Lot - Hello Poetry

May 2017

kaylalynn

Too Much

She wishes she could feel her hipbones through her jeans
But instead she rubs the bones in her wrist
A silent reminder of what she is working towards
A reminder of how amazing it will feel when the purity of her bones shines through her skin
Because bones look so fragile
But can bare so much before the break
And that’s all she's ever wanted to be
Delicate on the outside and strong on the inside
But somewhere along the way
She's gotten the rolls in reverse and
Suddenly she has become so weak on the inside
While becoming a mess of blurred edges and too wide lines on the outside

May 2017

a m a n d a

probably not very nice, but whatever.

some people
are just
not very smart.

i'm talking adults.

they just don't have the
it, the
thing
that all the smarties
seem to have.
but they do seem
to talk a good game.

a key component is missing.
things don't add up.

and it's a
strange thing to witness,
to come to terms with,
to accept.

but let me tell you
the strangest thing
the most maddening of things:

observing other people
who you otherwise know
as smart people
fall prey
to one of the dummies.
the liars.
the snakes in the grass.

observing you
in this state of
sickness
and dementia
and delusion
is unreal.

you don't seem to be aware
that you are sick at all.

and in watching the
contortions you will make
for this fraud,
i see that stance
you have taken
on me.

May 2017

Phoebe

Marble

You are nothing more
Than what you are
And that is stone
Cold, hard
A vein running through you
Carrying ugliness
And at your core, you are solid
In that you know you break so easily
When cracked under pressure-
You are made of marble.
A block sitting out
On a hill, forgotten
Chipped and eroding but
You are here.
You are here.
And the best part about marble
Is that it can take a lot of weight.
You must know, then
That you are made of marble:
A statue
Arms raised up towards the heavens
Acid rain tracing ancient rivulets
Down your spotted body
Rock solid, boys built like tanks
Two feet on the ground
A statue of a nameless face
Made of marble
Still here,
It is still here,
So what does that tell you
About being
Made of marble?

May 2017

Mat Jones

Fluidity

Something sacred taken;
Torn from fingers grasping
At a wraith of things held dear.
Avoiding grasp, fog-like.

Helm now unmanned.
The captain, apathetic,
Navigating blindly;
Insidious, with guile.

All things ephemeral, truly.
Permanence, an illusion.
Substance made fluid
Endows fluidity of mind.

May 2017

Star BG

All My Life

All my life I was breathing in the poison air of self-judgement.
The kind that sticks to heart and aura,
bringing heartache in my journey.

Within my intake breath,
judgment of being stupid lodged, causing others to agree.

Within my out take breath,
judgement of not being pretty lodged, as others agreed.

In childhood insecurities plagued, as many teased and touched.
In adolescence fears plagued, as others kept their distance.
In adulthood, I gave my power away, and others took it.

Until light came into self to awake inside heart.

Until heart showed my true divine self.

Now I breathe in clean air celebrating
connected to source energy.

Now I love myself to feel free at last.

inspired by EM Mackenzie

#childhood #adolescence #adulthood #breath #aura

Lot May 2017

Lèse-majesté

Every queen must have a throne,
but mine is cheap and flimsy.
A plastic chair made in China,
worth less than a dollar,
swaying under my weight.
To stay from falling,
whenever I sit,
I keep myself light and fit.
I stay perched in reticence,
balancing the paper crown
upon my jaded head.
As tendrils of brown hair,
fall to the floor in plain.
Hands and feet crossed,
bound in leather and chains.

Try not to be your own worst enemy.

#doubts #selfimage #ana #ed