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Allyvia Jan 2020
Greedy, ***** little body

Hungrily swallowing down

every touch, every kiss.

Still always asking for more.



Addled brain

Flooded with the syrup of arousal.

Logic giving up the ghost

to pleasure and gluttony.



Reasoning tries to speak.

Gags and silences on

Spoonfuls of dopamine -

Made an addict.



Such a **** for trust and words

Easily retraining from one man to the next

Soon enough these hands

craving to hold this new interest

remembering fondly the previous ones.
SøułSurvivør Jun 2017
I have been grumbling
And complaining
I haven't thanked
The One sustaining
All my needs
The One restraining
Worse events
Than I'm retaining
I'm in need of
Some retraining

He is waiting
He is listening
For grateful heartstrings
Moist and glistening
For something He
Has seldom heard
A chord of thanks
In spoken word

Let us poets, as a crowd
Speak our thanks
Right out loud!
Of course, my friends,
You have a choice,
But read this poem
With your voice!

I'm grateful God
That You're there
I'm grateful I can
Breathe the air...

I'm grateful that
You made a tree
I'm grateful for
Our poetry
I'm grateful i have
Eyes to read
The inspiration
That i need...

I'm grateful i can
Take a drink
No muck and mire
For to sink
No sewage that
Brings death
And stink

That I have a
Mind to think
...

I'm grateful that
There's food to eat
No mud cookies
For my meat
I have a roof
I have a seat
I have shoes
Upon my feet...

I'm grateful,
Though there's
Pain and strife
I have this chance...
... for a good life!


There! You've READ IT!
All the while
Jesus listened...

*... and He smiled!
I'm not going to preach... much.

Haitian children were observed
Making mud cookies...
... and EATING THEM.

Even in the U.S. (Flint, Michigan)
The right of having clean
Drinking water was taken away!

We (I) have a LOT to be
Grateful for!

I'm going to visit
my father today. God willing
I can read tonight.

I want to thank all
My faithful readers...

♡♡ I'm grateful for you! ♡♡
Spooky Babe Jul 2017
I don't know what I'd do without you
It's like retraining myself how to breath
Or simply how to even live, yes that too
Never again could I do such with ease

Some may think I'm blinded and crazy
To chase a boy who doesn't want to be saved
And **** perhaps I am, it's a possibility
But my heart is one thing you can't persuade

I like to rush over just to be with you
And then take it slow once I get there
But life crashes down with what we once knew
The way you get treated just isn't fair

I've seen that golden light in your eyes
I swear there's flowers blooming inside
When **** hits the fan I'm the one who cries
Because then you're X and piece of me dies

You always claim that I deserve more
Yet in my eyes, you constantly satisfy me
Talk is cheap, and words are a bore
Try to get rid of me when we're both in cali

*Let's say you do and one day we part
I swear I'll never find another like you
You'll always have a special place in my heart
Once you realize I'm one hit me up, let's "take 2"
endlessly written for the loml. July 6, 2017
Disclaimer: "X" is the dark side of the boy I love
The part with the slanted text indicates the alternate ending. It's not necessary but I added it anyways
Jeremy Betts Sep 14
This mangled heart of mine
I've had to start retraining
Teaching it to feel once more
Encouraging it to love
Without replacing the core
Stop keeping score
Don't forget player one
That character
Looking back from the mirror
No need to fear the next beat
More than the one before
Reassuring we'll find the shore
We still have one oar
Emphasizing no two moments are identical
Learn from the past,
Accept what's in-store
Hurt stops at nothing
But look how far you've made it while sore
Battles have been lost
But make sure
To stand tall amidst the war
Don't be your own saboteur

©2024
Del Maximo Sep 2016
the boy could sing
even took professional instruction
was told he had a beautiful voice
by singers he respected and admired
and he knew how to use it
he loved singing out load
choir or solo
songs or vocal exercises
emotional range and dynamics
full voice, in character
transporting him to joyful
but he seems to be losing it
progressive hearing loss
makes him unsure

gave away his guitar
chords smelled garbage-like
gave away his cello
he couldn’t hear her voice
but he kept the flutes
beautiful bamboo flutes
and shakuhachis
handcrafted by a magic man

he picked it up quickly
people thought he’d been paying for years
they would stop to listen
complimenting his clear tones
one professional flute player
heard him playin’ from ‘round the corner
came across the street to see
told him he played “whole heart and soul”

he only sings to himself now
voice is a body part
talent plays role
but body just knows how
to listen with ears
and repeat with voice or fingers
his ears no longer hit
on all cylinders
his hammer and anvil out of tune
he understands now
why Lucy couldn’t find her notes
they’re hiding somewhere
behind a brain cloud

the last one to hear him said
“you used to play so beautifully”
if it were just a matter
of fingers on holes
anyone could do it
but it’s something inexplicable
a mind/body gestalt
more spiritual then physical

he plays now to remember
go like this and that’s a ‘G’
go like this, that’s a ‘C’
reminding the body
retraining the brain
rebuilding the memory
refinding the fun
reclaiming the heart
© 09/01/2016
August Twenty Fifth

Avenue.
The sky with your family.
If we had more information.
More lies.

Without a vocal why.
I ask.
Words dying silent.
These minutes define a life sentence.

I stop.
Examine shoes.
Reveal to you.
Grave spectacle.
Tar soaked heel and sole.

Cities swallow.

Lies and *****.

Dyes of the month.

Years later, alleyways  beckons.
Skirts slid towards Hell.
Dull knife.
Reminding her to dive deep into royal gene pools.

Reminding her to avoid boys with boots.

Retraining my exhalation sacrifice.

Difference of four hundred thousand dollars.

It is this effort is too much.

Exhale.
Sky.
Boris Cho Nov 10
I’ve come to realize that the mind holds immense potential for healing, far more than we often acknowledge. Instead of searching for relief solely in external solutions, I’ve learned to turn inward, recognizing that the tools for managing pain, stress, and anxiety already exist within me. By consciously working with the mind and body, we can shift our experience of suffering and cultivate peace.

The breath is one of the most effective means of doing this. It serves as a direct link to the present, anchoring my awareness in the here and now. Through simple, controlled breathing, I can calm my nervous system and influence my subconscious mind. This process is not only about relaxation; it’s about retraining the mind to respond differently to stress and discomfort. With every mindful breath, I’ve gained a greater sense of control over my emotional and physical states.

Mindfulness is another critical practice. By observing my thoughts and emotions without immediately reacting to them, I’ve developed a new perspective on pain and stress. Rather than seeing these as threats to be resisted, I now view them as signals; indicators that something in me needs attention. Mindfulness allows me to approach these signals with curiosity and compassion, which can reduce their intensity and help me respond more thoughtfully.

In this process, meditation plays a key role. It gives me access to the deeper parts of my subconscious, where my past experiences and emotional patterns are stored. Through regular meditation, I’ve been able to reshape my responses to stress and pain, moving away from automatic reactions that increase suffering. Meditation has taught me that healing is a process of aligning the mind and body toward peace, not by force but through consistent, patient practice.

I no longer feel powerless in the face of external stressors. By focusing on my inner world; my thoughts, my breath, and my awareness; I’ve developed a sense of resilience that isn’t easily shaken by outside circumstances. Healing, I’ve learned, is an ongoing journey. Each day offers a new opportunity to practice these skills, to remind myself that while pain or anxiety may arise, I have the ability to transform how I experience them.



Each morning, I rise to greet the day,
Read words of wisdom, to light my way.
With visions clear, and actions aligned,
I center my soul, in peace I find.

Meditation whispers, “Be still, be strong,”
And in the silence, I belong.
Writing my truths, I set them free;
A life of growth, that belongs to me.

Afternoons slow, with a gentle breeze,
Books and thoughts, no need to please.
Turning off screens, I reclaim the hour,
In quiet moments, I find my power.

A podcast hums, a guiding sound,
New ideas grow, deep and profound.
As evening falls, I move and I breathe,
Walking the path where my heart is pleased.

With words once more, I let them flow,
A reflection of where I long to go.
In the stillness, I find my light,
And greet the peace that comes each night.

I promise to hold my routine with care,
To nourish my body, to breathe fresh air.
Move every day, let my muscles sing,
Phone set aside, to let nature ring.

Carry my camera, to capture the skies,
Saving each dollar, with mindful eyes.
Sober, present, embracing the new,
Writing forever, my heart’s truth in view.

In this journey, I grow and unfold,
A story of strength, resilience and bold.

— Sincerely, Boris
Jake Mar 2016
Drugs and alcohol never gave me the buzz I wanted them to.
But I'll keep taking them anyways.
Only because I want to.
I just don't want to feel like in order to play the keys or write out my mind.
Even if it means retraining myself to focus on something else.
Sometimes I wonder if I'd be a drunk like my father if I were anymore blind.
And I guess the answer is yes.
And I think now is the time to wake up from my rest.
Before I start to forget.
jeffrey conyers Aug 2015
Race retraining.
We won't admit it.
Hard for many to accept it.

During segregation one group felt strictly in charged.
With the rules in placed to make others races at their will.

Then the ruling of the Supreme Court came.
Then we start the events of society change.
With one beginning to run away.

In present news, we see white officers blazing negative through the news.
Then we saw hostility of them in the years of past decades too.
And none wants to admit the honest truth.

White male officers DON'T know how to handle conflicts with black males.
Which soon must be addressed sooner or later.
Truth lies here.
Even if those with blinders wants to deny it.

How many minority officers?
Do you see involved in conflicts of abuse or killings?
Then again, it's easier to avoid truth than to deal with it.

The white male feels their strength of power slipping away.
And with a weapon on their side they react in simple situation to quick sometimes.

Which you see on the news many of times.
And the story is the same.

Black male shot by an officer.
Then the race game begins to emerge.
And we say, here we go away.

Yes, some are at fault.
Then some aren't at all.
But truth be told many white males are weak when they don't have a gun.
Truth be told many are aware of this.

Many realize this even when a kid.
Then give anyone a weapon of power they begin to get brave.
Thinking they Clint Eastwood or maybe John Wayne.

Still the story is the same.
afteryourimbaud Apr 2020
I am fixing the racetrack
where all the thoughts there
have turned black,

reclaiming my isolated dignity
retraining every part of thoughts
connecting every incomplete dots

which will lead me to the adjacent poles
that are satisfied with their own nature
science taught me nothing but
selective decision and sense of entrapment
whisper to your pillow before
every intentional breath

“am I just a vehicle to every unidentifiable selfishness or am I just living up to my own means?”
They throw you straight into the deep end,
thank god it's almost the weekend.

retraining all my muscles to do what they used to do
but the ones in my legs are tattered and
torn
it feels like they're almost worn out,
a bit like me on Friday.

— The End —