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dead poet Feb 18
men of endurance
will often take the back seat -
they’re driven by poise.
Kat M Feb 17
Maven, she calls me
I know not how to deserve
Reverence she holds
Feedback Welcome!
David Pan Feb 16
Sonnet- David Pan

Where is your feathers when can I reach
Wood drops sands, do not exist.
Winds and storm come with your speech
Wise creation, gray blue green, list
** - brush strokes input blood.
Er-the work rare no other’s strangle
Had with wings waving floods,
Elderly treasures gift of my struggle
Heavy goods soften elastic.
Slay all kind, I hold cood sand.
Prejudices arrogant pride me graveyar-d sick
Impart inherit along long proud.
Flashing idea unreachable parts
Solid power unimpeachable hearts.
My best written as my teacher force of mandatory  on me in valentines.
Dom Feb 11
The scent of *** perfuming the frame
As you smile for the camera, so profane.

I can feel your trembles
Legs shaking like Parkinsons
Barely able to compose a word
Letter fumble and bounce out of order
Dyslexic disorder from guts rearranged
And every thought’s the same

Feeling empty without a brain
When your heat feels cold without me near
Every opening on you claimed
Dripping an army of me like a leaky main,
White contrasting white, glueing to your frame

You coax me with a finger, want more
It never stops, you’re insatiable
And I love the way you move,
Head game incredible,
Bob like your catching apples in a barrel
Gawk gawk the sound in bass and treble
You want my hand around your throat, girl you are trouble
But I can’t help but give in to the urges
This XO in my body got me nervous,
I’m switching gears giving in to perversions

This paddle gets it’s work in
*** so red, painting white roses
Part those legs like Moses
I promise you, I’ll take you to paradise
Now succumb to me in osmosis
Oxytocin lucid, screaming to wake the muses
Amsued with every stroke that produces,
A huge rift, crescendo of screams we can make a new hit

Reverse it on me baby,
Show me how you do this,
Ride me like a bull
And teach me a new trick
Hit you with that good whip
Bruises across your plump ****
You’re begging for more
And this XO got me nervous
Giving in to perversions
I’m about to get this work in


Inhale the X running through your veins
The scent of *** perfuming the frame
As you smile for the camera, so profane.
Inspired by listening to the Weeknd, lol.
irinia Feb 11
Perhaps time is a machine gun when it stops. These words capsules for the unbearable. I would go away from the smitten crowd and talk to the sea. I pray to her: at least she examines its hallucinations of power.  To restore the heraclitean movement of our tragic faults. Try to create life with dead words from a dead sea of splendour, but the beauty of words is always unexpected.
Inflation accelerates in this incubator of power, its obscurity a destiny.
Do we still understand the meaning of light when women get pregnant with salty wounds, with poems that decompose as soon as they are born. I'll keep wondering if the echo of the sea grows in circles while this deluge of deception is a tomb for our thoughts without echo. Trauma is ahead of the game shaping falsified days for deranged deeds. Perhaps a sea of laughter is restored somewhere  like a pool of light fleeting on somebody's lips.
How can we see and it's in front of us: cruelty writes history.
Time violates its own decay when the world gets to be somebody's prey.
Amir Murtaza Feb 7
Questions are vital,
Life thrives on questioning—
Yourself, others, the world.
Without questions, you cannot grow,
You cannot think,
For questions ignite thought,
And thought fuels change.

Yet, there are those in power,
Strong in might but fragile in mind,
Afraid of questions.
They silence voices,
Suppress bright minds,
Youthful minds,
Minds that dare to ask,
"Why?" and "What if?"

Across the epochs of history,
There have always been
The brave who question
And the fearful who evade.

Do not be afraid.
Raise your questions boldly.
For it is through questioning
That you challenge rigid thinking,
That you confront the immovable,
Even the most powerful.

Raise your voice,
And let your questions
Shape a better tomorrow.
You tried to hurt me
Tried to beat me
Ha!
Don't you know that
we
will
always
triumph?

You thought you knew better
Thought you could ruin me
Ha!
Don't you know that
we
will
always
come
out
on
top?

You thought you had power
You thought you were stronger, but
I
will
always
win

To be underestimated
is the
greatest
power
one can have
Perhaps, once, across vast and prosperous lands of abundance, inhabitants of many great civilizations thrived and cared for the earth they called their own. This was the way. Then, though, cloaked in black and filth, the slim faced invaders emerged from their firm ships, this shifted. The new status quo was to comply with theirs. How dare they punish progress? This would have been preferable had the inhabitants of the land had a choice, at least, but they did not. The foreigners knew this, and strategically sickened their people with disease—how could it have been an accident?—***** them and their land, and plunged their prosperity into the dark. As the years passed, only tales of the past, the former nature of this land, were what remained. Forests fell. The ways and the winds changed. Forts flourished. The foreigners’ descendants believed they needed to form a more perfect union on their land, yet one only they could enjoy. Just like those before, these people reshaped the land they claimed was for community and fueled an empire of capital accumulation and individuality. How could we not? As the centuries counted away from that fateful fall, the agenda of ****** the land and its people and reaping the benefits remained, overtaking that of old. The natives made attempts to stop it, and lessons they were taught. How dare they punish progress? Some listened, realizing the natives deserved rights, so the new status quo was to comply and grant them compensation and rights. Molded by its newest wielders as the seats of the world, it was a model to aspire to. This was the way. Now, across vast and prosperous lands, great civilizations live in abundance with all the things they own. Perhaps.
Written on 2024-11-12.

This is a prose poem written for an English class on creative writing during our poetry unit when we were instructed to write one. Our prompt was to write a single paragraph poem inspired by one we read in class that day. Version 1.0 was written solely with the intent of chronicling the events that occurred across North America over the past few hundred years since the arrival of the Pilgrims from Europe, but this version applies more broadly, depicting core similarities between events that occurred to all areas colonized by European colonial powers. I attempted to give the speaker a neutral perspective, merely observing and commenting on what happened than criticizing and/or glorifying a particular side. I tried to holistically encapsulate the goals of both sides, too, demonstrating how they are near complete opposites in concept. For instance, more capitalist societies egocentrically using the land to yield maximum profit contrasts more socialist societies respecting the land in a more ecocentric manner.

Additionally, when vaguely described in practice, they seem eerily similar. The end is supposed to mirror the beginning as well. More specifically, the tone of the poem is supposed to shift from acceptance to resistance, then back to acceptance one more, as well as from natural to artificial to natural again. A shift from a land that claims people to people that claim land also occurs, signifying the shift from indigenous to European power. The “[p]erhaps” at the beginning signifies the fact that these are stories being told from the perspective of the people at the end of the story—hence why only the final sentence is in the present tense—and that they can’t be certain. It was done to further the mirroring motif included throughout the poem.

The theme of Version 1 was nature, but this version’s theme is progress and its subjectivity depending on which side of conflict is being asked. This highlights that both sides are equally valid, even though they see one another and their ideologies as lesser, even bad.
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