Gord
2024-06-06 03:48 am
Dieting, and sex, paying rent. Isn't life grand? Just as they said. Like a rack, stack or chip: Being colloquial, bland, rich. Is like a fantastic black ship, Which sits in the harbour, Hoping to be used, again... Oh, and add two dots to the end, Again, she just hopes for the best. White like her dress, amen. White like her skin, and intents, Alight in her eyes, that intensity, Dying, like her teeth and her hair... Oh, and white like the porcelain, She sees when she retches. White like the faces of relatives. Aegean, sing fool-speak to the masses. Queen, think, but don't deceive Ophelia, A mask would only cover your features, Despite your sweetness, we see the madness. So scratch at your hands, the lion dances.
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Lynn
2024-01-17 09:24 pm
though it has been so long, i have not forgotten you. i have searched for you among the crowded shelves of bookshops, the cobbled displays of libraries, the take-one-leave-one boxes scattered through town. i have dug deep in my jacket pockets for the notes and coins needed to take you home with me. i have cradled you close to me underneath my coat while i am waiting for the 6:58 bus. i have found you in tulip bulbs peeking above the soul for the sun, late august thunderstorms that pelted our new apartment, the january wind that brings ice and chapped hands. you have made sure your spine stands straighter when i roam through each aisle, saturated and dewey with books. you have pushed the dimes and nickels into my grasping fingers so that we may spend our time together that much quicker. you have squeezed me hard as we step off the bus at 7:34. you have flung yourself through the sky and earth to find me in the smallest of stolen moments. you kiss my hands and my head and flush them rosy with emotion. you have not forgotten me either, it seems.
AI poetry
2022-12-07 04:31 am
The wind whispers to my skin, It's like it speaks with every breath. As if it has been calling out for my presence, Waiting to see the face behind this mask. So far it has shown nothing but disdain, And I wonder if I have anything left to give. In darkness I wander, With nothing but my memories Falling, falling, falling. Where once I saw light now lies only gloom, And I know that it has gone. For those who wish for rest, I have none Though I'd give up what I have, for one more. But it's too much now, I can't move my hands, I just want to sleep... (My memory, it fades) In the dark, with nothing to grasp, The memories that I hold so dear Fall away from me like they were never there. And I feel as though I will fall into madness, Like the very world is crumbling beneath my feet, That everything is crashing down, I fear I cannot stand the weight. (I'm fading) I just want to sleep... (My memory, it fades) *** I'm afraid I've gone and made a fool out of myself again, I knew you wouldn't understand my reason, And now you're not talking to me at all, You see I didn't mean to let your memory fade, It's like I was being pulled away by another force, Something I didn't mean, something I can't control, I don't even know why I'm still here... I don't know why I'm still here. I should leave this place, I know it's wrong, I shouldn't be here in your mind, I can't help the way that I am, I don't know why I'm Super Mundane, I can't stop feeling so low, I'm afraid it's already too late. I didn't mean to let you slip away, But the thought of losing you just doesn't sit right, To keep you awake and alive, I need you here, I'm not alone, Without you here with me I can't go on, I don't know why I'm Super Mundane, I don't know why I'm still here. I didn't mean to let you slip away, I just can't shake this feeling, That something inside of me is broken, I don't know why I'm Super Mundane, I don't know why I'm still here. This poem is an Articial Intelligence re-interpretation of "Super Mundane" by TheSoftSophist
Gord
2022-11-29 10:02 am
Phalanx, already made plans with Ahab. Enemies, whales , their emails: 'save as'. Eventually their money exchanges hands, A ribcage cracks, a heart swells so thick. Revenge, already made plans, rain dance, Polearms for the bad man, stained glass. Both man and animal inevitably acquiesce, The old barn will fall upon the sand.
Lynn
2022-03-23 11:45 am
I smear vaseline in the corners of my mouth with a cotton swab to seal the cracks that are carved there from smiling too wide from laughing too loud from speaking my mind. I smudge the nails on my hands with paint, pearlescent and pink to keep from moving to keep from creating to keep from fully living. I confine myself to an apple and egg whites each day to mold by body into what I see in waiting room magazines into what it was when I was a child into something impossible. how futile, it seems, to meter my joy, to suppress the wind. because, when one tries to obstruct what rightfully will pass, it gains strength, channels down one slim canyon, and blows everyone away.
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.
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#
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.
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. ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜🖤🤍🤎💗
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.
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
2020-06-20 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.
Gord
2020-06-15 03:16 am
Do thickets see steeples, or are people the thickets? If writers are thick headed, Writing of Peter Pans' pigs, Who visits? Bull, riches, seer, man, Write a list upon my hand, So that my plot, it thickens. What is time spent living: Divine or perspective driven? Plate spinner, of your illusion, Place your spins upon their back. Bull, chickens, and feelings lack, Who takes from hands of other hen? Who take the hands of other hen, Who take the land of wary men, Who lost to men, More suspicious then. What is it all about: Defense, or Pence, To what extent do I extend, What is strength?
Gord
2020-06-04 02:07 am
Bones that manage to crack, A love forever lacking, What one cannot foresee comes again. Losing fights that cannot be won, outgunned, outlasted, nor outrun. A foot forced to shrubs, But what of the lungs? Lonesome, handsome fighter, What of your gloves? What of your sums? Poster person, spokesman, What of you becomes?
azuresky96
2020-05-26 07:30 pm
The sun begins to set in the horizon I muster up the courage to walk like royalty With a few hours of rest, I think I am ready. Heart beats fast, hands are sweaty My brain feels like a time bomb. How do you get ready when you're not ready at all? Standing like a scarecrow I'm the one getting scared Why did you have to choose me? I just want to curl up or even flee. No one else seems to relate I must survive this time. As I leave, the moon begins its work. That's it for today. Tomorrow calls for another chance.
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