Gord
2021-12-14 04:44 am
One last deal, a man's feet, Glass sharp as steel, Half free, half demand, Protect land from the sea. Footing, Looking up, Good enough, discuss, Bullshit words, wooden result. All I can see is the head: Bad feeling in the bed, If only I could fold my hands, Lean, sleep and dream. The chaos I would see.
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Paulopalztheripper
2021-09-18 02:40 pm
#THE RIPPER# Do yourself a favour When he hurts you Do not do fit a hug My hands will be tied When he abandons you Do not seek refuge in me I would have gone abroad When he despises you Do not come for my live I would be short if feelings My heart has gone sour Bleed out cold and dead My humanity's been shut I have gone all black and grey My heart seems to be missing Emotions are long gone I have accepted grief and pain Sadness and misery now clothe mW Love's been sent out of my window When he abandons you Your face ruthlessly smashed to he ground Your arms brutally ripped apart Your body gracefully cut to pieces, but by bit When I think of you Even hope despairs Faith has its doubt Bravery now shivers Your slow and painful death Is all I await For I am the ripper. đźš« #paulopalz# #theripper#
Gord
2021-04-16 04:35 am
Last living lemming, No house to live in, No Chandeliers; Next exhibit, Next exhibition, Spoke of past tense in English, Fluent in other languages; An Eccentric Mystic, Poetic Lyrics, and their beginnings; One carves caverns, Of all manner of rock, What matters of master? The afterthought.
Ell
2021-03-14 06:42 pm
I feel like an empty vessel cast away The only thing that hits my hull is the slap of a choppy wave I have no crew on board they all found the challenge to much The cargo I have is overflowing from deep within my hull The milk has soured & the whey of the milk is all I am able to smell I once was loved in such a way, the strength of it filled me up I know it is hard to see not that I am old & withered up The way she pulled me towards her, like there was always a rope connecting us The feeling this gave to me is far too much to describe I know that is is hard to see now that my ropes have frayed away The sails are saggy, no wind will fill them up My rudder seems to be broken, around in circles is the only way it goes I fill with dizziness, that is all too much & reminds me of the day the love went away I know I will never dare love again, this old hull can not handle it all again So I will keep going in circles seeing the same thing There is no joy, no crew to fix me up. The old milk, in the old vessel has been left on its own The stench will never leave.
Igor Goldkind
2021-02-12 12:44 am
LIVING WITH UNCERTAINTY What if we thought of this uncertainty as Jews consider our Sabbath— As a sacred space in time? Stop traveling. Stop buying and selling. Stop working. Give up trying to make the world better than it is. Instead, sing. Dance. Pray. Write songs and recite poetry. Paint the pictures from your eyes. Walk amongst the leaves and the stars. Touch only those to whom you have committed your life. Sit down. And when your mind and body have become still, Reach out with your heart. Know that we are connected in ways that are both terrifying and beautiful. No one can deny that now. Do not reach out with your hands. Reach out with your heart. Reach out with your words. Reach out with all the curled tendrils Of compassion that connect us invisibly, To where we cannot touch each other.
Lynn
2021-02-08 01:19 am
quite literally they cannot spill out of my mouth into the toilet bowl fast enough green, neophyte, insensate swirling around in the clear, shallow water, they almost look like they are swimming ancient, ferric, turpentine its midnight on sunday afternoon and the morning never felt so far away verily, salt, halcyon pulling the lever, they swirl away, the letters sloshing together into a murky soup gestalt, vermilion, fear they turn into equations with no solutions when i bring my hand away from my mouth, wiping ouroboros, nineteen, baseless i know better than to brush my teeth golden, gale, corridor i know better than to go back to bed right after demilune, murmur, mirror linoleum, throat, nightgown listless, lucid, dreamer
Lynn
2021-01-13 05:29 pm
holding the box between two fingers so it does not fall the hand is not pandora’s; she has been dead for centuries inside the lid, an amateur’s attempt at a cumulonimbus the sky behind them greener than the clouds before a tornado the clouds themselves whiter than the dust after what will become of the box? will it house bangles and bracelets and small forgotten memories? will the hinges rust and the sky become separated from the ground? will it ever find its way home?
Gord
2020-11-24 05:18 am
And what is knowledge, Seeking cage or collar, Blue, An ocean fathered, Or Purple, red and other; Purple, being safe, Circle, being safe, Purple screaming veins, Journal speaks of rage. Press candles, pages, Stress handled in stages.
Gord
2020-11-19 01:01 am
Bindle stiff of simple things, Fake brickwork buildings, Frugal beginning. Mind filled with bitterness, Still feeling ideas stone: Life constatant, slowly. Hands in gauze and clovers, One makes a river of oceans, A farm of forests, dogs of horses. Yet smashes up against the stone, Dark and lonely, eyes gloss over.
Petar Kostadinov
2020-11-02 10:04 am
“Writers ———————- Have gentle souls Have a heart of a sunshine The one written word they paint From their lives with each brush in their hands The good times The bad times The treasured of times Their words are best told From its beginning to no ending They paint each season They create each reason They form each line As they stand even at the bus line As they wait for their train to arrive As they drive their car they must stop At the parking stop and quickly write Otherwise they will lose their track of Song they want to sing” (c)10/31/2020 by Petar Kostadinov
Innasense
2020-10-10 09:54 pm
Warning: this is looooooong and if you’re a sensitive individual the first parts may bother you. But hopefully the last part will inspire you. Speak your truths friends. The ones who matter will love you all the harder. #worldmentalhealthday Hidden Stories They smiled, jokingly told her she looked tired, “Must’ve partied hard last night.” Smile quietly returned, “just didn’t sleep too well I guess.” She didn’t tell them how hard it was to get out of bed this morning, How sleep never came last night, How it felt like the darkness would just swallow her whole, How she felt hollow and empty and there weren’t any tears left, just an ache deep within that wouldn’t subside. And maybe if she just squeezed her eyes shut and stayed in that bed in the blacked out void, She wouldn’t have to face another day of faked smiles and “I’m ok” lies. “Just tired today I guess.” “It’s warm today man!” “What’s with the long sleeves all the time?” “Got some crazy tattoos under there?” He smiled, laughed along with them, Self-consciously ran his hands over his wrists. Over the bandages binding his secrets. They didn’t know how close he got last night, how he almost let go, How so much blood, HIS blood swirled down the drain, mixing with his tears. He was sure no one would miss him, but he wondered if he would miss this world, And the good days out in the sun, Few and far between as they were. What would they say if he were gone tomorrow? “You should’ve come out with us last night. You would’ve had so much fun...” She nodded and made those “next time” promises, though she knew they were lies. She’d stay home again, Wrapped in the icy grips of loneliness, Which felt somehow better than her burning cheeks when the right words just wouldn’t come, or the wrong ones spilled out, and she felt their eyes on her, Panic rising, thoughts frozen Wishing she’d just stayed home, Away from the judgement, And all the wrong moves she always made “Haven’t seen you around in a while! Doing ok?” His mouth smiled, head nodded, lips formed words he’d said so often, automatic. Because, really, he thought, How could I describe that moment last night, body curled up with forehead cold against the kitchen floor, Ears covered to block out the voices, Silent screams wracking his body as the panic overwhelmed him, No breath to speak, And who could he call anyway, How would he explain these moments of pure fear that slipped in unnoticed and become everything, took everything, until he was a shivering shell of himself. Sometimes he wondered, if they could see through him, would they think him weak? Would they walk away...? These people are all make-believe, but the experiences are not, taken from articles and discussions and sometimes even revelations from real-life friends. These are not my stories, but they are someone’s truths, Not their weakness, Not their short-lived sadness that they can just “get over” if you try hard enough to make them happy. (My gosh do I need to remind myself of that part sometimes...) But that doesn’t mean you stop trying. Love them y’all. Love them so damn much that you’ll sometimes break through the cracks in their self-inflicted armor. Listen to them, Give them the chance to be open and honest, And if what they say makes you flinch, imagine what it must feel like for them. Do something kind that makes them smile and get ready to do it again tomorrow. Smile and laugh with them. Cry with them. Be genuine with your thoughts and feelings. Give them space, but check on them. Pull them out of the dark for just a moment, say, “I’m here for you when you need me. And I always will be.” Mental health issues are often invisible, but still feel debilitating to the one inside that head. Stay educated. Be understanding. Love the hell out of each other. ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜🖤🤍🤎💗
Innasense
2020-10-04 11:21 pm
I miss that girl who wore the moon on a chain, The one who found happiness in solitude and rain, Who wasn’t smothered by the endless need-to-dos, But instead made simple moments her muse. I miss the girl with the honest, unforced smile, The one who could always stay for awhile, Who took endless photos of sunsets and trees, And spent time, just being, under canopies of leaves. I miss the girl always seeking out the new, The one whose blue days were ephemeral and few, Who spent her Sundays, childlike, taking trips to playgrounds, Instead of as an adult, pushing expensive mops around. I miss the girl who wore pink bandanas and braids, Whose undercurrent in life wasn’t always “afraid”, Who wasted away hours in make-believe lands, And felt no guilt with book or controller in hand. And I miss car rides with no destination, Enjoying the lilting song of a clock for pure relaxation, Not feeling enslaved by my own procrastinations, Making last minute plans, happy deviations, I miss yesterdays that happened years ago And I miss the me that I used to know
Gord
2020-08-17 11:55 am
Chord dissonant, World lissome, and handsome, Magnificent. Is this it? Chortle ignorant, A turn with the guns, cannons, Munificence. Fishermen old, Where is yours? A thirst of knowledge, fyords and comments. Participant bored, Answers of nonsense, Can a parrot talk, conjugate or long? What color am I? It asks with a song, Replies loathsome, Bandied to a swan. Grey says the voices, Not what you are, But of your choices, Monsieur.
Gord
2020-08-10 01:28 pm
Devils hand, write of ginger, Stink of gin and linger. Age over, question a gain, Family name a gander. A snake is hissing, of the land, No matter how one pounds a fist, Shaking the sand, he stands in place. Devil, how are you so ginger, Limbless with skin akimbo, No kin to speak for, Yet no wizard can seal your fate?
Lynn
2020-08-04 11:53 pm
it’s no longer july not a cloud above the sky august breeze rips through the car window to tear at my hair the only choices i make are both feet on the gas and no hands on the wheel this is the only way i truly feel healed will these be my halcyon days? anhedonia thickens brain fog into an impenetrable haze even high beams won’t make a dent in this maize true ambivalence comes at the cost of change have any coins in your innermost pockets?
Lynn
2020-07-21 01:31 am
devouring the skin inside my lip. of course, everything in the human body is connected. of course. staining the porcelain with blood and iron, iron and blood and water, the permutations of rust. my voice becomes sticky, sickly sweet - the performance of wellness thickened even further by blood. my crazy, concentrated and caustic, drains through my nose and onto my chin and onto my shirt and onto my hands and down the drain. “i wish the blood inside my mouth were yours”.
Gord
2020-07-09 03:52 am
Tomorrow trailing, no erasers, Maybe no stress can reach relief, Papers, their lies and keys, Power is in just eyes to see; One hand hold, one hand to reach, Narrow is escape, is this fate, Or feeling? Do arrows fly away, misguided, Awry in their aerial affairs, Fore bearer blameless in errand; For barrels makeshift of nothing, What is the price of a country?
Gord
2020-06-20 08:44 am
Sloganeering memetic, Lowly speaker of rhetoric, Teach us a world hate filled. He speaks of the sieve: 'It seeks to strain and divide, It sees two ways and aligns, Hands in bonds, eyes blind, Invest your money wisely, As do Gods on Friday.' Lies.
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