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Jay Jun 2018
I'M MAKING nachos in your toaster oven. The chips fall in the pan without a problem. Beans, evenly distributed (if I do say so myself.) Salsa- good to go. Then the cheese. Generic brand shredded cheese blend. I dangle my (washed) fingers into the zip-lock bag, grab a generous pinch and rain mild cheddar down on my gourmet meal. And I feel the tears building. "No," my conscious scolds, "you will not cry over shredded cheese." I add another pinch for flavor, then another to assert dominance. I slide the pan into the tiny oven- triumphant! But the next task breaks me. I freeze when I try to adjust the heat setting. I hear your voice so clearly, like you're still calling from the next room: "you have to press the TOAST button, it cooks much faster."  The tears start to roll. I think about how excited you were when cheese bubbled perfectly- "just a little brown, ever so slightly crispy." We would joke about your persnickety preferences, likely a product of your superior taste. Of course, you would have appreciated anything I made for you, but it was always better when the dish matched the idea in your head...when I made it like you would have made it (if you were only well enough to cook for yourself again.) In the present, I poke the TOAST button and flee the kitchen as to not cry in front of the smothered chips. I sit on the sofa and break down, gasping in childish sobs. "I miss her," I wail to an empty house. Warm tears coat my cheeks in the air-conditioned room. I feel so small. I feel so foolish for crying over ******, little things. I feel so... so... A bell dings in the kitchen. I wipe my sleeve across my face and traipse back to the toaster. Hand into oven mitt, mitt onto pan, pan onto table. I grab the plastic tubs of sour cream and guacamole from the fridge and a spoon from the drawer that sticks a little when you try to open it. I pick the non-wilted bits off the head of lettuce and rinse them under the faucet. I finish the recipe. I pull out a chair. I sit down to nachos for one.
Grief is such a strange emotion/process.

*Oh my! Thank you all so much for your support! I wrote this back in June when I needed to get it out of my head and had no idea it was chosen as a daily until I just logged back on and thought there was a glitch with my notifications number. I was slightly mortified that a piece of my mourning got exposure but after reading your comments I'm glad that I documented something many of you identified with. I've since journeyed a bit farther in my grief- slowly overcoming my initial instinct of trying to instantaneously analyze every feeling to determine whether I'm "allowed" to have it. I went to a group bereavement meeting offered by the hospital that treated the loved one in this poem and the nurse running the session made a good point- no one can fully understand another person's relationship with an individual who's passed on. Interpersonal relationships are unique and so is grieving. Being gentle with yourself (especially in times of struggle) is woefully underrated. And with that, I send love, gratitude, and positive vibes to this wonderful community
King Panda Jan 2016
I may have gotten into the
stupidest argument of my life

it was about men painting their
nails
yes
men painting their nails

I want to paint my nails a
deep burgundy
because
well
I feel like I really don’t need
a reason

she said
it would turn my nails
yellow

I said
I don’t give a
****

she said
men don’t wear
nail polish

I said
I don’t give a
****

she said
she didn’t have any
nail polish

I said
*******
I’ll go buy my own
then

when I walked
to the front door
with my car keys
she stamped her
feet and said
FINE!

and she walked upstairs
to her bathroom
where she kept all the
polish
Prabhat Chhetri Mar 2018
Feeling powerful and powerless at the same time
like being in a self driving
Lamborghini

Love is the world's stupidest illusion like putting on sunglasses and being convinced that the world outside has gone colder

Love is reading a self help book to change your life
and pretending to not hear the writer laughing at you
inside the hardcovers

Love is listening to an imaginary song and being afraid the music will leak out of your ears

Not being in love is like calling yourself proactive for taking
the alternate route to avoid the traffic jam ahead
only to find yourself driving alone in an extremely ****** road and reaching an hour late instead

Love is falling for a person who is high thinking they have sad eyes

Love is the panic attack you get when you are high
because your hands are sweating in cold December

Love is the realisation that
it's actually mid July
and you were wearing sunglasses this whole time
Amanda Jean Jul 2018
They say deja vu is a glitch in the matrix
Repeating numbers is a sign from the universe
Angels scream my name from upside down on the ceiling telling me to quit looking at the clock maybe demons maybe I should pay the **** attention
222333444555666777whaaaaaat
That’s not a time
Time ain’t it
Time heals don’t it
But what is stagnant
Sometimes we’re dead
But we move fast
Together
In time
Travel
Through space
Through a line meet your soul face to mine
Hearts beat faster time moves with it that’s the reality so what are you doing
Taking it slow or fast it’s you or pass
Illuminati my life with your eye-seed to the sky can’t remember my thoughts don’t know why I even try
Try to finish a creation pieces of art are never finished close to what I think
Is completion I think I forget how to breathe I’ve got a blemish I cannot see I’m not sure what’s on my lenses sometimes i don’t speak please tell me what the bens is
Keep saying I’m haunted aight
Keep tellling em I’m doing fine
Life’s chaotic but that’s what it’s about
The blends of of the **** around
The hint hang ying yang huh
The freak shows births golds of stone (gh) yeah
But do you even know what the sheets is what if we really going to do da business man **** this **** I don’t know it I already told you I don’t know how to complete this I have no solutions I feel soulless and too much negative too much negative shitnitz my focus my pictures too big I don’t know how to control this I kept saying that I want to relinquish self but what I really need to do is help make a squeal tell em truly how I feel Queen lions roar from the jungles to the shores sideways animals judging their **** from the sidelines
Wasn’t the point making them feel the fire burning in mountain veins but what animals can you truly tame
Cavemen mocking snakes forming fires for the first time killing em with their own tricks man we keep repeating history with our imperialisthe ******* stupidest **** ever
Please excuse my individual
I’ve not much experience with taking over but with my experience we’ll have an experience we’ve never had before and from there our experience will be something to learn from we learn from experiences
I’m opening my mind and my forgiveness forget to forgive I’m all in forgetfulness can we speed to the completion of wishes I beg this from the bottom of my ***** soles to the top of my buzzed head I hear sobriety is the path to success but I can’t create in loneliness I bring pain and sorrow to the art party drown me out with ***** and bring me to my knees in grass prairies in heaven Reaching out for angels bind me in confusion it’s raining in my heart tea parties never breed working brains did they never tell you that in school? Keep teaching myself everyday yeah in the backs of tiny rooms on mountain peaks I breathe in tropical trees blurring all the lines that form all sorts of definition communication of my mind to yours, the shore at the end of the telephone game I lost the rhythm that goes to the flow I dropped the wand that brings flying wings I smacked the lips of the devil I kreeped in **** I’ve been told I’ve always been addicted to pain repeats repeats 444
Yenson Aug 2018
Commissar Dumbrov of The Red Republican Army at his desk

Grego, Grego , what is happening with the Regal in the Gulag
Is he mad yet, has he hanged himself and committed suicide

No Commissar, he is writing poetry and growing fat like a pig

Are you crazy, this is a ****** Revolution, not ******* poetry class
Did you not put him through the program.

We did Commissar, we hounded and tormented him, we persuaded his wife to break his heart, we fully destroyed his career, we isolated him, we ruined him financially, we made the proletariat hate him,
we taunted him and provoked him everywhere, we scandalized his name and reputation, we bugged him, we oppressed him, we bullied him, we made him friendless, we invaded his privacy, we mocked him and depressed him, we tried to confuse him, we mix him up. we harassed him with noise, we've terrorize him we've done everything and more. he has not been with a woman for 20 years.

AND HE'S WRITING POETRY, what a pack of ******* fools you are, that's the trouble with you ****** Proletariat, you have no brains, must be all the ****** gruel you lot eat, your ******* brains didn't develop properly, all you ******* know is how to be ***** and violent, any wonder these Elitists see you as nothing but animals. that great Leader of the Revolution wrote, I forget his name now, he wrote that the best and only way to deal with these Elitists is to attack their minds, **** up their ****** brains, make them paranoid and fearful. drive them crazy, turn them into jabba labba locos, dribbling at the mouth locos crazy,

We tried Commissar, we did all the things to make this happen, we spent a lot of time and effort on this, we used all the grape-vines and contacts we have, we even threw the Kitchen sink at him. So far, nothing.

You threw the ******* Kitchen sink at him, what's that for, the Kitchen sink belongs to the State, its not meant to be thrown at ******* Elitist Dissidents.

Its a manner of speech, Commissar.

Now you are a Comedian, are you, a ******* Revolution is going on, we are creating a Classless Society and Equality for all and you are making ****** jokes!

No Commissar, I mean we utilized all resources so far, we have continually harassed him, we have created so much disappointments, betrayals, let-downs, frustrations for him, but he still remains calm, stoical, composed, dignified, erudite and sane.
maybe its true that these people are a different breed. Its frustrating for us and quite honestly, embarrassing!.

Shut up, are you saying he's some sort of Regal Rasputin, even that ****** one, we got in the end, now you're saying this one is bullet-proof. Have you tried Advanced Slander, spread the nastiest rumors about him. So bad to make him take his own life. Who was it that said,  “Show me the man and I'll show you the crime”

It was Comrade Beria, Commissar. Yes Commissar, we have framed him many times and made thumped up allegations against him. We have done all that Commissar, we even said he walks like John Wayne or a broken crab.

Who is this John Wayne, are you a time-traveler now?

Have you tried spreading the rumor that he goes to the Cementry at night and sleep with dead women, he digs up.

No Commissar, I don't think even the stupidest Proletariat would believe that one.

Have you tried spreading a rumour he has *** with a dog.

Commissar Natashavo hasn't been anywhere near him, Commissar

Are you being funny again, Grego

No Commissar!

So what is happening right now with our Mr Invincible Elitist Poet Romanov or whatever his name is,  the MAN that you ******* useless Republican comrades, can't drive mad or make commit suicide, a simple thing, that we have done thousands of times. Why is it that when we do these things to those Class-traitor Proletariat, they die or go raving mad loco coo coo  within six months.

The Proletariat are brainless  cowards Commissar, they can dish it out but they can't take it, Commissar, that's why its so easy for us Senior Members of the Po-lit-Bureau to manipulate and control them. As regards our MAN we are still actively harassing him, we are presently mixing him up again, mentally and doing voice to skull tactics with him. We also make sure he remains frozen in a time warp. This is useful in allowing us to demonstrate to the imbecilic Proletariat that we are powerful and can control people and events, this makes sure they realize our capabilities and might and of course, fosters espirit de corps. It keeps them all in line.

Well that's good thinking Grego, yes, that's good, as regards our Poet, why don't we just blast off his *****.

We did Commissar, but he grew bigger ones!

Are you being funny again, Grego, do you want to be sent to the Gulag in Siberia to keep the Poet company.

No, Commissar, I have a date tonight with Commissar Natashavo!
Johnny Noiπ Aug 2018
I'm not a comedic entertainer;
I'll leave that to pretty girls
& clowns - I'm a poet & I
always tell the truth whether
I like or not, whether u like
it or not, the truth is self-
evident & plain to see; the
most average non-thinkers
are the one pulling the levers
so, that being said, they can
all go **** themselves; I
have no responsibility to be
beholden to behests of idiots;
they'll tell me to go **** myself
& likewise I return the feeling;
they count their big bucks
while sitting on the patio of
their second summer home,
while geniuses panhandle on the
street maligned as lunatics, as the
stupidest people in the world run
the world; u just have to look
around to see the effects of evil
creeps & dumb ***** on ur life;
unless u're one of them, smiling
while everyone else is eating ****
Johnny Noiπ Aug 2018
everything I wish for comes true;
but I **** at wishing,  so when I
hang out w/ someone, I say wish
for anything & not believing me,
they wish for the stupidest things
& get it; I always end up wishing
they'd just go away & stay away;
& it's another wish down the drain
Bryce Jul 2018
I got an award
For being the stupidest young boy
With a wax soul
And impressionable.

I thought I'd find something
Nestled here amidst the trees
And I did,
But in no halls but the hall of god
Speaking to me
Dancing between the leaves
Singing with every whispered breeze
And yet when I stepped
Past the threshold and into the
"real world"
I was sold
A maniac of utter delinquency.

Everybody there
Waiting for their turn
Auditioning for the favor of hearts
They'll never win
Can't see
Laughing and wondering
Reading without comprehension
Sticking their *** in the face of the classics
Lap dogs licking the milk from
Professed *******
Thinking they'll be next

Its not resentment--
Is it fair to be bent
Towards dollars that've never been spent?

All those silly parks
Divided from the civilized lands
Frontiers of the past
Left to be little staging areas
For that invisible hand

Kids go on spring break
Take pictures between the towns
Maybe a stop along
On the way
To Vegas
Deep in the desert where it'd **** any other day

I cannot escape the unfathomable beauty of that place,
Living off the world in a way God said
To toil and love the pain
In a way nobody does

I am guilty of pride and
Stuffed like a pie full of anger
Cooking it into solid joy
And trying hard to scrape the cancerous crust away
All the dark sides we avoid

But screaming the heat away is good
Thermal induction is the name of the game
Entropic fizzlements like bubbles in the wind
Sublimating all that ever stood.

Yet soon enough I'll be born anew
And what I leave behind
Lifted up
Nautoloid shell
With a sparkling abalone interior
Someone will place on their shelf
And think,

"I wonder where that thing had been."
Sky Yang Aug 2018
I.
perhaps
the stupidest love
the blindest love
is also
the purest love

(and perhaps
the stupidest
and blindest people
are also
the purest people)

II.
love for the sake of loving.

for the way your name stains my tongue
so berry-blue
and the way our gazes hold
tight like a rubber band

do not love for your sake or mine.

and most of all, love
at your own risk.

III.
i love you whole
from the top of your head to the
tip of your toe,
even the grime under your nails
(but that's gross man, please cut them)

IV.
i love you unconditionally
but leaving ***** underwear all over the house?
you're testing me.

V.
i want to love so much that
love drips out from my wounds
and out of every pore of my body,
and you'll say

EWW *** LMAOAOAO

...

f* you

VI.
i want my love to be flawed
like you, before that morning bed selfie
#wokeuplikethis

my ***

VII.
i want my love to take your form,
both your chocolate abs
and your flat ***
<3

VIII.
no, you're not special
i could love anyone-- just give me time
but i chose you

huh
you're special after all
a love poem
ATILA Mar 5
Here is a poor cat
Striped, sweet and shy
Minding its own world
But somehow feel grateful
For the touch of me
Who is passing by.

With saint hazel eyes
This cat artlessly purrs
To provoke a symbiosis between us
Surpisingly soothes my blue whale heart.

It also seeks for a comfy gesture
That will fit just right
It is that simple and pure
And makes heart feel light.

What a purrfection cat!
That prides itself for having fur like velvet
But never acts like a brat
Leading me to give it a soft peck
Because we have a same wavelength
Plus wanting another species to cherish our rant
That sadly never ends.


There's a saying;
'Humans who think cats don't understand them are the stupidest ones'
So imma get all lovey dovey with this cat
See if you care.
Weird poem but OK :(

— The End —