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 998° 
irinia
the redness of my mouth tells
the truth without me
take a leap into breath
disentangle the days
suffering can wait
can wash away,
can carry her weight
somewhere else,
can push boundaries
like you pull a chewing gum

take a leap into the future
what is future
I don't understand it
shouts my current blood
this mind is expanding
well, yes not at the speed
of the universe colliding
but but but
thought has antigravitational
engines, you just feed it
feed yourself
with knowledge

take a leap into your voice
don't tremble
let it out
let the sun come out of
your mouth
be brave
like the spin of particles
they don't know the right way before
before the collapse
into something bigger, wiser

take a leap into this or that
into the unknown
it's gonna be fine
you can shook yourself of tears, of dust
you can be a smile
written today in a madenning crowd at a poetry workshop with
IN-Q at Unfinished festival, Bucharest
The theme of this edition was Leap
 683° 
Elena M
I won't promise you
The moon un the sky
But i will give you
My heart.
 537° 
K J McCarthy
It was never religion itself that turned me off, it was always the followers, the believers of them. All I ever saw was ego, hypocrisy, and entitlement. Just a bunch of narcissistic, arrogant, and insufferable humans who are steadfast for that which they cannot prove. So absolute and stubborn in their convictions, infected by baseless claims. Ignorantly tumultuous speech smothered by hypotheticals, and dressed with incredible certainty. The similarities are uncanny aswell, they're all so similar more so than they are different. Most belief systems share a similar format. They think theirs is the all mighty one, they have some sort of enlightened deity and the others are false, and in extreme cases are willing to die and **** just for the sake of being right. Religion always appeared to me as demanding unconditional devotion without giving much of a reason. Exploiting peoples fears, in order to silence questioning, the most devout are the willfully blind. Eternal damnation, hell, and suffering are consequences they promote to scare lost souls into falling in line. I'm not saying there arent some positives in religion, but the high horse and holier than thou attitudes cultivate everything but a foundation of true spirituality. Religion often makes enemies, creates disunion, and gives people another reason to look down on their fellow man. Those who pray differently are looked at with disgust. Instead of trying to understand one another, or recognizing the things we see as important the vast majority of people also hold these things in high regard. We are all just trying to provide for the people we love. We love our families, our kids, our wives. We get up in the morning and put our pants on the same way to go to work. We may have different colored eyes, hair, or skin, but we all share a heart, a voice, and a breath. We share more in common than we think, but jump to conclusions because we misunderstand the little things. Something as simple as a foreign language can instill discomfort, thinking less of others because WE do not understand, thinking people of seperate cultures are less intelligent than us when its US who dont understand THEM. Making judgments instead of looking at our own lack of education. Its easier to finger point, than it is to research. Its easy to draw uninformed conclusions, than it is to engulf and throw ourselves into another mans world where we are unfamiliar. People dont like to leave their bubble, their comfort zone, and so the mind goes unchallenged. Whether its on purpose, or on accident, complacency harms only ourselves. Being stuck in our own distant worlds does nothing good for anybody. If we could just be human for a moment, look past what we mistaken for difference, and stop feeding the cycle of hate. We might realize that at our species core we share the same desires, the same goals, the things we hold dearest are not exclusive to us. If we could stop competing for a moment, maybe we could realize that on this microscopic planet, we really are all we got. We know no life like we know here on Earth. We are wasting time, and opportunity bickering over trivial *******. We would rather commit suicide as a collective, than try something else, try something different. Thinking larger beyond ourselves, seeing others as you do yourself, seeing that we are all a family here. The work starts within, we need to stop settling for Religion, for Political Parties, for a distraction to occupy the energy we should be using to hold ourselves accountable. We need to stop letting external forces tell us how to think, tell us who to hate, and what should bring us shame. Until we look within, and get completely honest with the worst parts of ourselves, thats all we will ever see in others.
 451° 
Nat Lipstadt
except that you have
attached your parfumed,
par~col~odored exhalations
into our shared airs,
with uniqued fumes,

   thy airy
essences
to thine own chosen words,
in combines never before
seen or heard,
but worn by you,
draped from chains abound your neck,
dripping from thy tongue,
dropping from thine eyes,
leaking from your pores,
from fingers in rose gold
adorning rings bright shining

so more, so unique,
impossible to misidentify
as anything anybody any anything,
but
yours, yours…yours,
     but not belabor this
fact basic,

disguise your name,
hide your fame,
make your locale,
somewhere in the unreachable,
unreal,
multiverse,
none the less,
and allthemore,
cannot escape,
the ultimate reality,
when first you press that
keyed
SEND,
you have parted, done with,
an immeasurable
small but grandeured piece of
your unique self,

if that makes you anxious,
here my eyes crinkle sympathetically,
am please to blurt
this major alert:

u have nothing to fear,
too late, too late,
you are now made,
part and particle,
past participle
futured history in
the particulared,
longest continuum
on this tiny, tiny
planet

oh well,
just thought you'd
like to know,
despite your guises,
your are now
100 per cent,
immutable ^



10/5/25 staying alive
^ immutable.
What does it mean to be immutable?
adjective.
Something that is immutable will never change or cannot be changed. [formal] ...the eternal and immutable principles of right and wrong and being unique
 419° 
hazem al jaber
Only for you...

For you only…
I write this text as prayers written secretly...
as the wind whispers into the ear of the sea...
and leaves it restless with longing....

For you only...
I hide myself between the lines...
I become a breath in your chest...
or a vision that touches the edges of your soul...
before the words awaken...
and reveal this yearning....

For you only...
and just because of you...
I'm writing now...
For you...
Because I "loved you"...
I stripped away all the masks from myself...
And left my heart bare...
In your hands...
Only for you...

hazem al ...
 371° 
Jamal Upshaw
oh
lord
when
i
have
nothing left
he
shall
comfort
me
through
the
valley of death
and
i
shall
walk
with
him
into
the
kingdom of heaven
 355° 
Kiki Dresden
Just a quiet woman polished bright by nerves,
I once felt wild for dipping my hair in purple.
Noticing, my hairdresser asked if I had anyone special.

I dated a man with a good job
who liked museums.
We saw a drunk girl in a leather skirt-
heels hobbling down cobblestone,
her bird-arm linked through a friend’s.
He rolled his eyes:  
would you go out wearing skirts like that?
On the dating app I’d written:
loves dogs, drinks champagne from paper cups.

It wasn’t a lie, but I am such a liar.
I told him yes,
because I needed his reaction,
his self-corrected mind,
though I’ve never worn one.
I say I’m fine with whatever,
or this is stupid,
but truthfully
I’m afraid I’m only a very nice lady,
soft in the hands of whoever will take me.

I carry anger like a weak religion-
a god I light candles for twice a year,
more symbol than practice.
I’ve heard of burying St. Joseph upside down
to sell a house. But there’s no charm,
no saint, for loosening the knots I keep tied.

I want to keep the bright mess of my dog heart,
mud-spattered, mulch-snuffling,
faithful to its own scent,
while crows, squirrels, and the occasional fox
paw through the dirt
for what they almost forgot.
 340° 
Dr Peter Lim
Contempt hurts more
than revenge
deeper does it cut
it doesn't relent

revenge is one-off
in the main
but humiliation
will for a lifetime remain!
 307° 
Worlds of Within
A.I. can copy
styles,
techniques, trends.
It can pump out infinite images and playlists
But it can’t fake
lived experience turned into art.
It can’t fake
the scars,
the humor,
the obsessions,
the contradictions.
It can mimic  sure
but it can’t embody.
it's a tool I know  I get it.
 264° 
Meli
Seeing you gives me butterflies
Most of the time I can't sleep through the night
All that time I think of you
I just don't know if my love for you is true
 250° 
doma
maps burned in your drawer
you’re lost in the moment
you're wearing clothes you'd never had worn what for

your name's just a sound
yet it's prominence scares me still
your eyes forget what they used to adore
what for
 216° 
Bus Poet Stop
dedicated to all the better poets here...*


don't know much about a quatrain
don't know how to write a refrain,
surely could not compose a
courtyard elegy
maybe after
and still untilled,
I been buried,
'n checked out
the neighborhood competition...

as for limerick,
that is Dr. Seuss
and Ogden Nash's shtick
with whom, eye,
a believed descendant,
cannot compete...

Oh dear me,  
no ode node-ed within,
as for a pastoral,
kinda hard to feat,
where I live,
a pastoral is grass cracks
surviving under,
breaking through to the other side
of concrete and blacktop rulers

Maybe one of you
will haiku,
send us a senryu,
send off, see ya!

the doc once diagnosed
a severe case of inflamed iambic pentametery,
with antibiotics and a diet of Hamletery,
was cured most satisfactorily

this silly pen-man-sinking-ship
ain't capable of dat,
boy how 'bout
an epitaph
for a graveyard stone,
should be plenty of room...
as it will be plenty short...

all eye see and all eye know
is vignettes that birth in me
walking down the street,
that's my bread and butter,
my soul's delicacies...
and moments that recorded
here, for a posteriored posterity,
as noted in my all my living
testaments,
drinking and spilling the vin,
from the uninvented igniting vignettes
that consecrate and connect our
knowing each other though odds are
we will never meet...we can yet
drink together
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Don't know much about the French I took.
But I do know that I love you,
And I know that if you love me, too,
What a wonderful world this would be."
eyes eye eye ** ** ** ha ha ha
 214° 
Aphrodite
I need to know
If you are still here
Loving me with your eyes of wonder
Or your critical plunder?
I need to know if you care
With me here and you there
And I cant make sense of us
I can't see our future fully aware
Believe me when I say
I wanted you to stay
Stay with me
But not at the cost of the price
The price of my heart so high
You know what will happen
If you trade it in for gold
Our love grows cold
It will fail, so I am told
I dont have much longer
 199° 
Kiki Dresden
Burning fuel but not to leave,
boys circled town, came back
to the station where they began.

Gas exhaust drifted like spirits
above asphalt, dissolving in the night.

Girls stayed in the lot,
waiting for men old enough
to buy liquor, their names
claiming the land-
long after other names lay
buried in the ground.

They kept to the faces,
legs folded on hoods,
lip gloss catching the station lights,
bracelets chiming, hair flips rehearsed,
laughing at trucks circling back.
They wanted to be chosen, and I tried
to want that too- tried to be a girl among girls,
waiting for the moment some hand
would tug me out of the circle.

But my eyes kept straying-
across the street,
to the rise that was not just dirt
but a chest under earth,
ribs shifting,
a hum curling into my throat.
Something skeletal in its patience,
as if Baykok himself
were sharpening arrows in the dark,
waiting for breath to break.
Built long before us by Ojibwe,
still honored as sacred ground.

The others smoked, struck sparks,
sequins spilling from careless wrists,
never thinking how easily flame
might travel down, through us,
into what we couldn’t see.
I could hear bones shifting,
a buried drumbeat, the land’s own warning.

Every glance of the mound
pulled me back into silence.
It told me what the others
didn’t want to know-
that all this circling, waiting,
was only the lid of a grave.
 192° 
RaĂŻssa
...
“we have to get hurt at some point,” That’s the human tax for feeling deeply
 189° 
nightwanderer
i'll never be real
a mind
-lost in thought
trailing off...
...before the last word
 189° 
Sam
What had once been chanced upon, 

a heavenly gift of supernatural bands 

and poems without parades, 

is now a tomb we cart about

full of rotting clichés

and blows to the head

like a relentless mistake 

that just won’t die.


So we go over the stones 

beside the sea—
black, no matter 
the time of day or season—

past the church, 

the hideous church, 

which reminds me 

that every religion gets dressed before the dawn.
 186° 
Nat Lipstadt
"sly wordplay, it glows, feels like a shimmering address, half warning and half blessing, really alive with cadence"
read Kiki Dresden poetry^

once more into the sea trench divide,
I dive to devise,
Your provoking comment,
demands my full attention,
you divert me from struggling with
ginger & clay,
a contra concept
that molds and enflames,
yet strikes overtly sweet,
it does not
come so easy
as this playful notion

But
your words deserve the
attention immĂŠdiate
atenção imediata
that births this script,
tumbling forth in an instantly
instantaneously

me student, you mistress~master,
schooling me on sublimity subliminal,
capturing the capering
stylistic that bursts forth from within,
that my fingertips provide,
while my brain connives & connivers
continuously

you overlay analytics
that never are to me
revealed,
the what and wherefore
of the whom
hiding within

of the im~perpetuity impish essence of
i m p ishness
by charmingly doing me, not once,
but many times better


here a spillage:
an observational ditty,
dressed in a tux,
most formally,
to render the greatest
wordplay
ever invented

t,

the uniqueness of a simple
thank you
my favorite poem
a forever for ever,
the song that
plys and plays me
in the me
so often,
the linguists have banned the word

repeatedly

so in its stead,
this all-in-one mighty steed
(verb phrase, a noun, or an adjective depending on its usage)
this phatic expression,

muito obrigado!
muito obrigado!
muito obrigado!





                                                  ­Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â nml 5:39am nyc 10/4, 10/4
^
https://hellopoetry.com/Dresden/

"sly wordplay, it glows, feels like a shimmering address, half warning and half blessing, really alive with cadence'
re rhe poem
'Immutable"
 186° 
Farah Taskin
an ocean-blue aquarium
and a blissful fish swims aimlessly

I daydream about being a joyful fish
this is my last refuge
thus, I escape from reality
🐟
I've learned not to trust good days.
Because bad days always tag along

And I've learned the same rules apply to
Good moments

With a high
There comes a low
Every. Time.
 150° 
Geof Spavins
Rain fell. Earth answered.
Now puddles preach in silver tongues,
mirroring sky, baptizing boots,
inviting splash and childlike praise.


Dip your toe.
You are part of the sermon.
 144° 
Qualyxian Quest
Lonely as I age
Absurd. Yes, Absurd.
Try to do my best
Looking for a word

Take my son to work
Shopping for a car
Extrasolar water
Exoplanet star

                 Ole!
 134° 
Nat Lipstadt
plodding person waddles to the kitchen,
just like a Pavlovian dog morn salivating,
the first of
little rituals
that holds his disparate pieces together,

her alarm thrice weekly wakes the man,
reminding him of all the things she does,
to keep herself, healthy and attractive,
of course poet sinner has, as his wont,
has been up prematurely in response
two little wordly words flew into his head,
from parts unknown, that
"little rituals"
would make a finery of a poem title,

and to ensure the timely delivery of her
'chips and dips,' a poetic liberty he provides,
for her wake~up compote of black strong
carribean brewed beans, French prune,
kashi-go-lean, and the remote controller,

ok, ok get to the poem already, his nanny
nags, don't keep all these good people
who for it, are awaiting, <nml>

this stuff of life, this glue, tiniest of motions,
that leeches into our daily make-up emotions,
not just our awakening, but throughout the
every minute of
days of the entirety of our lives,
starting at
our earliest consciousness, long before we
understand and can spell this miracle of
c o n s c i o   us   n e s s


laying out our utensils, wallet+watch,
spectacles etc., morning a-priori, kissing
the kid's to sleep in their own specialized
particular good night manner,  stepping
on certain cracks on the way to work,
just to say fu to those who threaten us
with ****** bad luck, and being annoyed,
that someone has parked in your fav spot


spots, yes these spots that are the building
blocks of our

little rituals
that build us up in the largest of ways,
of an elegant web of survival methodologies


that stitch the woof and warp of the length
of our lives into a a complex tapestry that
hangs in the living rooms in our own museum,
a surface to hang upon, attach, the kid's photos,
the first school drawings, the flower froze in time,
from the occasions of our history, where all who
pass by just for a second pause, review, and utter
a satisfying eyed glance, to be agreed upon these,
these are the things that matter


and though not consulted,
deeply grateful to
the muse(s) who inserted this
complex simplicity notional of

little rituals into my soul for me to maintain
one more of these delights, otherwise known as,

the first poem of the day

and so the living of our ritualized lifes begins once more…


9:06am
Oct 3/twenty five
^ First Poem of the Day
 117° 
Curls
I want to rewrite my life in a poetic font,
it would smell like my favorite coffee,
feel like a little midnight dance,
it would be quiet and peaceful,
with no hate in the world.

the world where my lungs wouldn't suffocate,
where my wings would fly a little high,
where I could finally say the words untold,
where my heart wouldn't feel like the land of heath,
and express the thoughts which lies beneath.
 114° 
Emirhan Nakaş
Last month I attended my first funeral,
Made me felt like I hit my face to a stone hurdle.
This summer I noticed my first white hair,
I admired it like it was a flair.

The spark in your iris, I asked if it's green,
Turns out it was rakishly dyed hazel.
Sweat droplets on your kissable skin,
The leaking sweet breeze of april...

I admired it like it was a flair, your eyes, hazel...
Drowned by cold reality, my first funeral...
 110° 
selma
Silver hoop earrings,
curled hair,
gloss that catches light.
A sight for sore eyes.
Too bad,
I only want myself.
 80° 
cmp
Take heed though sycophant society evil in labor good at work brews more than all talk no voice
Lore rest
 79° 
Addison
how does one month feel so cursed
I feel free
the month of September is over
it feels as if a war has ended
we have finally escaped from September's grasp
 78° 
Sarah M Weier
Your seared handprint on my heart still flickers to ember now and then. Tell my brain to stop fanning the flames.
For my ex fiancĂŠ
 78° 
Shaun Copple
Detached from the old
once more, into the fold.
Embrace the Self—Human
Being—Where “I” is a Man.
Sporadic emotions burst
forth, with sensation and thirst.
In the cold light of day,
realise—This is all just play!
Themes from Vipassana
 74° 
Nolan Bucsis
I can't chain smoke
Fast enough
To occupy my mind.

No more silence,
No more still,
I want to be perpetually
Doing
Nothing.
the world doth observe
this leader's brilliant prowess
in its eye sight's view
he'll be well remembered
for his leadership's greatness
 68° 
Jeremy Betts
I haven't written in awhile
Might have something to do with life being more intense than an art style
I have tried denial
That just happens to be the biggest category in the file

One foot in front of the other
Leads to creativity smothered out by is biological mother
Finding what you want to do in the gutter
Swirling down the drain with no sail and missing the rutter

Š2025
 65° 
Echoink
You say fairies are gorgeous—
I say you’re the prettiest.

You say fairies are kind, caring, loving—
I say you’re even more unassuming.

You say fairies don’t exist—
But I say: you do.

S.Tara.R
Sometimes You just need to look in reality carefully trust me you will find it more beautiful than your imagination
 62° 
Ava ONeal
Dreams never come true,
Wishful thinking; never blue,
Dream in the day, dream in the night,
Unless its a nightmare, you're never in plight.
Dream of strength, dream of might;
Dream of winning a world-famous fight,
Dream of the future, reflect on your past;
Dream 'til you breath your heart-broken last.
 62° 
Messier Plath
My heart betrayed me the moment our eyes met
He was standing on the altar with her
And my eyes started to melt

I noticed a strange look on his face
He looked worried when he looked at me
yet he kissed her and left me there
This is Scene 14 of The Altar I Was Denied, a short story in form of poetry.
 61° 
Bree
FOG
Plain Jane
was full of grace
face of mild will
displaced
Dear Jane
the child
abandoned
the enlightened me
to the perverse
Sweet Jane
the legend
the fiend
attracted to attraction
to be woefully
     willfully
     deceived
Complacent Jane
do thy bidding
to pure Jane
     of joy
     begetting.
 58° 
Traveler
According to
the science of the “unknown”,
random samples of emptiness
can only scratch the surface of nothingness..
Depleting the distortions of invisibility
while examining the possibility of
the non-existent state..
Leaving only what appears to be
worthless ashes of eternal entropy!
...
And in another related stories...
Traveler Tim
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