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Soul 1d
I don't like him,
he's too innocent,
no, he's not handsome at all-
look at his face!
Yikes!
But tell him,
to meet me at
the park
today,
right now...
Yeah, the world rotates the same direction every day, this, is what always happen, even we neglect...
(But rare true love is different, this is just young romance)
of the human race ? we mistake our place and
perhaps that's the throttle of our mystery

for what it's worth i am of this earth and the
earth itself has a birth in me
taken from Prompt 1
eliana Jul 29
We may have the same eye's
but I use mine differently

We may have the same heart
but I use mine differently

I'm Different cause I do things differently
I'm different cause I wear things differently

I may stand out differently in many ways
but I love it
and I love being different

I Am Different
People are faced with the fact that they are different and other people don't realize that it's a great thing. So in this poem I'm saying that people should be happy that they are different and they should use the different things in the way that makes them happy.
the digital footprint
a modern record.
how we keep score,
as we move forward.

hieroglyphics,
poetry and sonnets,
philosophical teachings,
those things so far from us,

yes, they’re quite the same.

only now this time,
it’s constantly flowing
through a digital frame,
in a different way.

the humour
the laughter
the delight and wonder
the experience of human nature
we truly never change

we’ve kept score
it’s all the same

our existence in the world,
being noted,
being recognised,
to show we’re here;
we existed.

we experience.
we observe.
we reflect.
we create.
we document.
we remember.

like those moments,
like those eras,
like those people,
from before.

we learn about them,
day in, day out.
we learn from a distance,
removed from those times.

yet, living a life
near identical.

just in a
different
shape.

at a different
time.

we are the parallel,
we are the reflection,
we are the consequence,
we are the continuation,
we are the mirror,
to those who came before us.
they are part of us.
they may even be us.

so, we do what they do.
we do what they dreamed.

the impossible
from their eyes.

…now so mundane to our eyes.


a new frontier
a new facet of life.

the digital footprint
a new proof of life.
Mustafa Jul 22
I look at the tree standing tall
It's just standing there in rain and shine, and wind
It doesn't move,  it doesn't talk, not a sound
Sometimes I wonder, what is going on inside of it

The tree is there to serve us, asking for nothing
No rent is charged to the birds that make it their home
No sitting charge, no waiting charge, no matter
For how long you stay on its branch or under its shade

Apart from that, the tree is giving us flowers and fruits
It produces them for the birds and animals to consume
It consumes none of its output, only gives it away  
To come and take as much as you can FOC

I sometimes wonder, is this tree for real
How can you give, give, give and only ask
That you leave it alone to do its work
It's work of serving you wholly and totally

I salute you, O Tree, and I salute your creator
For all that you do, for all that you do
For the birds, animals, humans, and even insects
Thank you, O Tree. Thank you, O Tree
This poem is an ode to the trees on our planet. Trees give us so much, yet humans have no appreciation and mercilessly chop them down. The result?Global warming and the gradual destruction of the human race
I have seen a lot in this life,
The only thing I haven't seen is that which doesn't exist,
I have seen a lot in this life,
That which my mouth cannot explain.

Tell us what you saw Mr. Stephen,
What is it you saw that Troubles you,
Did you see the rainbow or seven colours of madness,
Tell us Mr. Ekemezie what exactly you saw?

I saw people I saw inhumanity,
I saw heartlessness in-love with wickedness,
I saw bitterness wedding greediness,
Callousness came to the wedding wearing injustice.

I saw evil ruling the universe,
Anger, dishonesty and falsehood are there with her,
I saw a sick earth where everything goes,
A world full of oppression and strife,
No humanity at all which keeps me speechlessly mouthless.
The poem is about inhumanity
neth jones Jul 12
no damning good
cramming the skies      with medals and detail
best of our history    we began a weak century
17/06/25 & 21/06/25
1st line borrowed from altered graffiti that said 'NO **** GOOD'
but had been altered to say 'NO DAMNing GOOD'
Aadya Jul 1
Are humans a miracle or a curse?
well, even stars are just scars of the universe.
I’ve seen too much, held behind these eye lids.
I've learned that the dark is no place I can rest.
It shows me everything that hides in its corners.
With Every stubborn pulse beating in my Worn-out chest.

With Every stubborn pulse beating in my Worn-out chest.
I flinch at kindness like it's gonna turn around and bite.
Because most smiles that I've seen were a mask that betrayed.
I keep my room much brighter when its night—

My body is here, I think. Maybe in part.
But the rest is somewhere else I left. unclaimed.
I built shrines of silence inside my own heart,
Where I hid my crying echo, and gave it, its own name.

When someone asks me why I never go to sleep,
A version of me steps in front of me to lie.
Cause sleep is a place that's just way too deep,
For someone who truly feels like they have already died.


Someone is always moving underneath my pale skin—
I'm nothing but an actor mouthing someone's borrowed truth.
I close up and I break as the thoughts are swarming in.
And I choke on even the quietest taste of their proof.

I stay wide awake thinking pain is gonna pass.
But it doesn't. It stays here and lives in my bed.
My comfort is a broken window of shattered glass—
But it never makes me try to fix my ever-shattered head.

I taught myself how to speak from underneath pauses,
And how not to feel, with my own blood and meds.
You say that love exists? Then show me where the clause is,
Saying “nothing that will live will be punished when it's dead.”

I almost opened up my heart once. And it burned.
Not with fire, just with that light I knew I shouldn’t touch.
You say we're worth trust? Let's see if it returns,
If you abandon it like faith and leave it cold and untouched.

I wish I knew how not to leave my own trail.
But my presence cuts the air, and I know I can't pretend.
I stitch it back together, each time that I inhale,
My own conscious effort just to draw my next breath.

These eyes must stay open. And That’s the only rule.
So, I'm counting every crack in the wall and in the door.
My heartbeats break open. My blood is in a pool.
Not so much now, but that used to mean more.

Might as well nail the door, I know I'll never unseal.
Or the self in the mirror would start turning away.
Cause to truly open up, would just make it too real.
And nothing real has ever entered my life to stay.

So never again, will I close tired my eyes.
You can Keep your strong skin. I will keep the scars.
I keep swallowing locks, in my chest they reside.
And never again, will I open my heart.
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