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Poetic T
Only within darkness
Can our truth shine
Behold we are the candle
David Lessard
I used to read your poems
but lately you don't write
you're silent and aloof
you know that isn't right.
You can't close a door once opened
you can't abolish all your dreams
you're a poet of the heart
mustn't fall apart at the seams.
Say what you can in words
they speak the message true
spoken from the heart
the poems will see you through.
A hermit's not your style
a recluse, you are not
never give up writing
of things that you've been taught.
I used to read your poems
I'd read them once again
if you would send them out
(this one's from a poet friend)
Chris Balase
I only have 5 minutes
To spare this poetry
Here it goes:

I do not wish to be seen
Said the old man in me
So leave me alone
Cause I don't want to be

For I've been running away
This is what I hate
And I envy everyone else
Who are not in the same fate.

What have I become?
Where will I go?
The questions are left unanswered
And I've searched high and low.

To be strong once more
In my world full of doubt
To be strong while I lose
In my latest bout.

I wish I had more time
Just like before
I only have 5 minutes
And I wish I had more.
Prithvi Gude
And she was tired, but not of me.
She’s such a sleeping beauty,
That I could stare at her all day.
Look at her, God! Just look at her
This day can’t get any better.
Isn’t she pretty, like some deity?

She blushes, she smiles,
She looks at me, from miles
All this while, looking at her
I realize already, that I’m into her
She doesn’t speak a lot,
Her eyes do it, taking her part
Whenever I say I love you,
Her lips go wide
From smile to grin,
Grin to blush
If this isn’t worth falling for,
What is?

She lifts me up, when I’m down,
She thrashes me, when I’m dumb
She cooks for me, when I want it the most
She showers love on me, when I need her the most.

And then she hugs me tight,
All worries were out of my sight.
That’s when I know, I’m hers,
No worries, Coz she already knows, she’s mine

~ PG
Tanisha Jackland
She Comes.

By way of storm.

the waters winding
in a fury of death.

And She. is painting
the sky


For now.
You have been warned take heed everybody...reduce your carbon footprint as much as you can.
Nat Lipstadt
honor: “you stumble where gods get lost”


still the tattoo being drawn on my senses,
unresolved and demanding
solution or surrender,
acknowledging, that I am not poet enough

tho y’all keep diverting me with poem commissions,
half started but will freezer keep until Jacob’s angel and I
have wrestled this honor notion to the ground for good,
which means once and forever

Patti’s words distinctly heard:
“you stumble where gods get lost”
and that’s what the poetry is for,
to word wrestle until the resolution revelation shines
and someone cries out uncle, father, son, are we not all
samed and shamed when we wrestle with honor

will you know honor when it presents itself?

a man keeps his word and another honors them both
with a monthly sum that says friendship is a promise kept

a father texts to a son in trouble “got your back” that elicits
a return verse of “I love you;”. that’s love, not honor cause someone remembers their immigrant father’s hell going slowly by and this poem and that memory revived, that’s honor

(******* tears on my phone screen, a ****** pain @6:53am
on sabbath morn; no body invited the interlopers;  not me anyway)

honor is not a parade or not the kind on my mind today: the honor that gets you medaled that’s all about brotherhood,
that’s a different kind of honor I understand but not what I’m
about right wright write now

looking for small acts, small doses, nearly invisible to the naked
eye, indeed, ya need a scrunched up squint to detect the honor that I need so desperately seek to theorem proof that,
even I got some

one of you wrote me, I am nothing.
one of you wrote me,
that they are all busted up on the boulevard of broken dreams.

trusting a stranger thru his crazier poems with depreciation and overwhelming sadnesses,
is that honor?

my rsvp (how could I not), is that honor?

honor sought in the small necessities which are more important than small kindnesses wrought from love: those come easy natural

necessary necessity, the word itself bleeds pressure on the soul; but i don’t mean paying your bills, burying your parents and such stuff;

honor is in the unnecessary:  where actions defeat uncertainty, honor is stepping up when no one calls out need

honor is the first step the hand extended and the concomitant
electric shock that traverses two hands in a shake that obviates
unnecessary words
like thank you

which why gods stumble, get lost, they only get praise conferred
but honor belongs only to us humans,
to give honor.
that’s power gods don’t got,
why they oft get lost

so thank you for staying with me this far,
you honor me by listening to an old man
seizing up when his mind asks him direct

did you live with honor,
and tho the summing up s’ain’t over,
(lol laughing, at the ain’t autocorrect),
at least now I know what to count,
what counts,
doing the unnecessary unasked
in small ways, a quieter doing good,
honor needs two and starts when you say hey
hey you...

*7:36am Saturnday  2+10+18
Shabbat Shekalim
writ without disguise
guy scutellaro
the average cost of a funeral is

death is unaffordable for me

put me in  big oblong cardboard box

2 feet by 3 feet by 6 feet

packing list enclosed

fragile (not really)
      please handle with care

keep upright



send me to the
grande vide

postage due
little words, little reminders of you
forming little stories in my brain
of when you lived in it
ill never see certain words the same
because all i can think about
is your handwriting
and the way you say
these little words.
Oh honey,
Sometimes it’s the timing that’s wrong
Not you.
It’s raining,
And I wish you were here.
Because, and I know it’s cliché,
But I’m falling a lot harder
Than this rain, and dear,
It’s torrential here.
But these sheets of rain
Remind me of the sheets we share,
And I’d just as quickly
Wrap myself up in them
If I thought you were in there, too.
It’s 101° there.
But here it’s raining.
And I miss you.
It's never mattered what others think of me.
As I now look back on my life, this was true
when I was growing up--in grade school, for
example. I had some friends;  I even had my
first girlfriend, Virginia Bright, whom I met
in the fourth grade. I had a dream about her
and the next day I chose her to read after I
had. She invited me to her church on Sunday
evenings to learn how to square dance. As I
continued to grow up, I got elected co-captains
and presidents, but I didn't seek them out--
they just seemed to come to me. I remember
I used to say hello to--befriend--classmates
who were not popular, most likely because
they were of a different race than most of us;
I didn't even think about our superficial
differences--I just liked them. That's the way
it's been my whole life. Perhaps over the
decades I grew to understand that bigots,
racists, were the way they were because
they, as they were growing up, never were
loved enough, if at all, and as a result suffered
great emotional pain, pain so great they un-
consciously tried to repress it, but could not,
so they unconsciously compensated for their
lack of being loved by accruing megawealth,
achieving power, not to empower others,
but to oppress them, and/or by gaining
fleeting fame. I feel sorry for these people.
Everyone needs to be loved.

Solaris Lanayru
Don't listen to that voice
The one within your mind
That tells you everything is going to be okay

Because it's not

You know it's not

You struggle every day and every night
Always tired of this fight
It draws you in and lures you too far
Then you're trapped and there's no going back
So why bother?

Why bother?
Why care?
It's not like anyone is there
To hear you cry out for help
Or to see you reach out desperately

So you sit there and you cry

Until the one you truly love comes along
To pull you back from the depths of the hell within your head
Katherine Storm
He stretched out his hand
& Caught Me.
That's how I fell into the abyss.
Love is a double-edged sword. Wield it well.
Larry Schug
If you fold up your paper,
turn off your radio and TV,
sit on the steps and sip your tea,
watch the birds and speak no words
as the sun rises yellow and round,
making rainbows on the dewy lawn,
you could fool yourself into thinking
there’s no ****** war going on.
Ariana Bagley
I love him
I tell myself
I know that
We will be together forever
I don’t believe that
We could be separated
My thoughts tell me that
He’s the love of my life
Sometimes my heart lies and says
I could live an eternity
Without him
Like my friends say
“We’re perfect for each other”
And you can’t tell me
He’s not the one.

Now read from bottom to top.
my eyes are cups:
i raise them up
so tears don't spill
Mike Hauser
If all of this looks normal
And never once makes you blink
If you ride the tide to whatever side
Flows into group think

If you do all they tell you to
And then ask them for more
If you play their game and all receive the same
Trophy at the door

If you nod in Bobble Head fashion
With their version of the truth
Never stepping off to question
Then maybe you've been brainwashed too

If you scream out heebie-jeebies
When opposite shows it's hand
And instead of calmly asking
It's more of a demand

If you turn blue when you talk green
And all you see is red
If in your realm of tolerance
You wish the other side was dead

If your blindfold covers both heart and head
On what is the gospel truth
The only conclusion there is left
Is maybe you've been brainwashed too
Andy Chunn
Now that we are here, let’s make the most of it
Cling to every moment, embracing every bit
For life is but a fleeting thing, and time moves lightning fast
We must savor every second, and make each moment last

Let's cherish all the beauty, that surrounds us every day
And give thanks for every blessing, that comes along our way
Let's hold each other close, and cleave to lasting love
For it surely will endure, with the blessings from above

So live life to the fullest, make every moment count
For now that we are here, there’s no reason to have doubt
Together we can conquer, united we stand strong
Now that we are here, we know we all belong
The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.
A little escape from the madness.
Or maybe, into.
I still pine
       for what I’ve lost
               the promise and

I still search my memory
                for hidden fragments
                                 of that treasure.

     Time has covered
                some of them in
                            shadows of nostalgia.

     But the flaming pain
                        still brightly burns and
                                      tears will not extinguish it.
Sometimes I feel like a broken record.  Healing much too slowly.
Scattered books and pens
A noose hanging from the roof
The ink running dry
First attempt in Haiku,
I wrote it a couple months ago during the final exams.
You reached for the stars
and put them in my eyes

I keep them locked
behind my eyelids


that you´ll change
your mind
let me listen to you
your hidden landscapes
your lives lost
in velvety oblivion

listen to the streams of blood
throbbing at your wrist
in the tender flesh inside your elbow

listen to the vulnerable intensity
in the soft vale at your collarbone

the silence on your lips
the whirls below

listen through you
to these things that one cannot speak

by Ioana Ieronim from Ariadne's Veil
your name is
forbidden in
my mouth
or in my heart
because when
i think about

i'll cry a little more,
hurt a little stronger
love a little softer
because you no longer
make me feel sober

i'm drunk on the
memory of you
if only i could chase you with pizza but shots don't work like that
Poetic Eagle
some people break your heart just to see you bleed
Felix Hackberry
every morning i crave
to sleep tiny bit more
at complete peace
pure exit lens

and every night i wish
to stay awake little longer
at complete ease
pure existence
the perfect palindrome
on your last day
the sun was shining
and big white clouds ran across the sky

someone held you tight
and told you, "i love you"
admired you
and cherished you

on your last day
all of your love poured out

you inspired
and you soared
you lived
and you died

your love remains
She said "I'm falling in love."

I said "I'm falling apart."
What's the difference?
Thomas W Case
There is a gravity to
sadness; it pulls me
downward into a
deep dark well.
I can't climb out.
It's my own private hell.
I pray for levitation.
I jump, only to fall.
I feel forgotten.

I put one foot in
front of the other,
and I will rise.
I move on.
Hope returns like
a long lost friend,
and I find my sanctuary.
I have 2 and a half weeks sober  I went to the hospital and had 2 withdraw seizures.  I fell and hit my head, I got a concussion and a small brain bleed, I am hopeful.
Niki Gray
Pain is better than numbness,
because at least I can feel
my life not just move through it.
Thank you for taking the time to read my poetry.  Also a thank you to all my family and friends that remind me to be the best me I can be.  Thank you Sheela, Courtney, Christian, Favour, my daughter Sydney and my son James.  Also, a big thank you to my husband Jim.
They said,
"The most beautiful art is
looking into someone's eyes
when they talk about the
things they love.
And I said,
"Or looking at someone you love.
Or maybe, just maybe,
by looking at the mirror
is the most beautiful art
anyone should appreciate."
Appreciation post for myself; for you and for everyone as well. You deserve more than the world has to offer.
Some days I am swimming,
most days I am sinking.
There is never a day where I
can simply just float.
sometimes I wish I had cancer
then people would send me flowers, and get well soon cards.
but I am bipolar
so when I am sick
I suffer alone, ashamed
because too many times
people synonymously use my illness for crazy.

-please stop
keep your eyes closed love.

           e     t      
       m           i
    o                 m
s                        e  
                            s     all you have to
                                                                ­ l                  is to what the sound
                                                           ­      i            n
                                                  ­                s           e
                                                               ­          t

                                                              ­                               v
                                                               ­                         a        e
                             ­                                          of the  w               s
                         ­                                                                 ­            tells  you
                                                                ­                                        to do.
"Keep your eyes closed, love. sometimes all you have to listen is to what the sound of the waves tells you to do."

When I was much younger, beaches were my second favorite places. I still love watching waves as they go by, crashing against each other and the whole process repeating all over again.
Everything starts
As a blank canvas
Just waiting
To be given meaning
I give meaning to myself
To use a statistic to describe poverty
is to turn a human being into a number,
the antithesis of compassion.

Yet The World Bank, The International
Monetary Fund, The United Nations--
all use statistics when talking and writing
about poverty.

Nazis turned human beings into numbers
by using indelible ink when they wrote them
on the arms of those they soon were to ****.

One human being in poverty on Earth is
one too many.

My nouns are different:
starvation, hopelessness, illnesses,
slums, violence, death.

There are over 3,000 billionaires in the
world right now.

How much has each given to end world
poverty? How many of them have held
in his or her arms the body of a child
dying of poverty?

Not enough, not nearly enough.

Whether a comma, or colon:
Punctuation slows my rolling
I need no period. When I end
no Capitalization when I begin
Rulelessly I flow my art
  Not a single!
Exclamation mark
Are you not the one
Who'll know?
Where a question mark
No longer goes

Warp the structure
Bend the lines
Put in repeat
Let emotion unwind
Make yourself
Your poetry's the best
Be your own ruler
Pass your own test

Take your own road
Where ever it leads
Lover or hater
It's all poetry!
Traveler Tim

No matter who you are
You have my deepest respect!

All is vanity
The meanings of passion
The aesthetic expression
The lines we draw and stay within
Even love is beyond intent
Vanity transcends
Flowing from our pens
And so we breathe again
Rupert Pip
Break my bones;
cut my throat.
Pull me open,
learn the ropes.

Breath me in;
taste the fear.
Shank my skin;
stand and cheer.

Kick my head;
let me bleed.
Unbolt my veins;
enjoy the read.

Gouge my eyes;
punch my face.
Wrap me up
in your embrace.
Get to know me like I do you; inside and out.
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