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 Oct 2017 B Chapman
rhiannon
here’s the damnedest thing about “hopeless romantics”:

they’ll splinter their own bones into kindling
to build the fire that warms you,
as if putting a match to their insides
might cauterize the wounds
left behind by the greedy lovers and too-rough hands
that set their hearts to bleeding in the first place

you see, the poets spared no pains when they dubbed
the especially romantic “the hopeless

they are hopelessly betrothed to the warfare,
the burning insanity
of a soul madly in love with love—
the way the heart rages against the brain.
 Oct 2017 B Chapman
Tyler
Torn
 Oct 2017 B Chapman
Tyler
Lying next to you is like heaven on earth.
Surely you dont realize what exsactly you do to me.
My heart is in ruin.
How the **** can I let you go.
I cant find sleep.
I'm watching you sleep.
And your talking in your sleep.
These little moments with you I will always cherish.
Why did you give yourself to me, if you were just going to leave.
I understand you need to find yourself.
Let yourself heal from a wicked past.
A past that haunts you so badly.
Theres no room left for me.

I need to be a man about this.
I need to let you go.
But darling I cant seem to know how.
Before sunrise you'll be gone.
Out of my life.
I love you C.
Always have always will.
Please come back.
Please be my wife.
Heartbreak is something very new to me.
 Oct 2017 B Chapman
DJ
Look at her.
See her little cracks?
The ones that line her arms,
The ones on her back.
Her porcelain face,
With the saddest of eyes,
Where the missing pieces are,
She fills them as she cries.
The tears that fall,
She catches in a pail,
Putting them in her cracks,
Thinking she's failed.
One day a little porcelain boy found her,
Crying all alone,
Without any shelter,
So he picks up his phone,
And then he shatters himself.
As the pieces fall she crawls over to him,
He picks up his pieces and finds the ones to fill her cracks,
He aligns them all,
Each one filling her back.
But after he's finished,
She leaves him there,
With every little crack,
His body so bare.
He sits there alone,
Thinking about that little porcelain girl,
The one who he cared for,
The one who made his heart twirl.
One day she passes him,
In the same spot as where he healed her,
She gives him a small smile,
And then deters.
The little boy cries there,
All alone and silent,
Now knowing about,
How love can be so violent.
 Oct 2017 B Chapman
mk
call me when you miss me -

you said

- call me when you miss me -

tell me
how do i tell you
that i do not miss you
i do not need you
i am happier without you

but

the comfort and the
heart of someone who
loves you
really was gold
and i miss the way
i had someone to hold
and the sound of your laugh
(the real laugh, not
the fake one you did
in public)

is sweeter than the
sound of my favorite song
and my favorite song
is always going to be
the one that sounds too good
to be true
because the last time i listened to
it
i was with you

so tell me
how do i tell you
that there's just
this longing for having
someone
who
loves you?
and it's selfish and cruel
but it would
be really nice to just
say hello
and hear the familiarity
in your voice
when everything here
is so **** foreign
and i can't speak the
language of love to them
or the language
of home.

winter break of 2016 was
the best time of my entire life
and the 9th of june
is still a wonderland in my mind
and the rest of the days
are like shattered glass and
broken minds but
it's okay sometimes because
right now
as sick as i am
as broken
as torn
it would just be nice
to say hello

- call me when you miss me -

you said

- call me when you miss me -

i don't know what that's supposed to mean
i don't know if "missing you" entails
romance part II
or starting something new
but between me and you
that's just not something i want to do
would it be too good to be true
to have someone
who didn't always feel so new
i want something old and torn
something frayed and worn
something made of the same
skin that is mine
something that
doesn't make me lose my mind
something
a lot
like
home.

- call me when you miss me -

you said

- call me when you miss me -
my body gave up faster than my heart did
 Oct 2017 B Chapman
ogdiddynash
10:06pm and they're coming at me again
a chorus demanding a chanson,
holding my brain for ransom,
the twenty six against the world's every languages' dictionary,
cacophony of a single voice demanding
provide pleasure of the interior mind's designery
obey obey the elemental electric eleventh finery
commandment
and
write anything that honors the poet's day
write something about remanding
*the world back to where we all belong
bex challenging me one mo' time

World Poetry Day is a time to appreciate and support poets and poetry around the world. It is held on March 21 each year and is an initiative of the United Nations Educational, Scientific, and Cultural Organization (UNESCO).
Never fall in love with a poet
for their words are sometimes lies
on occasions they're a shield
on occasions a disguise

They will take you on a journey
upon which they bare their soul
in a bid to ease your burdens
in a bid to make you whole

But in every word they choose
for the stories that they tell
lies a little piece of heaven
and a little piece of hell

Tormented souls we poets are
sometimes quite broken and despaired
in search of lost expressions
missed by others who once cared

Never fall in love with a poet
unless you're prepared to share their pain
to hold them close on the darkest nights
over and again
Follow me on Twitter @athomashawkins
http://twitter.com/athomashawkins
 Oct 2017 B Chapman
harlee kae
I am
 Oct 2017 B Chapman
harlee kae
I am a fool
for dreaming big dreams
that I can't accomplish.
I am a failure
as my knees give out
and my mind gives up
and I quit.
 Oct 2017 B Chapman
Anna Blake
it's you.

i would have never known
unless i saw
the light meet your face
that morning.

neither of us are early risers,
but i couldn't waste
a second.

above me,
at 6:40 in the morning,
a perfect blend of
blue, gray, and sincerity,
which was born
on the rising sun,
peered through an ivory curtain,
and landed on a gentle face.

infinity soaked gaze,
honey coated touch,

your color was
the crisp mountain air
through a rolled down
Jeep window.

your color was
a John Prine record
and local barbeque

your color was serene.
it was the light's reflection of
a summer enveloped
by two people
in love with
right now.

-Anna Blake
 Oct 2017 B Chapman
Atlantis
I will re

a
      r
          r
             a
        n
    g
e

the  s  t  a  r  s

to spell out your

n    a     m    e


So the universe is aware

that you are

m    i     n    e
 Oct 2017 B Chapman
victoria
My father
Sick of motor neurones
And holes in the aorta
Has made a decision
Full of heartache and pain
I support
I understand
But the darkness has returned

He has started the journey
The process has begun
I will be by his side
I will hold his hand
I will fight back my tears
My aching heart will stay hidden
But the darkness will come too

I must be brave
For him I must stay strong
He will be frightened
He won't know what will happen
After he has left his body
Does he still believe in God
I'm not sure
I should ask him
I wonder if darkness has got him too.
I guess a lot of poetry will come from me during this heartbreaking time that lies ahead....
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