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Max Neumann Sep 2020
have to find the center of a long alley
ice cream cones of last year, the craving
our way to the center, people buzzing over
so hard to guess the right thing of the wrong

lights are floating through the room, ghosty
at the center of the alley, we will find salvation
smoothen a path inside the snow of the past
frozen water, ice chunks, shannon, help me

have to find the center of a long alley
get me some ***** and a cake, let's go
eat it on-the-go, the best thing now is to go
your mental breakdown was the finest

for a long time, a long time, long time
Caage Gaber Sep 2020
Would you sink into the sand
or could you remain even on shaky ground?
On the elevation, could you stand?
When your hands touch the sky, can you stay earthbound?

If your entirety builds around others
are you those that you lean on?
Are your choices and mistakes yours or another's?
Are you a king or a pawn

Why do they expect me to be them,
when I want to be myself?
Why should I be another and not be mayhem?
How can you worship one and never accept yourself?
Are you defined by the expectations of your peers, friends, or family... why? Take pride in what you're not... a faceless background character...
Simon Aug 2020
The beauty is not yet realized... Is what it truly means to not know how beautiful someone truly is, until they have really seen it for themselves (first and foremost)! Except if you haven't (as of yet, while also not realizing)… Then "the beauty that is not yet realized"... Remains like a "closed book"! A closed book who's survivability desperately depends on that very "beauty"! Demands "recompense" for the actions (to hold dearly) without the consequence in not including oneself (more or less) in on the details, before more facts came too light! Potentially missing out on everything desirable in oneselves very nature as a respectful and loving and caring individual! Such as the individual who this poem is especially "nurturing" for!
Conclusion... The beauty is not yet realized... Because they haft to admit it too themselves (first and foremost)! Before realizations crawl back into itself and forevermore abandoning the right to call yourself..."beautiful"!
A poem about a very close "special" individual of mine! Who's still in the midst of finding their truer beauty (at heart)! A closed book is another matter, altogether. Just as one individuals beauty is not limited by their very own instances when "negatively" saying they "aren't beautiful"... But for how many times they have doubted their own beauty TRULY...at heart!
Zywa Jun 2019
In the open field, there is more to see
than you like, poo and pimples

nothing private, trust no good
for anything, shame everywhere

because it's not a secret
in which you deviate, what you eat

which fears and diseases you suffer
how you wash and experience ***, when

you *******, have a miscarriage, cry
quarrel, are greedy, mean and unreasonable

or sweet, everything that is wrong with you:
someone who can be missed very well

or needs to learn a lesson – for mercy
there are mirror places for that
Collection “Mosaicvirus”
I feel my thoughts,
of feelings felt,
cannot let go, its still
there, poetry isn't helping
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UHsRhWASbvk&t=1960s
Ces Jul 2020
We love our freedoms so much
we fight for it
protest for it
**** for it
die for it

And suddenly, we forget it

This is when one ceases to be an individual
And when the world becomes one-sided
the mind utterly uncritical

This talk of freedom?
Mere babble

Hypocritical
lydia orr Jul 2020
curly toes and fingernails twice as thick
with old banana peel dried and crusted
jarred underneath
skin that tastes like plastic
a distraught girl with flowers growing
out of her head
eyes bleeding onto the pavement
but the heart is still beating
am I supposed to make sense
or are you
I said it’s time to go
but the doctor told me I’m fine
so I went to another
maybe five
and they all said the same thing
make sure you’re walking the dog
and that the dog’s not walking you
well maybe I want the dog to drag me
raw across the pavement
just know my hearts still beating
lydia orr Jul 2020
I was suicidal when I was 9.
Open cute little journal
“I hate myself”
Pages 1, 2, 20.

It’s supposed to be hard to care about other people,
Not yourself.

11 when I felt nothing
12 when I asked pain for a visit.
Just one minute of feeling,
Please.

I connect too deeply with my blood.
That’s why we’re best friends.

Or, maybe, I don’t connect deeply enough with her.
With that warm fluid pulsating the individual dance
Of my
And only my
being.
the days may seem long poetry,
but ive lived more in
the words i write, than anywhere else
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5Hk3Ep9ROms&t=24s
Raul M Murray Jun 2020
Encephalon is the flagitious syndicate target
To imprison the saintly and resistant population
In the research agenda which is classified
We are selected guinea pigs in a nightmare
To the unethical secret operations
Unknown to many, is the silent suffering
Of isolated victims living amongst the community
Satellite surveillance includes electromagnetic harassment
That burning, thought stealing, control of limbs feeling
I was done by the hoary Navy's sonar
Poor dolphins washed up Cornwall's beach(1)
After sonar echoed in my right lughole
Mind control technology has evolved
The community are recruited by false propaganda
Thats the local police, council, library, not restricted to neighbours
Old style Cointelpro is in play
Discredited, slanders, and victim blaming
Who can we share with but other targets
Nobody asked which human is for "use" in trials?
(1) http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/england/cornwall/7443626.stm
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