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 1447° 
Farah Taskin
'Do or Die '
said I
'Why¿?'
queried they
'Ikigai '
I murmured in reply
 950° 
Albamaine
Be ready to say "goodbye"
When you have the guts to say "hello"
Interpolation of all the hello and goodbye poems
 859° 
F Elliott

There are men whose names are not remembered,
but whose breath stirs the veil between realms.

They possess no oxen, no golden inheritance,
only the weight of many souls carried in silence—
some wrapped in tenderness,
some lost to hunger,
some gifted to them like riddles in human skin.

Their wealth is not measured in coin,
but in what they’ve been asked to hold,
and in how long they choose to hold it
after the fire comes.

One such man lived,
not in Uz or Ur,
but in the crease between battle cries and bedtime prayers.
He walked beneath the eye of heaven
and bore a covenant that no one else could see—
except perhaps the ones who left him.

Among the names he carried
was a flame
so luminous,
the watchers behind the veil turned their gaze sideways
and whispered to one another:


“That one—she is worth a thousand hills.”

---

And so began the unraveling.

The girl became a gate.
A field.
A kingdom in peril.

And the shadows,
long held at bay by her breath and memory,
moved to claim her under the guise of delight.
They clothed themselves in cadence,
anointed her with affirmation,
and crowned her with a chorus of well-crafted lies.

She smiled—
because what is possession
when it feels like belonging?


---

In another place,
the man who carried her name
did not break.

He did not rage.
He did not plead.

He simply stood
in the dirt he was formed from
and remembered that God had once
breathed into clay.

He wrote.
Not to win.
Not to fight.

But to remain.

And something in that stillness—
that refusal to perform—
became a mirror.

A mirror so polished,
so unbearable in its clarity,
that the shadows who came to feed
began to see their own faces
reflected in the place they hoped to claim.

---

The cattle were not lost.
They were transfigured.
The sons were not dead.
They had become winds.
And the daughters?

The daughters returned
only when no one chased them.

---

The man’s armor was not steel.
It was witness.
It was the quiet weight of staying.
Of being the one who did not run
when every echo told him to fall.

He bore the shape of a shield
not forged by war,
but by worship.

A shield of shining dirt.

And it gleamed not because it was flawless—
but because it remembered the breath
that first made it rise.

---

Let the hills be counted.
Let the goats be wild.
Let the watchers name what they will.

But know this:

There are men who will stand in silence
until the storm mistakes them for stone.
And in that stillness,
there are things that shift beneath the veil—


not because they are provoked,

but because they have been
seen.



[Author’s Note — from the desk of the Terminator]
Don’t get too worked up. This isn’t a dagger—it’s a mirror.
This is just me, sharing what I’ve seen from the edge.
If it cuts, it’s only because you forgot where your own blade was buried.

This isn’t about revenge.
It’s about remembering what God first breathed into the dirt
before anyone started building altars to themselves.


https://youtu.be/zF8Wnf7Q8jA?si=q15nDeSXmTbBrJnU
 755° 
Anais Vionet
“There’s a cow at the table,” I whispered, not wanting to be rude.
It’s horns curled like question marks, which seemed quite Apropos
Now that I’ve been to college, I can tell you, there’s a lot that I don’t know.
But a cow at the table, no matter how well dressed, left me, well, confused.
“How do you Dooooo?” I offered, friendships should begin straightforwardly.
When it didn’t answer, I thought, “Well this friendship’s starting off awkwardly.”
Was it hard of hearing? I wondered. “Have you mooooved here recently?” I asked, loudly.
Again, nothing, it just sat there proudly. Did it take my attempt at dialect, as a sign of disrespect?
“Would you like some fooood? I asked, “Some hay maybe?” I was guessing, but it was a guest.
Some friendships start out slowly, but holy-moley, was this livestock trying to troll me?
After some aggravation, and impatience, it turned out to be an elaborate, fraternity initiation.
.
.
*Based on Leonora Carrington’s painting “Then We Saw the Daughter of the Minotaur.”
https://www.moma.org/artists/993-leonora-carrington
VB Challenge: The surrealist painters Remedios Varo and Leonora Carrington moved to Mexico during the height of World War II, where they began a life-long friendship. Write a poem themed around friendship, with imagery or other ideas taken from a painting by Carrington, and a painting by Varo.
 717° 
Filomena Rocca
In the midst of love
I'm reminded suddenly
I'm incapable
 702° 
McKenna Christine
i don’t know why i haven’t grown tolerance to this pain. this habit. i’m totally self aware. i don’t want it to end. it still hurts just as much as it did a year ago. we were better a year ago. this aches in every way i never wanted it to. i don’t know why i can’t let go of something i was never even fully trusted to hold onto. it’s an illusion. why do you always leave the door open when you leave? while we’re at it, could you tell me just how many shared laughs we need to complete our prophecy?
& honey, wait,
is that really what you mean?
please baby,
just ******* spell it out for me.
I never thought i could be this tired. this weak. you’ve left me as a fragment of the woman i used to be.
A common thread our swanky prance
Obdurate circles while we dance
Harmonious we'd make romance
And for each other we'd enhance
With eloquent and wanton stance
While willingly we take the chance
To reach across unknown expanse
And though akimbo not askance
We flaunt unfettered by durance
While at each other we would glance
As if enraptured by a trance
 477° 
Mike Adam
100 years
Not enough
To settle into
Wrinkling bag-

No sooner wisdom
Calms the mind

We are found out

And gone
 463° 
Decembre
Sometimes
I need words
To understand
What I feel

(And sometimes
I want to be told
Only to remember
I know what I feel after all
Or at least I know
That it’s not that)
Process of elimination is a good place to start when lost, I think
 302° 
S R Mats
My mind: Go from here!
And do not grace my door again,
Nor walk across this floor.

Yes, old habits die so hard
And often these leave you
Screaming for more.

But I am no longer addicted to you.
 273° 
Asher
you
i think i found peace,
you and i were not meant to  
but i still look back.  

someone checks my list,  
life is full, bright, and moving,  
yet you cross my mind.  

was it even love?  
then i feel how much i cared,  
yes, it surely was.
 223° 
Malouka
And I wondered how can it be felt that effortlessly
                                                                                                                                                The feeling of not being left out, when that one leaves
                                                                                                                                                Only then you remember my existence and that I’m here
                                                                                                                                                Seasons went by and you’ve travelled the world with that one in mind
                                                                                                                                                Yet I’m still stuck here waiting for you but you never came
                                                                                                                                                It wasn’t about being busy as you said, I just wasn’t the priority
                                                                                                                                                That feeling of uneasiness in my chest that I get when
                                                                                                                                                 I realize I didn’t mean as much as you did for me
                                                                                                                                                When I’m included only when others aren’t available
                                                                                                                                                 It feels like there’s a void in my heart surrounded by endless solitude
                                                                                                                                                 But can it be filled when I’m no longer the backup friend, your “Plan B”?....
 220° 
Sean Maloney
This fruit tastes like nothing
I think after brushing my teeth
This apple juice tastes sour
Yet still I drink, fearing being noticed
Morning anxiety, morning problems

You’re not here
And I know it’s okay, because you’re safe
I’m just stuck keeping my thoughts to myself
Yet if you weren’t here, I’d have never opened
Morning loneliness, morning problems

I feel sick
Every morning
Nothing can fix it
It only goes away when I tell you about it
Or I can’t worry about it
Because I’m worrying about you
Morning sickness, morning problems

So are you my queen in gold armor
Because you seem to fight off
The morning problems
 202° 
badwords
mag·ic
/ˈmajik/
noun
1: the power of apparently influencing the course of events by using mysterious or supernatural forces.

2: any obfuscation that conceals reality
 186° 
DEVENDER Kumar
The spring,
Flowers Magic
Spreads fragrance all around,
Pain of separation pangs hearts,
The Love
 180° 
Timmy Shanti
Quante pagine sono scritte dell’amore
I fiumi di inchiostro che scorrono nelle nostre vene
Quante canzoni cantate
Mozzafiato, commoventi, strazianti
Quante lacrime pianto
(Meglio le lacrime piante che le lacrime nascoste e trattenute)
Quanto tempo perso
Quanti sensi trovati
Quante guerre combattute

E non si ferma mai
Non si prende pausa
Non si fa niente
Non si fa

Eppure siamo noi, le pagine
Su cui la vita scrive la sua storia
Lettera per lettera
Parola per parola
Frase per frase

Domande, risposte, ricerche
Doglianze, sospiri, gioie e dolori

Non si sa dove porterà il cammino
O quante pagine sono rimaste nei nostri romanzi

Ma tuttavia si tira via

Cercando, sognando, aspirando

Siamo noi, le pagine scritte dell’amore
20.04.2025
 166° 
Geof Spavins
I stand on mountains, tall and free,
Not just by strength, but what you see.
Your kindness lifts, your light inspires,
Filling my soul with boundless fires.

The valleys low once held my fears,
But now they shimmer, calm and clear.
For every step, for every climb,
Your voice resounds - “You are divine.”

So here I stand, with skies so wide,
Heart unfurled, filled with pride.
You lift me up, you help me soar,
Now grounded strong, yet wanting more.
 164° 
MT Browder
no need to find fault to prove you're paying attention, find the good that no one else sees, and be blessed alone
Tired
Brain unwired
Weary
Everything bleary
Yawning
Grabbing air
Sleep
We’re there!
 162° 
ghost girl
i think the
irony

befits such an
ending -

you,
settled

me,
altered

permanently
unsettled

a trace of
you forever

running through
my veins
 157° 
Travis Green
I exalted his ink-drenched tattoos
His artfully wicked physique
His boldly built biceps
His eye-drinking thighs
His lust-thick legs
His dominantly solid feet

He made everything around me freeze
He made me fall apart at the seams
I couldn’t explain it, but every part of me
Unraveled in the vicinity
Of his resplendent masculinity

I was powerless against his splashiness
So weak for him
So soft on his rugged, treasured charm
His devastatingly enamoring realm
Of unprecedented handsomeness

He was the only one
That could enter my mind
Devour me day and night
Stir up my sensations
And make me surrender to him
 151° 
janie lay
i want to peel your skin back
and reveal your deepest sweetness.
to look at your veins
and memorize their paths.
maybe then i’d understand
why you are so rough on the outside.
it takes a lot of work,
digging your fingernails into the flesh,
pulling and pulling until you are bare.
but it is all worth it;
to visit your center,
to break past what conceals you,
and take you apart
slice by slice.
 139° 
Dianali
It was cold in your dorm.
I choked on my silences.
I felt unwelcome,
and briefly— desired.

You walked me to the stop,
Said I was almost running—
As I waited for my bus,
the plastic bench felt cozier.
 128° 
Nevaeh
I hate that I like her
cause i don’t know what my friends would think
especially since her friends mess with my friends,
I hate that I like her
cause I don’t think she likes me,
I hate that I like her
cause my past relationships,
it’s not her fault but
that’s what everyone says,
I hate that I like her
cause what if it does work out and I mess it up,
or what if I make things awkward,
I hate that I like her
cause what if it does ruined the way she sees me,
or what if she never talks to me at all,
or what if she embarrassed me
by telling her friends,
I hate that I like her
cause what if her friends
mess with her cause of me.
I hate that I like her.
 126° 
John Prophet


Winds of
creation
blow.
Stirring the
cauldron.
Mixing the
cosmos.
Alchemy
of the
heavens.
Spinning
gas.
Gravity
crush.
Stars
ignite.
Furnaces of
conception.
Elements
forged.
Explode,
reform.
Explode.
Element­s
seeding
the void.
Planets
form
element
rich.
Touch
of the
Alchemist.
Ignite.
Genesis!
Elements
come alive.
Evolve.
Simple
to complex.
Architect
designed.
Over and
over.
Playing
out.
Ultimate
goal?
Not for
mere
mortals
to know.
 115° 
Nolan Bucsis
Run boldly into the redundant.
Bravely wave the flag.
Of dying arts.

We will ride the corpse.
Of inconsequential.

Imperfect.

Until we break through inconsequential.
Into a meaning.
Expressed in a dead language.

A thought you had.
That you couldn't express.

Don't go softly into that still night.

Die hard.
Leave a mark.

Reside in the faults.
 112° 
maybesophie
waiting, wishing, wanting

fly, be free

to the sky—to the clouds

soar away from the burdens of today

fly to tomorrow
If you’re reading this hiiiii xoxox I’m just daydreaming
 95° 
Reynaldo Casison
All midnight long
Singing a love song
With the Midnight rain

Reynaldo Casison
 89° 
kevin
the construction of pre mage
special topic aggression
as if it's pertinent we needs
speaks of breaks in water rights
imaginary cautious hague riddles
laughing gold inseems
 88° 
Aarav
I have all the fortunes, the riches,
The world knows me for great fame.
I can visit the mountains, the beaches,
For there is not a sole to blame.

I don't have the greatest wealth,
The world may not know my presence.
Mountains, the beahces, I may not take their breath,
The world's elegance, I may not have their sense.

The mountains, I savour alone,
The beaches, I savour alone.
The entire globle is where I roam,
Never to find a place I can call home.

I live in normalcy, it might seem no strain,
I don't experience luxury, it's a life quite plain.
Every moment is spent with mates, with family,
Their timeless love is what makes the ordinary, extraordinary.
Fame is a question of perspective, but many times misunderstood.
 88° 
collin
you’re busy playing wordle in a ******* bathroom
you’re talking to your future self inside a vacuum
you only know their songs from one of the guitar hero games
but you’ll wear the t-shirt all the same
 87° 
Violet
If I die, would you cry,
Or just let the moment slide by?
Would i be in your mind,
Or maybe fade with the tides we left behind?

Would the silence feel like pain,
or pass you, just like the rain?
i dont seek for fame or your time,
Just a whisper of my name.
 86° 
fariha
people keep telling me to text him less,
dont reply immediately,
let him search for me,
let him call me first,
but why?
why do i have to show less love to be treated properly?
when i have all the love inside me to give?
even if it will end up hurting me one day,
it will be his loss at the end of the day,
because why?
he didnt realize that someone was capable of loving him more than he could ever give to himself,
and i am not ashamed of loving.
 85° 
cinnamongirl
It’s not my fault or hers
It’s the man's fault for being a perv
But no, let's blame the woman
For just existing and turning
 82° 
T
If you wanted to tear my life apart,
tell me you always thought the future would be ours,
too.

And you did.
As if my heart wasn’t yours already
I’m enamored by your charm
The one with bells and whistles
That sounds like an alarm
It wakes me up from stagnant times
It fills my heart with joy
Like that special feeling
Between a girl and boy
The reason I’m believing
Is the reason why I care
You’re an angel sent before me
To help me get prepared
Prepared to live and prosper
To show no signs of fear
Then we can live in Paradise
With peace between our ears
 77° 
DL
Ever wonder why we have dreams
Every night I  fall asleep
And I would dream about you
It's so strange that it's always about you

I always dreamt of being the best
For you and be just with you
All the time I always dream
About you it's out of control

I don't even know when this
Dreams of mine started
I don't even know why
It just happened to be you
 76° 
Jesus' baby
"Crucify Him"
"Crucify Him!"—
The echo cracked the sky,
Yet He stood—
A storm in silence,
Pain braided with purpose.

Lifted high
On timbered shame,
He whispered,
"It is finished..."
and the veil obeyed.

Time hurtled forward—
Empires fell,
Hearts turned,
Billions touched by the whisper
Of eternal breath.

Death died that day.
Hell held a wake too soon.
He made a theater of their fall—
Stripped shadows,
Shamed the prince of dusk.

And when the third dawn broke,
Graves gasped.
The stone blinked open,
And trembling winds whispered—
He lives.

Now,
Time bows to Truth.
The Saviour reigns,
Not behind clouds,
But in crowned hearts.

Death swings a broken sword,
Still raging
In a war already lost.
"Having disarmed principalities and powers, He made a public spectacle of them, triumphing over them in it."
—Colossians 2:15 (NKJV)
 74° 
Samar
Blu
Endless are the skies – deeper are thine
eyes.
Breathless nearby. Could I just die?
The hollow heart - the weight of air.
I glance thee -  heaven I see.

The sorrows I held -the dreams I fear
The nights I cry - to thine eyes , I pray.
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