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F White Dec 2015
Sometimes, looking at you in the light of the kitchen  I want
to run a finger
Down the length of your nose but
I know you'd wrinkle it, and shake your head citing a tickle, but kiss behind my shoulder as soon
As I turn away

When my feet make ice pools in the bed
Toes accidentally brushing your ankle and you **** abruptly, but upon hearing
My sigh, trap them back with your ankles til, martyr that you are, I'm engulfed in
Warmth at your
Expense.

Sometimes the last trickle of milk is mine, for the coffee,
Silent with your eyes smiling fondly, you look on as I sip, resolutely stirring powdered
Dead baby souls into mug as substitute.

Even damp smelly socks
Greasy hair
Neurotic tears and
Intellectual rambling epiphanies

Even childish blunders, fudging the
Budget or burning the toast

You still call me fond Things.

And love Me.
The most.
Copyright fhw, 2015
Juhlhaus Mar 5
From where the bridge was, after the first plunge
Soothed the sunburnt skin and the hay-splinters
Loosed the straw stuck in ears
After I left you under the porch light
I stood alone on the other side of the night
Where poplars reached for the moon and stars
And the cows chewed on bits of memory from when
In the cobwebs and calf pens
They were brought to life by your gentle hands

You crossed two worlds to find me in the darkness
But I was not the one you were searching for
You prayed for miracles while
God stood by, arms crossed
Taking in the sunset and the clouds
Like an old tree beside a grave carefully fenced
To keep it disheveled amid tended fields
Thus the cancer had its way and I could not
Fill the void left in your heart or mine

With no more tears to soften dry leather
I put both our hearts on skewers and held them
Over the bridge's burning planks
Too close and they were immolated
Not carefully spun to stay golden and warm inside
So I packed my hollow heart full of nothing
Filled the passenger seat, until
There was only room for me and the steering wheel
And no way to turn
Jaden May 2018
why am i to spend 12 years of my life
learning the same history 12 ways
each year getting more into depth
about how straight, white, and cis,
"all" of history just happens to be
when in reality anything that was ever
deemed abnormal or harmful to america's image
just doesn't get taught.

all these years of being sheltered from the truth
about america the great
has left me with questions i'm scared will go unanswered
and so

I'd like to know which group of old white men
decided erasing history was a good idea
If i'm stuck learning about these so called achievements and revolutions which only came from the self proclaimed superiors
i'd like to know whose idea it was to forget about
The whips cracked in to bleeding black skin
Making it known that my ancestors were no more than a tool
No more than what white men, white masters made them in to
No more than a slave until 1865

I want to know who made it possible for my history teacher to ask me what my opinion on slavery is since i’m the only black kid in sight
When will they teach me why it’s okay for the 20 white kids in my class
To call me their ***** but it’s not okay for me to get mad about it

Please tell me how these people figured out
who all they should kindly choose to silence?
maybe they thought it's too much to cover in class
Since we have to have time to be taught about manifest destiny
And how Americans had every right to take land and lives
Because white men deserve to take what doesn’t belong to them
or maybe it's been deemed inappropriate
because they're too scared to admit
That America would rather hose down black kids
waiting for our skin to become clear and
praying for our melanin to wash off just so they would stop having to look at the skin they deemed sinful
than admit that America loves to make black people fearful.

When are we taught about who chose to write about all of
america's triumphs and good times but
somehow seemed to forget about the scars passed on to me from over 100 years ago
But didn’t know i had until i was ten years old.
And honestly that no longer surprises me i mean
America only speaks of cishet white guys.
and I bet you didn't know about very first *** pride.
It was a series of riots started because America decided
Loving who you want makes you unequal
And the only way to fix that is using force that’s lethal
Force that would leave lovers lives laying in the street like the never even lived
Force that led to June 28th through July 1st becoming riots that didn’t need to happen but the police couldn’t keep their privileged fingers off of *** people
But it’s fine because ignoring that part of history has become an American steeple.

At this point I know all the answers to every test asking about the history you feed us
In attempts to hide the truths of this country that wishes it never freed us
so stop teaching me the same
cis, straight, white history I've already
been taught 10 going on 11 years of my life
because i don't care about the men who wanted to keep my ancestors bound
Or the country that keeps trying to tell me that my love isn’t allowed
i care about the history they'll continue to ignore and erase.
i care about the history America begs me to forget.
Lizzy Jan 2015
Her thick brow,
Is only her choice.
A stance against norms.
2. Ribbons and flowers,
All tangled in her hair.
A decorative crown,
But beauty is not defined here.
3. She had many lovers,
Of many kinds.
But promiscuity,
Does not define worth.
4. Drink more than the men.
To dance with a love,
They can never have.
5. Politics are unimportant,
Only the ideas in your mind.
Of equality and charity,
But it will leave somebody dead.
6. Be bold and smart.
Follow your own direction,
Maybe dress like a man
7. When a trolley crashes,
Leaving you wishing for death,
Draw on your bandage.
Don’t let your broken column
Break your strength.
8. Don’t fall in love with artists,
They drink too much,
Cheat too much.
And will break your heart
9. Fall in love with artists,
A musician, maybe a painter.
You’ll never be bored,
You’ll always be drunk.
10. Just don’t let them break you,
Don’t stop painting because you’re hurt.
Don’t give them the satisfaction,
Of breaking your wings.
11. You don’t need anyone,
When you have wigs to fly.
Don’t need feet,
Or anyone else.
12. You probably feel like a freak,
Like the weirdest person you’ve ever known.
But as long as you’re weird with me,
You’ll never be weird alone.
13. Make friends with the past,
With people you’ve never known.
It’ll always be a source of security,
No one can leave that’s already gone.

I look at Frida through her paint, through her words, through the story of her life she has taught me not to be afraid.
Francie Lynch Apr 2018
Four you already know,
But I can't, I won't,
Put them in writing... allegedly.
The Fifth is my favorite.
Adrift on the Bering Strait,
On an ice flow,
Followed by habitat strained
Polar Bears.
(We'll give him an oar)
Upon landing on the opposite shore,
To be met
By a voracious, ferocious,
And *******,
Russian bear.
Five is probably too low a number.
Morgan Mercury Nov 2014
Have I ever compared you to the stars?
Have I ever described your eyes in ways that resemble constellations?
Talk to me about time.
Talk to me about the universe
in all ways that I'll never be able to understand.
Spin me around like a clock and take me back in time
to the days when stars shined brighter than these city lights.

We don't have to say a word.
Make no noise, not a sound.
Let silence fill our ears.
Let the quiet take over the earth.
Let us float in this peace,
and enjoy the time we have together.

I had a dream, however insane, that we were dancing with the cosmos.
Twirling with the burning stars,
and playing hide and seek with the spaceships.

I know that you have to leave soon
and I know that stars don't burn forever,
but lay with me here on the ground.
We'll count sheep all night until
the sun greets us in the morning letting us know
that the night is dead and gone.

It's not my fault that I fell in love with the world in you.
I see so much life in you
and I think we should stay in this position forevermore.
We will never miss another darting star,
Whirling its way passed us breaking our silence just for a second.
I wrote this after seeing The Theory of Everything.
A+ movie would highly recommend!
Ominous Oct 2013
I loved you in a way that
all my medicines would like me to
love them too
but your words have more
impact on me than all the
possible
overdoses
i could ever have.
Bill Johnston Jun 23
No way.
Yes way.
This way.
That way.
Right way.
Wrong way.
My way.
Your way.
Our way.
Their way.
One way.
Two way.
Three way?
What way?
The way?
Which Way!?
shamamama Jun 5
We weigh the ways of the woes

We woo the ways of the whys

We woo the wise with their ways

Why wait?
All these sounds, needed to be together, and perhaps there is some wisdom in the wise whys.
Rei Coman Oct 2018
There are old ways that we have forgotten,
sacred to our ancestors generations ago.
Far before men named Jesus Christ
Muhammad and Confucius,
our ancestors knew the ways to live
as enduring and resilient as the seasons.
Songs and rites, gods as ancient as the
deep green forest, and stories
of the rise and fall of great men:
Chieftains, farmers, warriors, musicians
whose songs echoed over young world.

The world was harsh then, as cold
as the towering bedrock of the mountains.
We gave thanks for what we had,
both to the gods and to ourselves.
The choice was to live strong, work hard
or die like a wounded animal.
The world was fair in the days of old,
our cares cleansed through sweat
and blood, and in the crushing weight
of the labor of survival we found peace.

Today, our peace is lost. We have
nations, such foreign things,
a group of people enslaved by custom.
The green forest has become
the fireplace of a world too gray,
the unforgiving mountains mere pebbles
beneath our trembling, dying feet.
Though our lives are calm our minds
are shattered, the breezes of indifference
blowing away the forgotten ways of old.
(Song)

Verse 1:

A gun's pressed up
Against my head
All the time
In my mind

I see a sea
Of violet red
All the time
In my mind

I feel
A pain
That Ne
Ver fades

I hear
A scream
And then
I see

Chorus:

A million ways
That I could die
I feel them all
Inside

I hope that
They will come
Come and
Take me

A million ways
That I could die
I see them
In my
Mind

I pray that
They will come
Come and
Save me

Verse 2:

The executioner
Takes my hand
And leads me to
My final stand

He asks me for
My last remarks
But I have none
Just hit your mark

Cause I feel
A pain
That ne
Ver fades

I hear
A scream
And then
I see

Chorus

Verse 3:

No I don't want
An easy death
I want to taste
My final breath

I want to feel
The sweet relief
That only death
Can bring to me

I wanna feel my
Final breath
I wanna sha ake
The hand of death

I wanna fe eel the
Sweet relief
Tha at
Death
Will
Bring

Chorus
Still
Haunted
The raindrips are dropping outside for a change,
some way I still feel them draining through my decrepit veins.

Thunderous applause for the storms that wage,
The wars that I've paid for with my strayful ways, day after day.

Come now,
Come play in the swaying waves forming aside my imminent lines,
The ones that play and play on,
Bouncing and rebounding around inside my mind(s).

Tip, typing away,
Fueled by the fires outside this time.
Each of these rampant keys seal away the pains that fray these frail heartstrings.

Filling the gutters with the utterances that speak the futile fightings,
Flying through the air,
With the nimbus lighting my way through the faintest of nighttime scenes,
Hoping these barely discernable dreams are the ones that will bring me through the day.

Easing my restless heart with the chaos rains that thunder and pour,
They sway my mind to sleep.

Pray,
that it will all be over soon,
or perhaps,
even today.
Zell Sep 2017
On the other side of the tracks, you smiled.
My train arrived before i could return the gesture.
I decided to stand by and just wait for another.
To see your face once more before we part ways again.
But the moment the train moved, yours arrived.
And you, you took the train and i missed mine.
All for the sake of you, here i am waiting again.
© 2017 D.A. Barreras
Mary Gay Kearns Mar 2018
Travelling by foot in whatever weather
I took to walking the gardens' route,
With single lens reflex camera
Still able to take the sort of pictures
That stop the eyes from wandering.
Photos in black and white
Where contrasts given a subtlety
Slowly revealing the depths
Of the familiar.

And into the park
Where rain, recently fallen,
Drenches the lens with jewels
Dropping from tree and cloud,
Sporadically,
Catching the light
With its rainbow spectrum
And collecting moments
Of nature's splendour
Into unnoticed places.

Love Mary ***
mariamme Feb 3
tonight, tatsuro yamashita
while i swirl the embers together
blow soft like a baby breeze
i feel your love all on my heart
it truly is magic, mama
the way the flames lick at me
curl my hair around your palm
and call me a goddess if it fits
i do i do i do repeats itself
you flare like this fire in my soul
it's magic, marvelously so
tatsuro yamashita - magic ways
cried, dancin' against depression.
big smiles & a fire for mi diosa.
(morning glory is great too, go listen!)

02 feb 1019
Carter Ginter May 2013
I'm so sick of being seen as someone I'm not.
Why judge by my past when the present has me changed beyond belief?
Don't hold me to my previous actions while I fight to move on myself.
You weren't there for the journey, so don't look down as though I'm below you.
I didn't see you when I was slipping; where were you while I was falling?
And now that I'm standing, you deem it okay to throw stones?
Well go ahead.
Because while you've been playing with pebbles, I've been facing mountains.
And I'm more ready today than I've ever been in my whole life.
Lately I've been really aware of the way other people perceive and treat me and it really bothers me. They act as if I'm still who I was three years ago. And while they've remained the same, I've turned into a whole new person and changed for the better. I've grown into my own opinions and faced the consequences while they've played it safe and stuck to the status quo.
JR Falk Dec 2016
One.
When my mom found us asleep in my bed at 4am and screamed at you to 'Get the **** OUT of her house,' you texted me the very next morning and asked to see me as though it never even happened.

Two.
When my family went out of town without me for Thanksgiving, we stayed the whole day at your place and watched foreign movies and ate pasta.

Three.
On our first date, we sat in your car until 3am just... talking.

Four.
When my sister really wanted that new Pokemon game and my local Walmart sold out, you voluntarily drove almost 5 towns over just so she could get it because you knew I couldn't for her.

Five.
The first time we had ***, I cried. I still don't know why. You held me the whole time.

Six.
You woke me up with tickets to one of my favorite musicians of all time, for a tour I didn't even know about.

Seven.
When my dogs died, you stayed up with my the whole night as I cried. Both times.

Eight.
The first time you kissed me was at a gas pump at 10pm after I changed out of my blouse and into my hoodie.

Nine.
You took me to Buffalo Wild Wings even though you're a vegetarian. You even put up with my singing each 2008 Billboard Top 100 song as it played. I could tell you were embarrassed for me, but you laughed and kissed me anyway.

Ten.
When I told you I hadn't been to the art museum, you took me. When I told you I'd never been to Chipotle, you took me. When I told you I hadn't felt safe in years, you made me feel the safest I ever have.

Eleven.
After you kissed me the first time, you admitted the thing that "made" you kiss me was my purple-stained lips after I ate Superman ice cream while belting out songs terribly and sitting in the passenger seat of your car.

Twelve.
When I told you that you were a terrible tipper and I was a waitress, you immediately stopped tipping terribly.

Thirteen.
You left me a voicemail telling me you appreciated me, that you felt lucky to have me, and you claimed you didn't deserve me. While I disagree, I felt it. That was the first time I heard you say "I love you" before you had actually said the words "I love you."
CJT.
I love you.

11.30.2016
11:02am
PoserPersona Jun 2018
I.
The moon sings the languid flower,
  to bloom at midnight hour
Harmonious feast transpires -
  luminescent choir

Petals mirror la hue de Luna,
  but pale below her glow
Though the desert sweet aroma,
  is fragrance plus photo

Neither causing nightly failure,
  in idyllic charm
In fact, those powers are greater,
  together than apart

II.
The moon a long gone distant rock,
  yet pulls on ocean tops
Cereus lures with sweetest tricks,
  and stings with countless licks  

Battered holy asteroid face,
 woos flawless solar gaze
And even though it causes mire,
  lunar eclipses fire

The cactus thrives in driest sands,
  and chokes in fertile lands
Alluring lonesome wanderers,
  promising mere water

The lucid beauty bewilders,
  as much as it can haunt
In fact, those powers are greater,
  together than apart

III.
You, once my cereus and moon,
  were drowned in my love well
Perhaps, I was this to you too,
  though your hole I’d not delve

However, what was first velvet,
  morphed into devil’s horns
Winter shed those thorns in my chest,
  now spring gifts hope and more

The icy grips of each winter,
  provides spring fuel to spark
In fact, those powers are greater,
  together than apart

IV.
Although we've gone on our own ways,
  I wouldn’t change the past
For each step was necessary,
  to find true love at last

We were once greater together.


I’m now greater apart.
Nic Mac Apr 2018
if it was meant,
that you could walk away?
then it was meant
that I could not make you stay.
it does not hurt me, I trust it.
goodbye my dear, departed
Kara Jean May 2016
Lonely is the only emotion I feel, sitting on the counter
Plopped down, flicking guilt
Remanence on paper, I use to heal
I chose to be ill
I'm the unattached ****** desire
Conversation not required
Tormented love, consumed and killed
Around this pole, twisted and unthrilled
Patiently waiting on something
My ******* body feels nothing
Still insanity quenches the thrusting
When will we finally become ***** and musty
I can no longer conceal our secret, smiling
Annoyed with me, I'm done hiding
Tonight I'm not grieving
Deceived, here is your rope of control
I need to find the cover for my gaping hole
William Dec 2018
Forty seven years of being lost
ended in a single moment
when I first laid eyes on you.
Found my purpose and place;
a true sense of self.
Now you must find
your own truth,
your path,
Home.
For my star.
Path Humble Jun 2018
left my phone unlocked
on the taxi’s back seat,
won't be the last time

called it a few times
finally, the driver picked up

he had a fare immediately after mine,
and was now headed way downtown,
and would call later
when fate returned him nearer my office

and so it came to pass,
very shortly thereafter,

we met on the street,
he rolled down  the window
and with the greatest smile of pleasure,
as if he had won the lottery
beaming,
handed me my phone

I had two $20's to cover any expense he might have incurred,
neatly folded in my hand  
and offered it right up, right away;
but the driver repeatedly pushed my hand away
as I insisted,
saying:

"No sir, no no, not necessary!

Allah sent me a fare
that took me soon back close to you, so,
  no loss of time did I suffer,
so your offer is kindly unnecessary!"


to which I replied,

"exactly!
Allah sent you to me
so I could reward you!"


and with an equally, beaming smile continued,

"our ride and meeting today,
together was pre-ordained it was


Inshallah!" ^

something he could not dispute...
or his amazement, disguise...

  we parted ways
   each believing,
   each receiving
a heavenly check plus,
each, credited with a mitzvah^^
on our
respective trip logs,
our humanly divine balance sheets,
kept by the
single
supreme taxi dispatcher
Arabic for ^"God/Allah willing" or "if God/Allah wills," frequently spoken by a Muslim


^^a meritorious or charitable act in the Jewish tradition

FYI,
NYC taxi cab drivers are suffering economically by the explosion of ride hailing app cars, many unable to pay their bills, earn a living, have committed suicide over the past few months
https://www.nbcnews.com/news/us-news/sixth-new-york-city-cab-driver-dies-suicide-after-struggling-n883886

true story, poetry is there for the taking
MeanAileen Mar 2017
I'm in love with a man
I know not to love,
his heart will never be free.
I waste my days
a slave to his ways-
knowing he will never love me.

He is the secret
I can never reveal,
the best lover I ever have known.
I've nothing to give
but my body.....it's his-
fresh dirt for him to bury his bone.

Hopelessly hooked
on him like a drug,
wanting him day and night.
I play his ***** game
I have no shame-
taking it all, knuckles white.

Dead is the conscience
I knew so well,
and morals.....they ran far away.
Clarity now blurry
in a love-drunk slurry-
the 'good me' has gone astray.

To lay with him
is playing with fire,
the flames...they burn me alive.
Leaving me marred
hurting and scarred-
the pain on which I thrive.

A fool for punishment
I beg for more,
even if all I am worthy of is ****.
Loving him breaks me
it overtakes me-
but I'm not willing to quit.

I die a little more
with each passing day,
until again, I get lost in those eyes....
All doubts go away
so for now I'll stay-
living this life of lies.
You can't always help who you fall in love with...
Empire Mar 7
Is it-
Is it self destructive
To look for ways
To take advantage of oneself?
To seek out pleasure
But only if it means pain?
Perhaps it's a coincidence,
But I always seem to
Be looking for
New ways
To hurt
Myself
In
Secret
Shea Feb 3
I could run away or stay
Living like a moth to a flame.
I always try to chase the light,
But the light has burned out.
And these days I'm stuck in old ways,
So where a light used to be
Is where I sit patiently
In the dark
Hoping for a flickering flame.
A million ways to change
But I’m set in my old ways
I never learned how to navigate
Trough the maze of my mistakes

Tell me stories of past days
Of Shakespeare and his plays
Of Greek gods in mythology
Without turning the page

A million ways to change
But I’m set in my old ways
I never learned how to navigate
Trough the maze of my mistakes

Whisper it in my ear
Make the monsters disappear
Wake me if I fall asleep
Or if I faint from fear

A million ways to change
But I’m set in my old ways
I never learned how to navigate
Trough the maze of my mistakes

Staving off the demons
From the depths of the unknown
From the hell that rests below us
To the heavens I call home

With a sense of accomplishment
And the skills, I have per se
It’s a daily self reminder
That all will be ok.
Nic Mac May 2018
love letters Unsent
because for you? they’re not meant.
though written in this language inspired by you.
this place discovered, with your hand, as it led me to.

but further, we were not to tread.
and some of these words, are not to be read.
thankyou's, are to be sent instead

Thank-you

for opening this door,  I could not find,
illuminating what lay behind
i to be seeing with eyes for the first time
that had not, and did not, see
what had been within my capacity
with shackles shook free.

this rusty heart begun to speak
within the flow of my ink
as paper below allowed words to sink,

but to send..was not on the agenda
you cannot hear what I shout
as past fears on ears pound
it’s not meant for you and me
not to be truly or deeply,
was it not the reason fate had written?
our stars were those, that would simply, find each other,
to find ourselves.
Dominique Dec 2018
One inhalation of the sky
To separate the murky sea
And reassure you as you cry
The clouds still hover by your knee.

Two puffs of moonlight left behind
As products of the midnight rose
Then let your sorrow be refined
As angels let their weak wings close.

Three champagne bubbles of a laugh
A courtesy sent by a friend
A flash of lightning in the dark
Like vaulting over to the end.

Step four is harder than the rest
As it depends on nature's strain
Abandon sunshine on your quest
And wallow in torrential rain.

And halfway there it's number five
And rhythm marks a saddened truth
A little song to drown alive
A beacon in such inky youth.

A devil's dance at number six
Invest in favouring your greed
Some crime electrifies the mix
Prioritise things you don't need.

At seven let yourself break free
And choke in sympathetic arms
Unscrew the lock and break the key
Because your friends contain some calm.

Except, at eight you'll be alone
Reciting old quotes that apply
And spending hours on your phone
Relating till your eyes are dry

At number nine then, here it is
The scent of fear that smells like grace
You tune your blood to lightly fizz
And brush the tears from off your face

Ten gashes end the whole ordeal
Of shortened breath and shaking hands
Though sunsets bleed the way you feel
No one else will understand

It's not a choice, it's a command.

Now your mind is stressing less
You've cured the chaos with a mess.
(Please don't follow number 10)
timmyxholiday Jan 2018
~
all the silent brides
centuries of silent brides
~
'but i made you dinner tonight'
~
.
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