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Kate Lion Nov 2015
7.
but what of the men
who work hard
sacrifice
keep their hearts pure?

the age has passed where one would think to honor them

the only recognition comes

in being a working woman
or a man who believes he is a woman
or the man who has feelings for another man

but what of the every day men
who also do extraordinary things?
This is just to note my observation of how the role of average men who do not claim to be either homosexual or women has been minimized in our society. Everyone's contribution is important.
Oscar Mann Oct 2015
How I’d like to be a man of the people
To write poems that widely spread
To have the public sit up and notice
And nod to every little thing
That I, ever so poetically, care to share

My poems would be talk of the town
In fame and fortune I would bathe
And the public would subtly bow as I walk by
Wondering how I ever so clever
Show what the show’s all about

I would gracefully describe human nature
In a way that everyone would get
I’d share my universal wisdom
The essence of this life
And offer the promise of bliss

There would be nothing I would withhold
From the public I hold so dear
I’d help them cope with love and lust
With pain and loss and death
And all that’s bright and beautiful

But alas, I am no man of the people
And my limits are ever so clear
I myself am an isolated poet
And I fear it’s true what I hear:
That they don’t have a way with poetry, anyway
Spirited soul's bluest hood
covers your greeting smile;

We recognize our aspiring
wishes to gaze near the source

core, the centers of playful galaxies
arisen in one swift loving gesture

You said you're hitchhiking
toward my theater of dreams

I affirmed, smiling, as I stumbled
a bit; wanting to sit by your side

You, willing to recognize our
sweet holly humourous deeds

Even when the presence is murky
you shine green jades and gems

Flamboyant friend from along
Unexpected academic creatio

Having a premonitive chance
that next time we will coalesce

More than we ever expected. . .
Written For the One my Spirit loves. . .Unconditionally!
Oscar Mann Oct 2015
I’ve always needed the city more than it needed me
Wandering its prominent streets
Being nothing more than an anonymous ant,
Crawling past the lines of mechanized zombies
With equally anonymous ants driving them

More than once have I bathed in its street lights
Hoping that it would find my personality shining through
Or hunted down my reflection in its windows
Expecting that visibility would lead to the end of my anonymity
I’ve always needed the city more than it needed me

But now my point of view has finally shifted
As I wandered the streets of the city I hold so dear
Finding that my need to be needed has changed

Finally I have discovered that the invisible man is happy
He is never told to go away
He keeps on wandering, amongst his fellow ants
Under the city’s street lights, reflected by its windows
Not feeling the need to be needed
Not feeling the need
Not feeling
Alan S Bailey Aug 2015
If you want recognition, buy it!
Wow, I guess all of my poems are going to
"****" from here on, but I will still "post them"
Anyway, because they are worthy of their own existence,
And I've got nothing against writing my feelings,
Real fame is brought about by skill, not monetary expense.
Francie Lynch Aug 2015
The paparazzi are staked out
For the latest splash trending.
Telephoto lenses focussed
On the door in a non-descript
Neighbourhood.
Eye-Witness copter hoovers,
We are in rhythm with the whirling
Chop-chop
Of breaking news.
Rivetted to our screens.
A door opens to reveal
A dentist
On his way to work,
Wearing alligator shoes
And wollen pants.
We'd hoped to see
A mane boa
Round his neck.
Death-throws Aug 2015
I hate defintions
if you define  me i become by defintion; defined

define feces
****
excriment
poo

once feces allways feces
you see?


you define me i have no room left to grow
i have nothing left to change i cant change my personality or my style my job or my lover
definie me and you **** me
so i dont mind that my best friends know so little about me
because the moment they know everything about me,
i become known
and my secrets arent my own
so when someone asks me to tell me about my self,
i like to respond  

"by definition; undefined"
Pisceanesque Jul 2015
In the peak of a moment
– at the very point of desirous recognition –
one exists in the present
only to fade into the stillness of
hungry impression;
to fade into the memory
of what might never be again.

Temptation, one’s new master of control.
© Tamara Natividad
www.pisceanesque.com
Written 26 June, 2015
-
Just Caleigh Jun 2015
I'm pressed and stressed, my
Heart
Pounds, echoes across the far-flung corners of the world
Where you stole away my heart, then
Dashed it against the ice of your own,
Beyond hope of recognition. I wish there was a chance
That a small fragment of me still clings to your cuff,
that you might still carry a part of me with you.
It feels unresolved and unfinished. Appropriate, I guess.
Rhianecdote Jun 2015
I remember when I wrote
my first proper story at ten
It was called Gateway to Heaven.

When My grandad died
I found myself preoccupied
With the notion of the afterlife
Cause I could not believe that someone
Like him could simply be gone.
Couple that with an obsession
With space exploration
And what you got was a spiritual sci-fi.

To be honest it was more a screenplay
I bought it into class
for some reason one day
Not sure why
Maybe I wanted someone to read it.
Left it on my desk and went for a ****
And when I got back my teacher
Who had a bit of a flare for the amateur dramatics
WAS reading it.

I was met with an intrigued gaze as I walked back in,
I remember thinking
ahh why are you going through peoples things?!
That's rude!

(Although I secretly knew she would)

Tryin not to blush as she asked
Me questions about it,
then asked me to stand up and read the plot out to the class.

At this point what you've got to factor in
is that I was incredibly shy,
hmm no maybe not shy,
more under confident.
Not cripplingly so,
don't get me wrong
I was incredibly social,
was very popular in my class as a child
but when it came to sharing thoughts of my introspection,
any talent or shows of confidence,
well let's just say I'd learnt to keep that **** to myself...

But I stood up and read it.

And was met with a
mass of baffled gazes,
a memory that I don't think
will ever leave me.
To be fair it was pretty out there,
all black holes, theology and grief.
The silence that fell,
matching the silence of space itself
makes me wary of silences still.
That eternal moment
Tryin to Guage the judgement
thinking oh **** it!
now everyone knows I'm weird,
shoulda just stuck to my status quo in my final year.

But it was broken eventually
by my friend Funmi who said
"I don't get it"
I'll never forget it,
it was sorta funny,
mostly disappointing.
I wish I had the mentality at that time to think these guys just ain't ready for me
but I guess that was that,
class went back to what it was doing,  
teacher came up with
a look of approval and some words of encouragement which was odd,
she wasn't my favourite teacher at all
and she knew it full well
and i spose that marks my underwhelming moment in the spotlight...

*Although I've always
maintained the belief
that it'll shine bright on me one day
or maybe I'll outshine it
After being holed up for the past few weeks watching back to back space documentaries and Interstellar on repeat..having to reassure my Dad that he doesn't have to get emotional every time as we're not in that situation XD I started thinking about my own sci-fi creation and how moments in life really do shape you
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