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 1° 
Arii
The pain
Of being around
You

Burns like a tire fire,
Hurts more than desire,
Tastes like
Brittle charcoal,
Stings
more than
Any promise you broke,

Burns
Li ke
A tire fire,

Hurts
More
Than desire,

Tastes
Like
Brittle charcoal,

Stings
Like
Every
promise I
Broke.

Being around you hurts more

Than being a

Joke.
 1° 
Nyx
I've been seeing more shooting stars lately
Lately as in the past three years
Maybe it's because I'm out here
At nighttime, slowing my car down on a country road
and turning off my lights
So I can see the sky better
Making sure there aren't any stars blazing in my rearview.
 1° 
The last Poet
Time is drifting

Love comes and goes

I'm sitting here with my windows closed

Staring out

Never figuring anything out

What should my life be about...
Don't let life pass you by
 1° 
LL
ᴵ one day, you came and
took all the plants that wilted
and made them blossom

ᴵᴵ you took all the plants
that I can't make flower and
made them bear good fruit

ᴵᴵᴵ when my kindness to
myself
wilted, you showed me
your garden of it ⚘
2025/110
You told me you missed me,
but that was a lie,
because the only thing you missed,
was the ability to play with my mind.
 1° 
Nat Lipstadt
You intrigue,
With your unsubtle unsettled intent to decieve,
Breadcrumb clues
Your gender;
(don't care)
Your age
(don't care, but oft
Insightful)
<>
Only two things do I require;
Any name you wish to provide,
(So intriguing, always a poem in & of itself),
And from where you hale/hail,
So my imaginings can fly to you
With full embrace
<>


Sunday
July 20th
2025
Still & Quiet
in the sunroom
S.I.
nat lipstadt
new york city/ shelter island
 1° 
Amy Herech
I knew something as kid
that now I have forgotten
Time tricks you into thinking
you are going forward
I was chasing being brilliant,
So they told me stupidity
was the prize of intelligence - I get that now
But I’m yet craving sagacity,
Then will I truly get it when I get the chance?
Because perhaps what I lost
is an ignorance that I’ll never recover
And I’ll never be as smart as when i was dumber
 1° 
w
hush—silence;

a regimented, simple production.
the clock makes sound, birds chirp, people are people all around— i see them, i am not of them, i let them pass through.

a car packed for a camping trip—the same trunk filled for the tenth time, most likely.

a certain focus—a gaze fixed somewhere in the distance between near sight and far,
a view undistorted, undistracted,
eyes conjuring hypnosis.
deadlines as games, percentages just a form of play, pressure nonexistent.
the order—a construction, all pretend, yet, more real than anything else.

momentum fuels momentum—
whole, and,

at peace for once,

mainly
blah blah the switch from intense work to total relaxation and then i write word salad trying to describe the feeling.
 1° 
xia
And the death of the star that was my love for you became the endless black hole that engulfed all my happiness.
a monostich.
 1° 
SleepEasy
There's no room for love
in times of war
I've been fighting a conflict
since the dawn of my life
I always wanted to love
To have a relationship
To get to know their family
and for them to know mine
but evil kept me single
I was never jovial
Carefree and happy
In fact, I was the opposite
careful and unhappy
and under attack
I don't love myself
and no one loves me back
So I don't believe in love
The kind between man and woman
I only know God's love
when I pray to heaven
Not to make me a winner
but to have mercy on me, a sinner
 1° 
Serhat Doğan
Sometimes
Simple things are
Complicated than
Complicated things
 1° 
Brianna Brooks
Look at me then,  
Look at me now,  
A lot has changed,  
I've matured somehow.  

Some things remain,  
Like my love for all,  
Look at me then,  
Look at me now.  

Once depressed, wanting to die,  
Crying each night, searching for why,  
Answers eluded, I wandered in dark,  
Except in God's light, where I found my spark.  

Now happy as a dog, florricking in fields,  
Joyful as can be, my heart freely yields.  
With a smile on my face, I invite you to see,  
You can't miss God's love that shines through me.  

Look at me then,  
Look at me now,  
Younger me would be so proud.
Changing is great when you realize your changing for the better
Cynical, the world is full of fools
Territorial, I beg your pardon, on my garden?
Wise, I'll take my own side in any fight
Sleepy, oh when needs must
Loyalty, served, but only to save my crust

Being a cat

JJB
When I see no way out,
I cling to my father.
When I believe I cannot see God,
I quiet my soul until I feel him.

-Rhia Clay
 1° 
Decembre
Sometimes I cope
By imagining you
To be perfect
And that if you were here
All would be fine

I’m not sure why
But I make myself
Believe
It will get dark soon.
The white, yellow, and pink
houses will turn grey,
then black. The cacophony
of car horns will turn into
the chorus of locusts.
Summer's night will lay
a sheet of tranquility over
a city harassed by exigent
matters that matter not.
Soporific silhouettes will
soften the cityscape,
allowing us to escape
the frazzle of the hot day,
exchanging the frenetic
for the peaceful, the welter
for a sense of the well-being.
The susurrus of the evening
breeze blows the exhaust
of our polluted lives into
a distant day. Children play
in yards back and front as
laughter wafts through
neighborhoods like the sweet
scent of brotherliness, not the
fetid odor of finance and
foreclosures. There is a
sense of closure to this day.
As the sun sets, our eyelids
close, and we pray for the
soft rain for forgiveness,

TOD HOWARD HAWKS
 1° 
AUSTIN FIELDS
your skin
has a seat in
that chair,
in every universe
you belong
The lights of the Aurora borealis shining bright and free resemble the shining lightAnd so strong brighter than the sun in the sky all day long We will not stop until we are equal on this earth and change this world for the better and we are worth the same as everyone else there's no need for fear we are the same as anyone else and will make it so no one will ever have to be afraid to be there self of you and me, Our inner lights can never be dimmed or tamed, We are who are and we shine loud and proud and no one can dim out light or silence are voice we fight the fight and will never stop until everything is set right, We are equal on this earth and being out true selves feels like a rebirth, we are united we are strong we will never stop until we right all the wrongs,our inner light shines so strong
I'll be dying soon.
Follow me in love.
You are made of love,
Follow me. We all are
made of love. Be one
with God. Become one
with God--no form, no
beginning, no end. God
is love, follow me in love.
Only enlightenment is all you'll know.
I'll be dying soon. We all will be
dying soon. Become one with
God. Become love infinitely.

TOD HOWARD HAWKS
 1° 
Nat Lipstadt
For so many reasons;
When the wow creativity
Of the young, new baby poets,

Bursts all over me,
Making me question
My egotistical perception,
Not a slap, but a belly laugh!
At the old fool, who once thought
Ever so secondary briefly, momentarily,
Unofficially, of his own esteemed self-worth,
Only to be reminded, deaf~dumb & blind~sided
By the fresh air, the aggravating sight of new insight
The delicious!delight  of reading the whole of all night
The explorations, the baby hallucinations, the trembling,
Insights of the explorers of the old, not re!newed, but, but.
Made anew, re~viewed with perspectives boldly unknown,
With crazy wisdom to expound, here, you! right here, right now,
I leave you and return to delight, taste, new extra languages, that
                                               I must
                                         learn not to speak
                                       but to peak, even to
                                     Cry, Laugh even Smile  
    
                              In all my new native tongues



Friday, July 18
5:39 AM,
2025
In the sunroom

Dictated in one fell swoop, not a moment to lose, dispatched while
Still laughing at myself...
 1° 
Peter Balkus
I am partying hard,
every day and every night
at the Festival of Poetry
- the festival of my life.

My bracelets are
flickering in the moon.
I am singing and kissing flowers,
they are making me bloom.

I am drinking the sweetest wines,
that have ever been made.
I am ecstatically dancing
with naked silhouettes.

I am partying hard,
every day and every night
at the Festival of Poetry
- the festival of my life.

Spilling the ink of joy
until my very last breath.
There won't be any hangovers,
any post mortem regrets.
 1° 
Lance Remir
I told others that your name

Is now a taboo; forbidden to be uttered

Because the mere mention of you

Hits me with everything we ever had

Hits me with everything we could have

Hits me to my core that I get stunned

By everything and anything of us 

So your name cannot be said by anyone

Unless it is whispered by me
 1° 
SE Reimer
a tribute

~

memories...
in fading sepia we find,
the romance of
another time;
albums filled
with black and white,
of glossy faces
burnt in fading light;
boxes of our ko-dak-chro-ments,
gone-by treasures,
once-upon-a-moments;
wistful years once crystal clear,
mem’ries drowned in haze,
resurface now,
renewed in tears,
...as we remember well.

memories...
the yellow ribbons tied,
’round an ol’ oak tree;
anxious waiting to make an “us”,
the anticipation of a “he and me”;
until the news from distant shore,
yet another casualty of war,
and now remains but this,
a marble slab inscribed,
in accolades of former glory,
merely remnants ’midst the pines;
on forest lawn where promises,
tween two for’er became untwined,
...as she remembers well.

memories...
so many are the ways
the mem’ry onward lives
even this, a,
“do this in...” request
restores a covenant anew
a "remembrance of..."
the “we” here left behind,
be it in the bread we break,
this forever to remind,
a sacrosanct entreaty made,
promise sealed as blood in wine,
reserving not for deities alone,
but given us immortal souls,
to us a gift at birth,
of staggering import,
responsibility of heavy worth;
of after-ashes keeping still,
an ever-after captured with
the shutter, brush and quill,
...so we remember well.

memories...
its keeping cherished lovingly
though its loss,
its diminishment bereaved;
as lovers silent grieve,
those lost to us yet breathe,
in memories ’midst the breeze.
forgetful of the slightest
until one day in finality
their mortal soul is set free
into immortality.
...to for’er remember.

memories...
to us, a call, a charge,
a “ne’er forget”
a duty large
a “do this in
remembrance of”
this our promise
to e’er remember,
always keep;
forgetting never,
to carry the flame,
while we yet live
in sunshine’s grip;
an oath is sworn,
that forever we,
shall always ready be,
for in remembering best,
the tears flow easily,
and so it isn't pity,
of a loss i seek,
no,
for ’tis in finding memory
that i shall always weep,
...as i remember well.

~

post script.

of love lost in the haze of war; of lives changing motion, a baby is born, as a grandmother moves into memory care... a cycle of life, brought full circle best in remembrance.  and this makes remembering perhaps the most important facet that defines, sets us apart as humans, best captured in this thought, "in forgetting the past we cease to be and bring hope forward for the future. and so we remember... for we must never forget!” and so we line our shelves, our walls with them, visiting inscribed stones behind fences.  

dedicated today to our memories each of loved ones, lovers lost; but on this dark eve, especially those who lost those souls, three thousand strong, a darkest day of remembrance, this September the eleventh, who never got to say goodbye... so we remember well!
 1° 
emgwrites
I want you to open me carefully,
like a new book.
In half.

Slowly dragging your fingers across my center.

Before
you start reading.
Emgwrites
 1° 
daisy
it was our very first meeting
but i already imagined,
how we’ll be cuddling
in years we won’t be counting
for himaru (suki na hito)
 1° 
Nat Lipstadt
You Are the Texture

…………………………

~ for all of you,
you, you poet~



Impasto

is a technique used in painting,
where paint is laid on an area of
the surface thickly, usually thick
enough that the brush or  painting-
knife strokes are visible.

Paint can also be mixed right on
to the canvas. When dry, impasto
provides texture; the paint appears
as if, to be coming out of the canvas.


<1:47pm>

Cut & Paste

is a technique used in poetry writing,
we refer back to our visions,
heard words,
the eyeful, the earful, scents,
the reads read,
all in the mind’s palette blended,
thickly, but
when

the merging fused,
every word~in~coloration,
it is unique, reincarnation,
copying impossible.

The imagery, cut and pasted from thy heart and soul,
upon canvas,
your poems~pieces each appear

as you-are-texture,
you becoming out of, you,
the canvas.

<2:04pm>


Postscript*
………………

it is not lost on me that the
scars, our words, herein,
as we note all too frequently,
almost casually,
are, can be, those selfsame
words/painting-knife
employed
for our first and foremost canvas we utilize,

ourselves…
our bodies,
our
very selves
salved
Fri Jun 23
2023
 1° 
alia
Step 1: Smile.
Step 2: Forget why.
Step 3: Keep your voice steady
when your soul is not.
Step 4: Pretend it’s fine.
(Everyone else is.)

Step 5: Fold your feelings
into paper birds.
Set them loose.
Watch them burn mid-air.
Clap softly.
Repeat.

There is no final step.
You just keep going
until you don’t know
what breaking feels like anymore.
 1° 
Jessica B
And that’s who we are…
People.
Just….people

Time becomes our making.
Beautiful…..
&
Complex…
It came with me.

But What if I’m crazy?
What if the soul could lie.
And the roses never die.

🌹

It’s lonely….
To be different….

I know that…

Have Faith, they say…
I did see a rose that day.
theres a cat next door he comes to visit me
same time every day when its time for tea
i think he smells the food that im about to cook
he sits on my sill takes a little look

i fill  a litte bowl fill it with some meat
then he claws the window asking for his treat
he his very clever a lovely chap his he
my little furry friend that lives next door to me
 1° 
Boma
My mom chose someone's mom's burial over her own daughter's graduation

Hits hard
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