breathe stars.
Bravely go alone. Only you can do this.

Regularly in your day--exercise conviction.
Visualize Stars, the Sun.

Golden, fibrous threads
of starlight, of sunlight --

take them in through the nostrils.

This is nothing less than
soul's power-fuel.

Inhale slowly and experience
the gentle music of love's fire,
as flames would pull up
a chimney stack, up pipes of ovens.

Faith builds with such breath practice.

Greed cooked transformed.
Anger put to sleep.

Ignorance surrendering
to ways of knowing.

Prepare that your purpose
shall speak to you.

Breathe starlight.

Are you surprised
that you feel no heat?

Your unique timelessness
awaits your recognition.
karin naude May 2013
few people are honest enough
to admit the gremlin at the door
clawing at the edge of the door
threatening to escape and reveal the truth
this is the day i dread every year
dad's birthday
easy for others to do the right thing
how to keep showing respect when you get dis-respected regularly
a true test of character
this is the liar my mother fell in love with
that ultimately betrayed her unto death
i wish divorce was possible
Alan S Bailey Sep 2018
It doesn't really change anything,
regularly I would despise the work of this poem,
the sight of blank paper is easy to fill,
but it's such a pain when at a pointless window sill.

I vaguely recall when I lived in joy,
Now people see me I'm lost in my thoughts,
Everyone thinks that I don't want to listen,
But the truth is that money has always been my problem.
I know this is not a fun poem, but I may one day find reason to express  my happy time feelings sometime soon
sweet jesus
life is outrageous
listless alligators
try to upstage this
drift from forms
to formless sages
residual wages
furnishing your cages
threadbare leather workers
raid our refrigerators
rage is impulsive
sullen lisps and swollen lips
frame our faceless daughters
in their water glasses
houses of hunted howling
hourglasses
dreamcatchers and dancers
humongous lanterns
burning pages
place-mats
on your dinner tables
why do they feel so out of place
is it the way we are made
have you any
doubts about your origins
what is the worst
thing you’ve ever faced
are you exposed
to typos regularly
tokens of penmanship
and fraternity hazings
hostelries and banquets
growth is dependent
only on intangible quotients
Carter Ginter Jan 15
Heavy, my chest feels
But not my heart
Its light as lettuce
So light in fact
That it races through these minutes
Like the wind makes it beat
I feel weighed down and weightless
This anxiety is engulfing
But it's based in insecurity
So in reality
I've got more control than I feel I do
You were with them late and
I am fully aware that my mind
Is regularly the dramatic type that
Likes to believe you two are
Making up and hugging it out
Which would be great actually
If my brain didn't tell me you were also
Falling in love
It's so silly to say aloud
And if I would just trust in your love and your word
And believe in my own worth
Then my screenplay writing mind
Wouldn't feel so suffocating
And my chest and my heart
Could fall back into automatic existence
And maybe I could sleep
I know it's irrational. I'm working on addressing my own insecurities, because that's where jealousy comes from, and there's nothing you could tell me to make me feel better. I've got to do this myself.
Nat Lipstadt May 2015
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities...

that's all any man wants,
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities,
who knows the when and why of differing
cuddling styles...

a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities,
who knows when to leave a man alone
alone in his man-mourning time,
distance needed,
letting his ex-rage dissipate or
watching his red and blue football
redefine ignominy...

a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities,
that when the man low whistles, eyes adrift,
she heartily agrees and is
reciprocity rewarded regularly
with hunk alerts of
"hey-check-him-out!"

that's all any man wants,
a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities,
a tigress in the bedroom
she asking, try this, I'll love it,
served with a desert demo of awkward afterward,
his less-than-perfect cuddling abilities

a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities,
who doesn't abhor partner silences,
comforting they are, in their own ways,
lying side by side, interrupted only by peccadillo body noises unexpected and
sheepish apologies and loving arm stroking

a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities,
who lets the man roar, top of voice,
when imprisoned in car,  
his voice, un enfant terrible,
performs with Creedence Clearwater
a sing-a-long in traffic, asking
"Have you ever seen the rain"
while amidst Israel-leaving-Egypt
Sunday beach traffic on the L.I.E.

a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities,
when it's pheromones  alternative mode day,
he celebrates Carole King day,
she demonstrates her cuddling abilities,
par excellence, with kisses and tissues

a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities...

a woman, plain confident in her abilities
no matter the situational status,
when confronted by
less-than-crazy-impetuous,
she smiling says "why not,"
when he proposes,
a movie and dinner in a fav haunt?
"plenty excellent enough" her answer,
spoke in a rising voice
full of unfeigned delight

a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities,
accepting the unexpected airport embrace
on a moving sidewalk, unexpected delays
with the aplomb of a well lived life's
long term sustainability perspective

when he kisses her hand for no reason,
while driving 75 miles per hour,
she only winces internally,
the other hand vise-grasping
the other door's handle,
who brushes hair wisps in a dark movie,
celebrating her Bathsheba Everdeen's
duality of strength and tenderness

a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities,
that when on second date he proposes
a non-exclusive relationship,
confident enough to high-five respond,
and laugh about it,
seven years on

a woman, confident in her cuddling abilities,
that when she reads it,
analyzing the oeuvre as
"too **** personal and
as usual
too **** long"



that's all any man wants,
a woman, confident in her
cuddling abilities
in everything...
even a little occasional criticism
Entirely fictional, of course.

L.I.E. is the Lomg Island Expressway, a/k/a, the longest parking lot in the world.
Red and blue football team, the NY Giants.
Bathsheba Everdeen from Hardy's "Far From the Madding Crowd."
Alternate song choice, the Eagkes "Take It Easy."

Inspired by this:
http://www.nytimes.com/2015/05/10/style/modern-love-tinder-swiping-right-but-staying-put.html?rref=collection%2Fcolumn%2Fmodern-love&contentCollection;=style&action;=click&module;=NextInCollection®ion;=Footer&pgtype;=article
multi sumus Nov 2018
Please excuse the delinquency of this introduction

Our reluctance
             to the judgements
                        of the agents
                                   of destruction

We wanted to write a few prose so those who chose could be gathering from it

The assumption
              there is something
                               an insight
                                      or deduction

And while concidering the possible repercussions We might be facing

The presentation
        this present state in
                   which the statements
                               press mentation

We're sure to procure closure in the vulnerable over exposure

with exhorted
               supplications
                              by esoteric
         ­                                revelations
                               
In the beginning lets just start with a na-ame

                   Multi Sumus
                 "We Are Many"
          All of one and the sa-ame  

                environmental
                     incidental
       so there's no ONE to bla-ame

                  Amalgamated
                   Complicated
      yet We're feeling no sha-ame


   Cursed with this blessing by the charts of Our births

    Compounded by experience throughout the time on this earth

   Situation realization through extensive research

                  Ameliorating
                   Emendating
          till returned to the dirt


               So it's obvious
              there's lots of Us
                      Innocuous
                 We promise this
                 with confidence

influencingcongruent  
                          confluence
               of the congregants
              by this augmented
                           auspicious
                           cognizance

                           auspices
                             operable
    in Our neurological
                       acropolis

                        
 Okay, now that We have your um "unndivided" attention

The ****** descention intentional

With potential illicit material

Exotic content individuals

Unequivocal extreme of the
physical

Inciting the violence eventual

With depraved images into the temporal


  And just when you thought We couldnt exacerbate this already exasperating elaborate facade

  Now We have you fascinated thinking We're ******* to The Marque De Sade!

Post deliberation- Psychopathia Sexualis as bed time stories was kind of odd

But The Kama Sutras' pages had hastened degradation from where they'd been gnawed!

   There were a few more things we want to sit down and talk about

Like the fact that We're actually celibate
The distain for institutionalised education
and dropping out

Thats alot of intimate information
  "How could We ever let this happen?"

To be honest We're just honored to give some fodder for your defamation of character cannon!
 
  So before you begin your rapacious onslaught of malevolent inspection!

   We've already detected all the things that's presumed you've currently rejected!

   With proverbial red pen in hand you've commenced your conceited correcting!

   And your futile fervent attempt, in leaving Us feeling extremely dejected!

   your annoyance with the performance of deforming poetic normalcy

The convulsive compulsions of the expulsions of the compulsory

            Conclusions include:
                 Literal assault
                          and
                Literary battery

And cleaning from the cathodes This convoluted corrosion of conformity!


    Without trying to sound hostile
                          though it's possible
                                   that a hospital
        istheonlyinstitutionthatcan
                    ­                    jostle those
                                              illogical
   ­                    pre con ceived
               fossilisedmisconceptions

                       ­ All the while though

your just seeking attention for the aforementioned


Alright, Well We're not gonnna be a denying it

because We're constantly being reminded of

rhyming with defiant defining an

the metre maids retirement  

"She's been lying?!"
                    "Oh Geez!
                           She's fired then!"

cause its trying-trying to inspire realigning the tongue from relying on tying to find it!

        
      Gerunds are whoreable!

         /'speliNGz/ deplorable!

scriptioscripturascriptacontinua!...
"?"

(n)irony{8}>(adj)ironic+suffixally

(adv)       Ironically      {8}{3}­   (adj)         moral!          [3]|B2|
(adv)    Rhetorical­              [2a]
(adv)        ******!                   [1]

{dictionary.com}[merriamwebster]
|cambridge dictionary|

nunciatesinuateunctuateunciate!...
"There is no way We c"


   With atrocious verboseness
   who'd notice the odious?!

"We are not! gonna stan"

     01000001 01100100
        01110110 01010000!...

"Wait! i dont th"


   yllacitammarg cihpromanA
    tor/sion/ed          /vern/acular!

             ^                       ^
  CUL/t u r/AL PER/spect/IVE•

  <PECULIAR {2}  [] [] {}{}  L•VE>

"UughH!"¡"UughH!"¡"UughH!"
"STOP!
              STop!

(adj)[1:2a]    stop! Wha' what are you doing?!"
".."
"No no, you get offof there!"
-(motioning with finger)
"And you two! Mmf!"
-(shaking head upwards)
           "~" "~"
"Don't use that tone with me!"
                "="
"Alright then"        
-(stern nod)
-(salaci•us grin while smacking both bottoms as walking past ;)

(adj)[1]
"Now what do you think your doing?"
-(quickly turning towards other)
"……,…"
"Rreally?"
"……!.."
"And how is that helpful?"
-(crossing arms)
"….-¿lol"
"Did i ask you fo?"
"…..-~¿"
"And you are entitled" "¡" "to" "¡" "your" "¡" "•pinion."
"…!"
"i understand, yes"
"…;~
!"
"Yes"
"~#"
"YES!"
-(opening arms)
"just talk WITH Us about these issues."
-(hand on shoulder)

(n){8}{9}
"……"
"No fret, May We continue?"
"!"
"Go•d"
"!"
"Now, Would you be so kind?"
-(gesturing towards player)
".."
"thank you."
-(humble nod)
"…,……^?"
"They wouldn't be able hear it anyway"
"?"
-(shaking head downward closing eyes)

               "Because it is written"
                              

     (We now return you to the
    regularly scheduled program
            already in progress
)
                              

…attenuating circumstance by objectionable technical difficulties


  Continually conjugating with;        
intellectually
infectional
inflectional
abilities

    But these consensual;
contemptually
abjectionable
contextual
similes

   has Us postulating that with;
exceptionally
inceptional
correctional
humilities

   there's a deduction exponentially of;
potentially
subjectionable
conjectural
tendencies


  We're very much obliged that you would grace us with your presence
   in essence
   it's evident
you take precedence
being prevalent
   and the
relevance of your acceptance
to Our all exclusive
    intrusive collusion
is proving profusely
  that the astute
  can irrefutably
elude the obtuses'
       rebuking


And although We're not looking
                           for
                    justification
                just in case then
               the arrangement
             with it's placement
                   of degrading
                     statements
                        ajacent
                   ­       to the
                         blatent
                    and flagrant
                   abnormalities
                 with the falacies
                 of formalities in
                    a-all actuality
                     being valid
                         via the
                      vehement
                           and
                      venenated
                      vituper­ate
                       veracities

  And just so you know the list of pressumptions is deliberately
unexhaustive
At the cost of
your responses
involving constant devolving nonsense
in the comments
on the contents
full of copious despondent obstinance
But as optimists
Our only option is
hopes that it's the conglomerate
your being honest with

                 And please,
                     We ask,
         That you use your true profile when you begin your posting

  That we can ALL see the blood of a "real" poets muse
            flow from the pen

                  So in closing...

Next time you make the
           decision to visit them
             with your insolence

                 machiavellist
            hypercritical cynic,
               Remembering a

            six minute version
          "authority" usurption
               deserving by an

                              •

                    Uneducated
       Mental Fragmental Eunich
                   Eunoterpsian

          
           Filling your head with
     thoughts you wish to jetison
              by suggestions of

              ingestions with a
     taste of your own medicine!
        When you rest your head

          sugar plums won't be
    dancing, substantial chances
            you will be glancing

          a couple more times,
          We hear repetition is
             good for a growing

                             •

         Mind you that We left
         easter eggs to quantify
            attendance, intense

                attention on Us
      at least you will be leaving
               the others alone

             We just wanted to
           take this opportunity
                            to cast the first stone.
Donatien Alphonse François
  Marquis de Sade
1740-1814

Psychopathia Sexualis (Psychopathy of ***), by Richard Freiherr von Krafft-Ebing, 1886

The Kama Sutra (/ˈkɑːmə ˈsuːtrə/; Sanskrit: कामसूत्र  is an ancient Indian Hindu writing by Vātsyāyana
400 BCE-200CE

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/3099453/first-stone-ode-to-trolls-extrapolated-i/

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/3099476/first-stone-ode-to-trolls-extrapolated-ii/
Kanishka May 17
I'm not good at being young,
I'm not beaming with life,
I'm regularly petrified of being old
And accepting it all with my withering lung.
What if my existence is a failure?
Jaslin Goh Jul 2017
Windows high or low, windows sing or woe (if they could effect sounds)
Windows are protestants of peace; often the mediator between the inside and the out
They tirelessly shield us from the rain and sun, the dust and even noise, sometimes the wind itself too; so things don't topple over
There are times you open them, when you look out and think of an adventure out
There are also times you close them, when you seek some respite
Windows, if anything, are the forgotten heroes of time
They are your guides, your decision-making helpers, as is the Spirit
Their panes (pains) are to be taken care of, wiped regularly for absolute clarity
They nudge, with the help of wind sometimes, dying not to be ignored
They crave interaction with its user, oh if only our owners knew they cry
Knowing how to operate them for full utilisation is truly, a skill
Notes on the Holy Spirit
Carter Ginter Jan 2018
I'm not the best at listening
I'm even worse at talking
Even texting is impossible these days
But poetry comes from my soul
What I fail to express regularly
Flows so easily through this medium
If you feel the same then maybe that's why we do this
It feels like a game
And maybe it appeals to the kids within us
A serious, lighthearted way to communicate
That also pushes us to write more
We were always good at testing each other

As for the memory of pancakes
I remember it a bit differently
You were trying to hold back tears
And I remained passive and cold
It's not a thought I enjoy revisiting
That entire weekend was a challenge
We pushed each other to the edge
Waiting to see who'd fall first
Clearly it was me

I was wrong in so many ways
I know that better than anyone
And maybe I should've waited
I shouldn't have left so long
But I wasn't in bed with another
I was trying to sober up enough to get home safely
Sure it was a bit excessive in time
And I'm sorry I made you wait so long
But I was a drunk mess and I couldn't get home that way

I didn't mean to take advantage of you
I didn't mean to hurt you
Obviously, I did
And still do I'm sure
But those were never my intentions
I do care for you
It's all very complicated and stressful
I wish I could make it easier for us both
But I don't haven't figured out how yet
Last one before work
refresh mesh Mar 2018
nobody likes the full name.
the class is known simply as "Cell."
stephen king is just as lazy with his titles.
that fool fears blood.

i was listening to rain washing out the gutters
when our teacher called on me,
asking me to explain in my own words:
"How is molecular transportation so highly organized?"
i posited that organelles are not organized.
they are only civilized:
self-governed by apoptosis and a blueprint of proximal culture,
their manuals inefficient, but honed for cooperation through trial and error.
"I'm predisposed to disagree," he said with a tangible glee.
knowing we all adore his berating honesty.
his question stuck with me.
perhaps because i was working
for the office of sustainability
becoming regularly incapacitated
by the shame and exhaustion of preaching.
leading an uprising through the power of teaching.
i decided the only organized transportation
is an axial conduit to the electorate's war,
always social and hierarchal
because that's what culture is for.
at 19 i was loaded up with a sticky elixir
to be protected from being called a *****.
i will never forget how I spotted lightly for three days
-stopped for one week-
and then for two straight months, it was a downpour.

we are only tearing apart the bitty ants
and there is still blood on our hands.

i believe blood looks best on our hands.
but we were taught to meticulously detach
and to prepare our matching bargains
beneath the atmosphere's volatile dance.
poison is in the body and the air
ready to be bottled and batched.
even when i find my friends
whole and happy in France,
my key stays clotted in the latch.
birth control, women's health, world war
Nat Lipstadt Jan 2018
I Am that I Am (אֶהְיֶה אֲשֶׁר אֶהְיֶה‬ ’ehyeh ’ăšer ’ehyeh)

for Eléa

the requests are assiduous, regularly arrivaling, some shy,  
some heinous demanding and denouncing,
inquisitors inquisiting this revelation,
as if it could be bought in a Five and Dime,
with a childlike whining insistence

just  exactly who are you?

this is not my name above,
but one of seventy the Father gave himself

He named me in a fit of efficacy and whimsy and in and from, a fit of a deep veined mystery

You Raise Me Up

all this on the ****** side of corny, and would not blame you
if you moved on…

so nominated in honor of my mission, to travel with you in
all the travails that ail,
to raise you up to raise me up and thus salve the universe's cracks,
fill the crevices and the ****** scars invisible,
with the precise refreshment that make my life,
a slave to your thankfulness

I am the wetness of a mother’s lips upon
a thin red tear on a child’s skin,
I am the the rock hard father’s shoulders grasped by a child’s arms, the child does yet understand that human is illusion,
human is human, however strong,
it is the allusion of human limitations
that is our magical

I am the present re-borning come with a morning glory,
the time when the Am and the Pm  future merge in a name
without tense,
past present and what I may be is simply what
I am

when the past is but another sky bright star, untouchable,
but winking at you, to you personally

I am the touch of the untouchable,
a messenger commissioned to remind you when
the reminders are too far apart,
or even too close
and thus make a breathing space
in between for the living and the missing

I am the
no difference
between a newborn’s soft skin cells
relentless multiplying,
that offers the same precise sensation of the
grandmother’s delightful wrinkling cells of smiles of her
relentless dying,
for all, one and the same,
the child in her is you, baby

I am the fall before the rise, the first that defines the last,
the standard, once obtained, nevermore unobtainable

I am the first fruit of the summer,
a tongue blossom, a burst of memory, always recalled,
always the same, that begs for forgiveness for there are no
new words to describe the profound finding of the
simple pleasures that sustains the blessing over all things new that
are recurring and truly
renewable (shehechayanu)

I am the crinkle in the eye, the one that hides in the fine lines
and upon the lips,
when you purchase the hope however fleeting of a
$2 Powerball ticket,
the very same hope preserved when you laugh when you lose,
for there is contentment in knowing one may hope spring eternal,
yet again in a finite
three more days for and too another lousy two bucks fantasia

I am the ruse of happy satisfaction of a man
in the dark of alone at home,
staring at his sizeable bank balance
and the happy knowledge that its loss  it will make it greater someday when it  happy converted to memories and photos that  are worth a thousand times its multiplicity
if only,
or when,
he knows how

I am that pain in the left side of your red sea-parted soul that cannot be dismissed but is religiously ignored,
that you alone know of
due to its persistent existence, and because it is just tolerable,
it is a sad but comforting pain,
an acknowledgment that a companion travels with you
and that in someway is ok and you exist

I am the water on the night table that extinguishes the dry throat of recurring visions in eyes that always end badly
and make the bed’s welcome a fearful thing,
which is a fearful thing for in good sleep is the
re-naissance and re-formation and the salvation
that was given to you as a gift inside thy mother’s womb,
and that
it is I,
whispering the hum of easy soft lambs,
soft breathing you
unto welcoming rest

I am the poem that must end because of our
frailties and impatience to live in
the reality of human touch,
that must be put aside for any novocaine of words

I am the one who can only be alive
when he raises you up and
you begin a new poem all your own,
and then exit it too, willingly,
to embrace the raising up of living

and that is the
who I am
that I am
raising us up
i.

i forgive myself regularly for
walking off the cliff of self doubt
and anthropomorphizing the scenery
watch me fail with words to improve perfection

ii.

in geologic layers hues
are stacked like pancakes
where people plodded
this granite empire as
Australopithecines

busy restarting fires
making babies, and
Sherpa-ing objects of survival
on their spines too alive to
feel the vague pain of existence
with that backdrop


Sara Fielder © June 2019
Abhishek kumar Sep 2018
How do you expect her,
Not to get wet
While standing in rain
Not to burn
When walking in flame
Not to feel pain
When getting hurt everyday
Not to break
When regularly being corroded
Not to react
While facing maltreatment
Not to rebel
After suffering years in hell


How do you expect her
To apologize
When you have made the mistake
To forgive
When your acts were full of abuses
To be healed
When scars stretch from head to heel
To recover
From the heartaches daily delivered
To be normal
After witnessing acts  of evil
To be well
While being with a person like devil
Ghostfeather Aug 12
I was carrying the wind, beneath a wing.
Attached to another being; wasn't that the strangest thing,
which flew regularly from the earth to the skies...
I slowed its descent, and lifted it up again, to the highs.

Every time we left the land below,
another one of us would appear, with a fainted glow,
and the wing would look like a cloud swole with rain
until at last, it had become whole again.

Once that happened, the being dissolved in light,
along with every other feather, burning oh so bright;
alone I floated down, where another being I will meet,
give them a wing, so that someday again, I will be complete.
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