Hello Poetry
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"trending" poems
Collab, collab! Oh thoughtful collabs! Amalgamation of two unique minds, Merging of dual thinking labs! Cerebral workshop of life's diverse grinds! Collab, collab! Reinforced true! Melding of minds and honed crafts, Mounted up with bolt and ***** Assembled solid in monochromed poetic drafts. Collab, collab! A trend that's trending! A fad that now seems ever growing... Each other's style we will be wearing. Matching ensembles, yours for the liking. Collab, collab! More of it please! Ocean of creativity, pearls ripe for picking, Journey for two across artistic seas. Wonder who with next I'll be swimming...
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Oct 7, 2014
Oct 7, 2014 at 2:03 PM UTC
Collab!
they emerge from the wooded neighborhood ridge and fringe at dusk into breadth of lawn & limb. witchy chicks casting banter n bitchcraft. teenage dead end dreamers tipped in black magick lip gloss & glitter, their genderfluid familiars &/or wayward boyfriends apparate in the street pink cloud spinning wheel, & hawking bile. ****** stella smile. swallow a hex, send a snap, tongue along his neck promising to fold bodies before sunrise. the effervescent gasp of post-ritual clarity. in the house, is a kid. a gig. the devil with a younger grip. & the kid thrills on a bit of the ol’ u l t r a v i o l e n c e. ****** videogames, ****** anime, ****** mayhem n melodic music. he is a conduit of dark energy. a pure blooded offering of the stone age/video age, mind in a kind of kaleidoscopic way. he is me. bred on televised bucket slime ceremonials. she checks her purse. drugs & snacks & juul & a pretty dead bird. a daughter of delphi watching your kid. tending to him. trending him. popcorn smelling him, the texas chainsaw massacre on vhs just before bed. palace of teeth n twigs. just a short walk to the edge and then its bath time. the demon version is grisly and cruel. the angel version is starry-eyed and adventurous. to conjure some thing, at the cliff jumping. it was fun.
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Oct 13, 2014
Oct 13, 2014 at 2:54 AM UTC
babysitters on acid (eat, pray, love, conjure satan)
every time we fall in love, they call it trite, a false fairy tale. love is weak. and weak ain't trending no more. every time we speak our mind, they tell us to shut up, too young to have an opinion. the youth is unreliable, too many fresh hormones. every time we stand up straight, they cross us, crucify us. acquiescing is appropriate, they gift certificates in frames for that. every time we subscribe to a higher code of ethics, they call us radical, salivate, and spectate as we are torn asunder by lions. love should never transcend national pride, here it's guns, god, no homosexuals or mexicans all the time. if i make a stand, and you make a stand, and the dominoes begin to fall, if i inspire a dozen, and you inspire a thousand, the gears will grind, the tide will turn, the lions will all be too full, and they surely will run out of nails, before they've crossed every single one of us.
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Jun 25, 2010
Jun 25, 2010 at 9:26 PM UTC
it's called culture (cross us/crucify us)
You Are Trending In My Mind
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Sep 15, 2019
Sep 15, 2019 at 10:34 AM UTC
Since then
•        you                secretly                        wishing, for                               your writes to be                                 noticed•simple sign                              that they have not been                           missed•with every view                      and every like•your popu-                larity does spike•somewhat           places your art on the poetry       map•between major players,        you close the gap•constantly       checking to see  who's been               reading•you're always deli-                ghted to see the *'yellow                       lightning'*•a wish...                                 for those who                                   are writ-                     ing       • secretly hope not only for your words to be reaching far and wide, but also... trending
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Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 9:31 AM UTC
Trending
I was in love with a Poem: The poet lured her victims into her wild kingdom of Word, words, words, that became the forest of ****** illusion verses and verses that I never encounter; In this kingdom I never notice the Sunrise before Sunset The chanting before the protesters Lightening before the winds suddenly brought on by the rain, That triggers the mighty storms: The poetics effects of Similes, Hyperbole, Understatement and personification devices got my attention Pages after pages, line of words that opened my eyes, The mighty pen, a trending poem, and there I was a loyal reader With an amazing cup of hot coffee The poem took me through this much-modernized tale of Alice’s rabbit hole adventures Poems are to be read aloud, loving making is meant to be private So is mourning for the dead: Some things are just meant to be...private My love for the poem and my admiration on its poetic views Is more than human emotions, than my stimuli of brain *** I read the poem while sipping my coffee, Birth, death, politics and religion *** drugs and empty souls : human emotions, This much-modernized free verse poetry can causes multiplies  *******
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Apr 25, 2015
Apr 25, 2015 at 3:46 PM UTC
I Was In Love With A Poem
[Hashtag]MeToo Here it goes again, trending on Insta and Facebook. Where real awareness stems. Mind the sarcasm, social media’s a powerful tool not knockin’ that. I wonder though, does the mind of the follower understand the context of the hash? Do they get it should be a call to action? Not necessarily at the keyboard. More like on the couch with their children, Giving the conversation of consent.   Most people do not even understand it by definition . The meaning of yes and no convoluted by scenario.   Bias boils over like milk and water over full flame. The posts bubble out and stick to the side of the pan, quickly drying; leaving their mark. Until the soap and warm water flows over them, and the steam evaporates the confessions. Until they are again whispers we all hear and know. It’s whispers from the alley ways, and from married couples bedroom doors. The woman is the property,   the man is the proprietor.   We refuse to address the real problems, the failures of our up-bringers. We point fingers and slay names yet the statistics provide the truth.   One in four for females, one in sixteen for males. We all have been violated, slandered, and forced to say [Hashtag]MeToo Not going to say I did not share it, I know the touch of unwanted hands, the invasive *********** All for the sake of the insanity,   in repeating a useless gesture. The only difference is My hashtag went to my Senator.
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Jul 6, 2018
Jul 6, 2018 at 9:25 AM UTC
#MeToo
Hello. I am the trending poem.                                                                                  you see me and I make you feel alive                                              so you like me and re-post me                                                                   then you leave me alone to die. Hello, I am your forgotten lines.              you created me with a careful love                                                           and decisive rhymes                                       and then to the bottom of your page I'm shoved. Hello I am forgotten, alone and unloved                            a faded smile a broken dove                                                I once was beautiful, touching.                                                           now, I've been replaced, I'm nothing.
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Nov 11, 2017
Nov 11, 2017 at 5:48 PM UTC
Broken Poetry
the dutch colony ascended on our shores replacing traditional african education on culture with teaching slaves how to pray we saw the deterioration of black schools and state-mandated segregated curricula whites being taught better than blacks who was only destined for subservient jobs policies of apartheid birthed the bantu education and later forced us to learn languages which was not our native tongue the youth could no longer be silenced soweto uprising saw them dying for the cause we have protested throughout the decades silenced by the apartheid government simply ignored with Mandela’s release we saw liberation, freedom, democracy and a single education system, we were finally equal however the legacy of black inferior education left a deep scar which has still not healed our parents not able to give us the education they were denied now students are holding the government accountable who promised free education for a vote the movement trending as #feesmustfall anger expressed by burning premises, striking and rioting i believe in the cause but who are you really hurting? why destroy the very universities that you are fighting for?
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Oct 27, 2016
Oct 27, 2016 at 5:17 PM UTC
#feesmustfall
Watching Trending videos on YouTube, 2 of the top ten videos are dead, which means I’m watching ghosts, having deja vu see it seems I’ve seen this scene before, Rest In Peace Mac Miller, Resit In Pease Xxxtentacion, this spirits have be writing frantically, going for gold or at least an honorable mention, want to be anything except forgotten, skin is fresh but core is rotten, scent of cologne watching Post Malone, give an interview on Jimmy Fallon, seems we’ve fallen, and our idols are a sign of where we’re at, war never stopped it just changed forms, from Germany to Vietnam to Iraq, as the sun sets over San Francisco Bay, I watch the colors run, indifferent to the cause and the effect, nothing’s perfect but the sky always looks so beautiful, as I gaze out this bedroom window, in a house I do not own, just touched down from Australia, back in The Bay for another round, taking a moment to reflect, in my feelings as the sun sets, and it feels like we’ve seen it all, even though we know we haven’t seen anything yet, watching Trending videos on YouTube, 2 of the top ten videos are dead, which means I’m watching ghosts, having deja vu see it seems I’ve seen this scene before… ∆ LaLux ∆
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Oct 2, 2018
Oct 2, 2018 at 9:16 PM UTC
{ Seeing Ghost }
We all want our poems to trend and get views. But when that is your focus, you're the one who will lose. Striving for popularity can cause you to lose clarity. Pulling you down a hole of insularity. Instead, look ahead! There are new horizons to be tread! New poems to bloom happily in your garden bed, no matter whether they are noticed...or even read!
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Jul 27, 2018
Jul 27, 2018 at 7:00 AM UTC
Is poetry about trending?
The immense striking letters of the gazette’s front page make me almost cross-eyed My mind is going to explode in the images I have seen in the television Boom! When will the politicians be weary in stealing the wealth of the country? Millions of pesos were caught in the centre of the golden sea Can we only find it from other countries? Is that the main reason why Filipinos are migrating: to find source of much bigger income? I am thinking about them together with their bosses with heavy iron hands I believe crime rate is escalating... ...the crime that can grab you 24 hours a day Can we still smell the tainted odor of pictures of the street children... children who beg for a piece of bread? Mr. President, where is the promised straight road you are pointing at? Why can’t we see it? Is it crooked? Why is it that these are the ONLY stuffing of rumors? Why can’t we focus onto a bigger and wider problem of our country and even around the world? Perhaps above all issues, this is the only concern that is not yet trending in Twitter So, I just boasted it to my open-mouthed puppy... “If I will be the President of the Philippines, I will focus first on ENVIRONMENTAL ISSUES.” Suddenly, Bruno’s saliva dripped.
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Jul 28, 2014
Jul 28, 2014 at 3:52 AM UTC
If I will be the President...
I liked that poem before it was trending.
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May 11, 2014
May 11, 2014 at 12:50 PM UTC
Hipster Poet
My heart fills with joy Each time I see HP notifications coming by. “Someone loved your poem” makes me believe, Confidence blooming in words I weave. I smile while reading comments in delight, Each word feels like a guiding light. “Someone reposted it” gives me gentle thrills, A kindness that lingers, a warmth that instills. And when my poem starts trending high, I whisper thank you, with tears in my eye.
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Sep 9, 2025
Sep 9, 2025 at 10:59 PM UTC
Notifications from Hello Poetry
And the fish swim in the lake and do not even own clothing. – Ezra Pound How would they style themselves for the net, the little fishes of the lake? Not robes of purity, Ezra, but sequins cut from trash, brands bright as lures, fashioned to catch the eye, a glint of sun. Would the big ones strap on knockoff fins to flex in shark cosplay near the shore, snapping reels in the reeds, captioned #greatwhitevibes #apexpredator? Would carp veil themselves in algae, funeral couture, posting stories of their grief in green? Would they admire the fishery tags: industrial piercings they can’t remove, or the hook-slit scars from catch-and-release, each one a verified badge, proof they were trending once, briefly, before sinking out of frame? Would they tilt to the water’s glass, checking which gill looks slimmer, tails arched like influencers at golden hour, the shimmer hiding shame, the shame we taught them to wear?
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Sep 14, 2025
Sep 14, 2025 at 2:34 PM UTC
Ezra Pound Blocks Me
Massive egos shine Mostly drivel on HP Just Poetastery
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May 27, 2015
May 27, 2015 at 11:55 PM UTC
Trending Offenders
By Arcassin Burnham Did you ever consider segregating, The good ones from the ******** The devils and gods, With trending honorables, Or symbolic presses, Call it lame meetings, Random trending would be my guess, I'm ******* crazy, In reality I need a physical test, Fail it then then turn it in, Then tell every in class their all ******* pests, Like I said I don't need your pity, Nor your sympathy, It was the end of me, But also the beginning of the new me, I will never rest, I just need some time to think, While this blows over, Being hated by many, But no luck with clovers, Violent black kid in America, Do I sound like a good person, Mistake me for a fool, Leave you with one of my curses, So strum away lady, Cause I'm not listening, I'd rather be frozen in block of ice, Then be trending.
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Oct 5, 2014
Oct 5, 2014 at 8:00 PM UTC
"Lady Guitarist (Hp Diss)"
and a bell in its place to some, no doubt, a disgrace it was to me, i must admit but new light shines in place of it our front page is new, brighter than ever and now made by you trending was all the rage but (we all knew it) the algorithm couldn't hold the stage so now he'll do his part to get your poem out in front but that's just the start next it's up to the community, a repost, a heart or a plucky thumb dare I say, it's up to you and me
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May 29, 2017
May 29, 2017 at 5:28 PM UTC
Lightning R.I.P.
Out of boredom, I open up an old novel I was writing at the age of 13. I remember thinking I was a brilliant writer, This book is publishing material. I read it today and Cringe At Every Word. Filled with teenage angst, raging hormones and everything in between. Why did I think this passed, For writing?! Well at least I improved. But I don't like the fact that, In few years, I will cringe at writing I did today. Hell, I was reading a poem I wrote last year, It became trending, And I think "how?" Is this even worthy for a like? Well, I can say I grew.
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Oct 3, 2014
Oct 3, 2014 at 11:17 PM UTC
Cringe
viral and trending as fifteen minutes has become a lifetime and 45 seconds is more what it looks like to be internet famous – fat cats and mall rats in Spanx sippling frozen latte’s with 8 shots of circle K crack violently Instagram-ing every moment constantly trolling for the one big hit – social media ***** bored with “likes” looking to blog the best tweets and Facebook with the losers of last year’s season of Celebrity Chef –
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Jun 18, 2015
Jun 18, 2015 at 2:31 PM UTC
social media is silly
clumsy trip up the 17 steps to the paisley sheets me behind you and saying the same thing with a new twist "hey, know whats trending?" "your sweet *** or "you smell that?!" to which you reply "farts is trending" no able to erupt in the uproarious laughter necessitated by turning a tired line on its head i cover my mustachioed mouth with a sweaty palm to cover the guffaw that would most certainly awake my roommates you always in the lead giving *** for tat the style of humor i searched for yearningly and never found that is till you released wind and then told me about it
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Apr 15, 2013
Apr 15, 2013 at 4:44 PM UTC
farts is trending
The living reality of a metaphor, almost every ounce in-taken, Every nuance, every pronounce, measured, weighted and weighty, Fluid or firmament, each encapsulated, prior to release, scaled, Tabulated, ordered, noted, recorded, and ultimately judg-ed. Totality of it all, the varied quantities of the ingested nutrients, even the forecast of the future, if every day was a metaphor for like todayDO I speak of the day's headlines? Of the quantity and nutrition that passes through my lips? Or The surround sound of the surrounding sounds of this day, the flocks of bandito geese who exist only to torment, the landscape working crews, with their tools, like a 7::00an wake up buzzing about, for the entire street, going house to house, looking for itinerant grassy knolls of patches of bright green, overnight sprung up and needy to be guillotined, laundry to do, rugs needy for clothesline screaming/beating or merely super fast vacuuming; they, hawking their skills available for the old and infirm, or the fatty catty cattle lazy, (somewhere in there is moi); and the decibels of their machines, the rat-a-tat of their rapido, voluble speech that feeds me poetry by the ounce of their laughter, but more exactly of, What do I speak, to what do I allude? Why all and none, everything and specifically nothing, for the metaphor is meta! (1) It is life itself, from the quarter teaspoon to the overflowing bath, it is life at its most incremental, the moment of flushing face, the second of ah ha! recollection, the, long term trends trending, the flatline of my EKG, the weighty pronouncement of my talking scale (you've been bad), IT IS THE EVERYTHING that is measurable, weighable, isolatable, defined;  it is our existence of our each & every of action and inaction strung together like a necklace and a chain We are metaphor, reality, is, the script, which is the product of you. scriptwriter…/
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Aug 8, 2025
Aug 8, 2025 at 6:17 PM UTC
The Measuring Cup (The reality of a metaphor)
The living reality of a metaphor, almost every ounce in-taken, Every nuance, every pronounce, measured, weighted and weighty, Fluid or firmament, each encapsulated, prior to release, scaled, Tabulated, ordered, noted, recorded, and ultimately judg-ed. Totality of it all, the varied quantities of the ingested nutrients, even the forecast of the future, if every day was a metaphor for like todayDO I speak of the day's headlines? Of the quantity and nutrition that passes through my lips? Or The surround sound of the surrounding sounds of this day, the flocks of bandito geese who exist only to torment, the landscape working crews, with their tools, like a 7::00an wake up buzzing about, for the entire street, going house to house, looking for itinerant grassy knolls of patches of bright green, overnight sprung up and needy to be guillotined, laundry to do, rugs needy for clothesline screaming/beating or merely super fast vacuuming; they, hawking their skills available for the old and infirm, or the fatty catty cattle lazy, (somewhere in there is moi); and the decibels of their machines, the rat-a-tat of their rapido, voluble speech that feeds me poetry by the ounce of their laughter, but more exactly of, What do I speak, to what do I allude? Why all and none, everything and specifically nothing, for the metaphor is meta! (1) It is life itself, from the quarter teaspoon to the overflowing bath, it is life at its most incremental, the moment of flushing face, the second of ah ha! recollection, the, long term trends trending, the flatline of my EKG, the weighty pronouncement of my talking scale (you've been bad), IT IS THE EVERYTHING that is measurable, weighable, isolatable, defined;  it is our existence of our each & every of action and inaction strung together like a necklace and a chain We are metaphor, reality, is, the script, which is the product of you. scriptwriter…/
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39
Lately, I've seen poems trending about how no one should fall in love with a poet, nor should they make a poet helplessly fall in love with them. However, something no one has mentioned yet is what occurs too often: stealing from a poet. When a poet writes a poem, that poem is the perfect combination of metaphors and imagery created by them for you -- a compilation so beautifully intricate that you can get lost by reading merely a few words, overtaken by an empathetic tide that you did not think would come to the corners of your eyes when you sat down and opened your book or tab or paper. This is the beauty of poems; they express words that many cannot say in any other variation of any way. Ask a poet to describe their emotions and they will beg you for paper and pen, a computer and a keyboard. And these poems eventually combine to become a part of the poet. The poems a poet writes become a part of themselves. That being said, it is not okay to take away from a poet what is rightfully theirs. You do not steal from a poet because you are searching for an idea, or because you would like to go trending. Stealing is not poetry. Stealing is not beautiful. We are a community of people with a love more affable for poetry than for ourselves, and we should all respect all the pieces, because if we do then we are accepting and respecting each other. So I ask you from the bottom of my heart, do not steal from a poet any longer if you have, or at all if you have not. Your pieces are your own raw emotions, not mine. My pieces are my own raw emotions, not yours.
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Jun 3, 2014
Jun 3, 2014 at 6:52 PM UTC
Don't Steal From A Poet
Lately, I've seen poems trending about how no one should fall in love with a poet, nor should they make a poet helplessly fall in love with them. However, something no one has mentioned yet is what occurs too often: stealing from a poet. When a poet writes a poem, that poem is the perfect combination of metaphors and imagery created by them for you -- a compilation so beautifully intricate that you can get lost by reading merely a few words, overtaken by an empathetic tide that you did not think would come to the corners of your eyes when you sat down and opened your book or tab or paper. This is the beauty of poems; they express words that many cannot say in any other variation of any way. Ask a poet to describe their emotions and they will beg you for paper and pen, a computer and a keyboard. And these poems eventually combine to become a part of the poet. The poems a poet writes become a part of themselves. That being said, it is not okay to take away from a poet what is rightfully theirs. You do not steal from a poet because you are searching for an idea, or because you would like to go trending. Stealing is not poetry. Stealing is not beautiful. We are a community of people with a love more affable for poetry than for ourselves, and we should all respect all the pieces, because if we do then we are accepting and respecting each other. So I ask you from the bottom of my heart, do not steal from a poet any longer if you have, or at all if you have not. Your pieces are your own raw emotions, not mine. My pieces are my own raw emotions, not yours.
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7
Think upon the present in the present moment, but think positively. In all perspectives of life, it’s important, not only to have a positive attitude, but more importantly to keep trending the positive way of thinking, not only trending, but also to adhere and follow upon the same. In one way or other, in someway make it a habit to think positively. Give your best in the job that you have, but in doing so never give up your positive thinking, then if it means to reinitiate the thought process, definitely do it, however, always keep in mind, think positively. Sooner or later, definitely at some point in time, somewhere around the corner, a moment in time will come when you will realize and understand the power of positive thinking. Till then, keep going, don't give up in the job that you have, but make sure that you follow positive thinking, since it's a boon and helps in the long run. So keeping aside short term gains and lure for the same make it a habit, follow the same, think, but think positively.
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Jan 2, 2016
Jan 2, 2016 at 3:07 AM UTC
Think Positively