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emily mikkelsen Apr 2017
between the concrete river
& the park where the bums share a bottle
wrapped in a brown paper sack,

there is a cul-de-sac of plastic houses
holding hands & sharing manicured lawns
wooden cars that don't even make any smoke
drive down gray asphalt streets.

fathers that tell mothers they have jobs
wear down street corners sharing beers with the bums,
like they already are one.

all these paper families rubbing shoulders
until everyone has paper cuts.
going home to dinner around a table full of paper love.

suburbia is flimsy
paper towns shining white
smiling neighbors & shared lawns
paper people slowly falling apart.

couples with their tongues down each other's throats,
midnight in supermarket parking lots
dribbling beer in the backseat
they bought off the bums.  

they say,
I love you, I love you, I love you.
until she leaves for a paper husband
& he leaves for a paper wife.

now they live on two separate cul-de-sacs
with the same cutout love,
as the parents they despised.

& when they have kids one day
they will tell them
never kiss before driving,
never befriend bums,
or guzzle cheap beer in backseats,
or on park swings.
& never settle for a paper husband
or a paper wife.


remembering the love
that was flimsy,
but never paper.

100,000 miles away from where they grew up
& 3,000 miles away from each other
3 kids each & plastic houses
rubbing shoulders & sharing lawns

living in a paper thin suberbia
chafing under their paper love.
inspired by "Paper Towns" by John Green
bones Feb 2016
She reaches on tip toe
through windows and tries
to take hold of the outside
and gather it in,

for to feel the wind
and the pull of the tides
on the shrinking inside
of a life growing thin..
Michael May 2017
I've got the rip down just right
The soft tear, grated misnomer
Perforated here in my middle
Like I was meant to come apart
Out of view
Hot with friction
Hot with longing
Kinetic energy
Shredding
Dividing
The low sound of cutting construction paper
Thick with each blade passing
A sharp kiss
Maybe
Gripping like this
The right tool for suicide in the wrong hands
I have hands like those
******* I'm dissolving in a tear drop
It never left the eye
The sting feels like drowning
Waterless
and
in pieces
Like paper.
Nassif Younes Aug 2016
One look
And I am stripped bare.
My goosebump coat
Does not cover me.
It lights me up like a neon sign
And my water thin soul
Glows like white crystal
As it spills into a pool
Below the moon.
You touch me as the light fades.
It is pitch dark
And now I have nowhere to hide.
JR Weiss Nov 2012
they slide my shirt up over my head
and i hide my body against them.
praying
that their eyes,
which hold such capacity for judgement,
are fooled by the touch of my skin.

the honest fear
stands clear in my heart.
unwavering in the face of its own impossibility.

in that second,
i feel as if i am being stripped
of the feeble illusion that has granted me access
to thier desires and passions.

i'm truly ashamed in that moment
for having tricked them
into thinking
i am so much more
then i truly am.
Knit Personality Jan 2015
.
                          "...better to stand aloof
Far from these slanderous fools who mock my life
Knowing me not..."
                          —Oscar Wilde

How petty I become around the petty,
Giving a **** and ruining my day
About worthless opinions, till, all heady
And quick with rage, I conjure up and slay
With words some holograms of those who rightly
Deserve my total disregard and full
Forgetting, caring not if they contritely
Beg my pardon or talk till their tongues are dull.
Rather, adopt a wise philosophy,
Self, and ignore these sadly bored and boring
Servants of Trivia: for Poetry
Reserve your thoughts: give fools your loudest snoring.
And if you think on them, do it with pity:
Their lives must be just so, so, so, so ******.

#
It was suppose to be
    
       Through thick and thin

But when things got

         Thick you became thin

& were gone with the wind.
A line I particularly like from my poem blinded.
Celia Sep 2018
Like an airplane reaching its climb they break through
My once composed and seamless blanket is now a
        valley of holes punctured and breaking,
They seep into my pores and leave me shaking.

These words manifested as bullets and knives
To do endless damage, leave me barely alive.

But the friendliest of fire is what hurts me the most,
My most powerful enemy and advisory is the one
         free to coast.
That who truly knows what is inly flung,
In myself, only I can be undone.

My exterior is a thin barrier,
My only defense against the world.
fearfulpoet Mar 22
Why they call me the fearful poet! (The Razor Thin Difference)

”but who am I to complain
the  razor thin difference tween
blessings and curses so thin,
sometimes are they not, the same thing”

Aug. 2018

~~~

this familiar line, well traversed, lives on the maps
sketched indented on your palms and brow,
at the edges of the crow’s nests, the eye’s keyboard witnesses,
recording every stroke

we tap in seeings, forming letters,
letters into lines, lines into verse,
as we alliterate, we walk unawares,
of the razor thin difference tween blessings and curse,
indiscernible until concluded, perhaps, not even then,
the stanza’s probable outcome,
always unsure, unknowing destiny’s decision

so we walk, tread, plumb, shoutout
“vive la difference,”
hoping the blessing messengers hear us first,
consummating our pleas on their favorable sight & side,
ever fearful, we do not shout loud enough,
do the blind hear,
need me, possess my sacrificial offerings,
my trepidations, burnt on the Temple’s altar

who will breathe their smoke and understand
their fearful origins?

so we-write, cajole that our every moment’s fear,
find the difference, that we don’t bleed from life’s razoring,
the thinner thinnest
needle threaded,

and fear is the threat,
and fear is the thread,
that holds me together


until the unraveling
requires me to write again,
the fearful poet
3/21/19 4:15 am
Monika Layke Dec 2018
I wish you’d stop fighting for me
As a string clings to a balloon
I’d like to fly away and pop
Nigel Lloyd May 2015
Thin and crispy, round and flat
A staple of the proletariat
Two for a tenner
It makes you wonder
And delivered to your door on the back of a Honda.
Shofi Ahmed Apr 2017
Just a dew drop, let alone the sea,
and a handful of earth, not the Planet Ge.
Not a shade of blue, save the rose for bee
Purely a clear drop didn’t spill in the core,
because the whole sphere feels the pinch.

Singing chorus rains down, bouncing back
to earth the only open-through planet.
No black hole is as deep as the sun jumps,
dives in the dew on every flower they wet.
Every bird in the trees sings and tweets,
yet one is stone quiet, shouldn’t even hiss.
Shh! shh, the sleeping beauty is sleeping!

Cut above the rest, the unique earth
brimming with the infinite finishing line
by design pans out to the transcended pi.
Pure spring, the waterfront by the Moon,
untouched, unspoiled is her swimming pool.

How she goes by, wetting her ****** toe
Only to bubble high up the transcended circle
If only the sun could rise high in that pole,
for the rest of species could sneak a peek.
She’s there with the capstone of the pyramid!

Shots beyond the fixed circle, netting the eyeballs.
The stars, the Moon on the move for pure freedom.
The thrilled earth did come out, smelling of roses
Off the golden cut pi-decimal-abyss digital spring.
With a handful of earth and a drop of water dew
This is a pure mirroring thanks to the original, you!

At the end of the string apt you lovely took her by hand
and she took it in emptying her heart and soul.
Earth is now too thin on stock, she is no more
Just a shadow, a 360-degree hollow flute!
Oh light at the end of the tunnel shine and show
Play in like in the Night of Ascension once more!
This is a poem from my book Zero and One available on Amazon.
julianna Sep 2018
Skinny skinny
Thin and skinny
Shrink me down and make me skinny
Exercise or just don’t eat
Run until the furthest street
Why do I always feel this way?
Something’s wrong inside my brain,
It only matters what I weigh.
Skinny skinny
Thin and skinny
Shrink me down and make me skinny
Erin Beer Nov 2018
She stood so thoughtfully,
At the person in front of her,
Yet all she could think of,
Was the fat within her body,
Because opposite the girl,
Stood her reflection,
Because it wasn’t bullying,
If you told yourself the truth.
Äŧül Nov 2012
In That Moonlit Night Standing In The Abaft,
Watching The Towed Flaccid Wooden Raft,
I Thought That I Saw An Angel Resting,
Lying Exhausted There In That Craft.

I Call The Girl Out Unbeknownst Of Her Kind Name,
"Hey Young Lady!!" To Which She Didn't Much Respond,
She Looks Up Towards Me Once In Anguish & Collapsed,
I Spot Desperation In Amber Eyes & Resolve To Help Her.

The Crewmen Had Now Been Doing The Paddles After Resting,
I Summon My Captain & Ask, "Do You See That Girl In The Raft?"
The Captain Now Smiles To Say, "Commodore, Better Get Married,"
I Look So Clueless To Which He Simply Replied, "There Is No Girl."

True He Was As She Had Simply Disappeared,
I Started Thinking Of My Sleep Needs That Day,
I Looked Around Again In A Hope To Find The Girl,
I Had Compromised My Routine As The Commodore.

Then I Immediately Realized It Was My Wild Phantasm,
Now This Was Just A Plain Illusion Of A Tired Sailor's Mind,
No Mermaids Could Have Ever Existed In Reality & Were Fake,
I Turned Towards The Deck To Go Back To My Bunk For Sleeping.

As I Climbed Down The Stairs To Enter My Room Amazed & Dazed,
I Saw Her Standing And Waiting For Me By The Side Of My Bunk,
I Accepted That Delusion Of My Mind & Started To Lie Down,
She Said, "I'm As Real As Your Thoughts, Don't Fear Me."

She & I-Me & Her, Had The Best Time That Night,
In The Morning She Was Gone & Was Just Gone,
Disappeared Into Thin Air While I Was Asleep,
Each Day I So Dearly Long For Her To Return.
7 Stanzas of a Beautiful Open-Eyed Dream

Read the entire Angel Saga by me, Atul Kaushal.
https://hellopoetry.com/collection/13567/the-angel-series/

My HP Poem #19
©Atul Kaushal

I thank you all so much for the overwhelming response that this poem has received.

If you get interested in reading my novel's eBook after having read this poem then do visit http://www.amazon.com/gp/aw/d/B00MYY0DMA for buying my story titled "7 Seconds" and supporting my medical expenses.


A millennium back
Our fate decided
That we were destined
To meet like this
As strangers...

For LOVE to touch us
For LOVE to happen

Nor YOU nor I
Could have stopped
This LOVE to happen

We were mere puppets
In the hands of fate

Good thing is
Rather than fighting LOVE
We surrendered to accept it

We made choice of not
Harming, Hurting, Hating
Humiliating each other
Or anyone else

We made choices
To be kind, caring
Respectful & trusting
To be compassionate and
LOVING towards each other

In your LOVE
I became a Radha
And a Meera
And a Kabeer
And an Eve
And a Kaiz
And a Rumi
And a Rabya

You became my Krishna
And a Layla
And an Adam
And a Zuliet
And my Allah-Hoo

Wherever I stand and BE
You are there
Everywhere for me
You've became ETERNAL
Part and parcel of my SOUL

We've stood by each other
In thick and thin
And we intend to do so forever
To keep our conscience clean




Briana Sep 2018
I am at this point in life
When everything I hear
And everything i see
Hurts me.
Even the good things.
Because I know
That things can change so quick so bad.
And if,
IF I somehow manage to do something good
And make myself happy
I can't even enjoy it.
Because I am completely doubtless
That it will,
Like all the past stuff that were good in my life
Come to an ending
Just when I attach to it
And can't live without it anymore.
And when they do come to the end of the road,
I spend months and months
Putting all the broken pieces of myself together.
I spend months and months
Searching for a closure.
But just when I do,
Somehow,
Step on this problem's toes
And defeat it,
Something else hits me
Like a million of heavy burning trees
And crushes me
Like I was a thin toothpick,
Just standing in the wind,
Waiting to be knocked down.

I go home,
Lock myself in the bathroom
And cry;
Like my body was filled with rain,
Like my tears were a waterfall,
Like my eyes were a bucket full of water.

So please,
Don’t try to change my mind
If i'd rather ignore the good stuff
Than spend months and months
Repairing the damage that the pleasure brought.
Don’t try to change my mind.
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