Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 1063° 
Jeremy Betts
Whatever will be, will be
I guess that's what they call certainty
A vague destiny
But where does that leave you and me?
A collective we
We'll have to wait and see
Due too love messing with thé
Predetermined story

©2025
 750° 
badwords
I read
what you wrote.
It is beautiful,
and not mine.

I have laid those bones to rest—
not in spite,
but in mercy.

Your voice is strong.
Let it carry you forward.
I won’t follow.
But I will listen
from far away,
in peace.
 674° 
Nat Lipstadt
When I enter,
the black holes of myself,
they are located,
transcribed upon the
blackboards of our
unified bodies,
the magnification of energy
transversed,
principles demonstrated
by the unconcluding
conclusion of the expansion of
creation,
the rebirthing of one universe
never ending

When I enter a woman,
the discovery sought,
the definitional needed,
the proofs equational,
the factors constant,
not the variable
truths,
the demonstrations positive,
the constants of the universe,
combinational, all within,
a single point glistening

to gentle comfort this
knowledge of my wasting,
the foresight of my limitations
from the day of birth
my matter,
matters,
my energy
neither destroyed or created,
illimitable,
my decline inevitable

and yet

cannot alter my atomic structure.
my future guaranteed,
my inner light,
traveling so fast,

it has yet

to arrive

When I enter a woman,
the laws of physics
become special theories
of relativity,
we are motion in time,
force and energy
nucleotides rawest refined,
elemental and particle nuclear,
packets of light
exclaimed

When I enter a woman,
organic, chemistry,
interdisciplinary
my body and its life force
shaped as
electric current transceivers
crossing galaxies,
there can be no deceivers,
there but and only
the birthing of heat,
a byproduct of
interjection, conjunction

she is my proof
long after the
log normal of my nerves,
now parceled to the
invisible of an oscillating
log natural,
fertilizes the sea grasses
that so intoxicate,
flying, carried,
by the invisiblity of the winds,
all-where I have chosen
as my shifting shape,
when this container
leaks and crack'd,
rentery orbit,
the nearest garbage strewn
construction-dead
lot

When I enter a woman,
physics far beyond
the commonplace,
physical transition
to knowledge
of life ever after

death and fear are
time sensitized
passing notions,
crushed by the
consolation of physics,
the eternality
of a time
once begun,
cannot end,
and therefore
this,
my one theory of everything,
is the God
I worship
The phrase "the consolation of physics" was taken from a novel,
City of Thieves by David Benioff. The other nonsense is all my fault.
11/23/14 8:30am

for my blonde Big Bang theorist
 489° 
Agnes de Lods
Carrying my truth.
I stand by my views,
watching through
my weakening gaze.

After a raging storm,
making peace with myself,
I vanish into the air,
my convictions fold with me.

Without simple answers,
wearing the new lens,
I see another world:
not clearer,
not wiser,
not safer,

just slightly shifted.
 418° 
Zahra Ali
We can't know the sea's
depth without the swim,
Nor gauge tomorrow's
progress until it's lived.

Everything reveals
itself—in motion.
 403° 
Kara Palais
Your tears, they fall like crystal rain
Each one a song of sweet despair
I trace the edges of your pain
And lose myself in shadows there

My baby, you're a dream undone
A broken hymn, a bleeding star
Still shining when the night is gone
Still beautiful, just as you are

Your scent, it haunts my every sigh
A ghost that clings to skin and bone
Your lips once red now whisper why
And leave me feeling more alone

I love the way you fade away
Like smoke that slips through grasping hands
A rose that wilts but dares to stay
Still blooming in the shifting lands

You're lost to time
But in my mind you linger, true
A tragic song, a dying rhyme
My darling, I'm here and still I worship you
 318° 
lizie
i told them i was tired.
they said “get some sleep.”
but i didn’t mean
tired like that.
i meant tired
like i don’t want to be alive.
but no one
heard me.
 306° 
Aditya Roy
It is a part of you
That was left collecting dust
On the shelves of time
 303° 
Dom
If I may,

I want to be buried like heated nickel,
Deep into your cooling waters,
My shredded skin revealed my vibrant and scarred colors,
Where my cracks were filled with gold,
I yearn to know what it’s like to be exposed,
Naked beyond naked, where my soul feels a solemn breeze,
Where my lungs dare to breathe.

I want to know if you like ink knows paper,
Transformative in alchemy,
We can combine and dilute the solvent of our mixture,
Concentrated star dust irradiated by lost love,
If only I can bathe in you.
love is alchemy
 286° 
Libelle Marcellus
You did not defend me.
What happened in that moment
Was a test of character
And if this was a book
You wouldn’t even be
a supporting character
Not a sidekick.
Not a subplot.
Not even mentioned in the acknowledgements.
You are a footnote
In a chapter I’ve already turned.
 279° 
Dom
Like an eager painter
I’ve splashed red across the milky white
Deeper in the center pinker as it trails out,
She loves the way the leather brushes her canvas
Stinging swashes and caressing strokes,
Her smile rings of joy where the moans cry out in pain.

There’s a twinkle in her eyes
Smallest pellet of tears working
Simultaneous with the pooling drenching tight clad cotton
I can smell Dior mixed with her sweet nectar,
Tickling the nose just over the bristles of my rough stache
And I return to my canvas, another broad swash,
Another clapping slap of skin to hide;
Echoed sounds reverb in stereo back tracked by the sweetest cry


“Please” isn’t a need
And barely a beg,
Show me with the wiggling of hips
Tease me with slight arches
Waft your *** to tremble my senses
Make. Me. Lose. Control.

She pants, heavy breaths
Shallow, quick - needing
The brain is in a fog - a haze
One tracked, foaming at the tongue
Drooling down her chin,
Flush ruby rose cheeks -
She’s fiending like an addict
Out of control convulsions when the brush tickles the warmth of wounds
She’s swooning with her body, slithering in silk sheets like a snake in sand

“Come for me”
I command it, not ask for it
I demand it, not suggest.
My fingers press against the fabric
And with one swift grip the cotton fails
Ripping from the wetted seams and drenched middle
Honey sticking to glistened flower petal lips
Looking like spider webs caught in rain.
How pink and perfect, dribbling uncontrollably-
She is ready.

I enter an index and *******
Folds gliding and inviting first and second knuckles in,
Curling down pressing towards the belly,
Opening and curling, come hither, follow directions
Make me happy, make me proud.
Make. Me. Lose. Control.

It doesn’t take much
The build was effective,
Her body was quaking for release
And as her body shivers and shakes
Her screams go hoarse,
Eyes roll back and sight nearly goes black,
Her core contracting like doing sit-ups at lightning speed
Her leather cuffed hands grasping sheets
We have reached the crescendo

And after the crash and clash
After the waves have passed,
A silent bemoaning remained.

“PlEaSe….”

And then I lost control…
 257° 
Malcolm
Golden thread pulls tight,
soft whisper dressed in longing
the soul forgets home.
Flame that feeds itself,
burning joy into sorrow
let it die to live.
Cravings rise like mist,
vanishing with morning light
truth waits in the still.
Copyright Malcolm Gladwin
May 2025
 196° 
Zara rain
You were not made to be only a lighthouse.
You are the ocean itself.
If you as me have felt hopelessness regarding your existence. Unable to unleash the universe of yourself? Desperately fighting the currents of your situation - arguing in monologues about why you exist - purpose - reason - who ****** decided the way life turn out.... To be, is no excuse. How to be is a different matter
 177° 
Kezexxe
People look at the blue sky,
The sun shining,
They think its beautiful,
Then the clouds get jealous,
They roll in,
And people look away in disgust,
Then the rain comes,
Because the clouds,
Are crying.
 162° 
BreadyWheat
My yeti is eating spaghetti
Does he like the noodles
Does he like the sauce
If not,
I'll show him who's boss
 161° 
Dead lover
The numbness post your yelling,
Was so telling
Of how I irrelevant I was to you.

You had forgotten the care,
That was there
You had tainted recollection of what I did do.

I cherished you, you cherished me.
But not really,
Hence you've already moved on to someone new.
For #SZ, I hope you work on your anger issues.
 158° 
Lumin Guerrero
Good dogs listen

Bad dogs bite

Hurt dogs
cower
whine
bite
and listen
 143° 
lia
I stared at the clock—
and it blinked.
Just once.
As if it knew I knew.

Time slipped sideways,
my breath turned slow,
and shadows whispered
where light should go.

Maybe I’m dreaming.
Maybe I’m not.
But the moment paused—
and the silence forgot.
 132° 
Madeon
You are here
and once again I sink into silence
like a speck of dust in the light
reaching for peace
 129° 
Lily
Ash
A little boy, deeply wounded
Scars hidden inside the moon
His love for his parents left so soon

A man, deeply sick
Saw his rescue lying
His mind forever dark and dying

A little girl, deeply sad
Sat down to understand
Why her dad didn’t hold her hand.

A teenage girl, deeply hurt,
Knows the secrets of the moon
And longs for light to break the gloom
 129° 
Abbott J Hardison
I used a notebook for the first time in days,
Writing about flower bouquets.
Naming all the little plants in my garden,
Ways I could use the clover in my yard,
In an elaborate center piece.
Plans to make her fancy flower assortments <3
 115° 
BloodOfSaints
One more moment in your presence.
That is heaven.
And everything else is exile.
 113° 
Lance Remir
If I am not rage, then what am I?

I tried love, trust, patience, empathy

They were accepted out of courtesy

But discarded like an inconvenience

If I am not anger, then what am I?

I tried so very hard, so much time

Just to receive little effort and no time

Just to be abandoned and misled

If I am not anger, nor am I rage itself

Then I am the pain you gave to me
 106° 
Lenora Mira
I don’t know how I’m going to die
but I don’t mind.
If it was sent in a letter
it’d be left unopened, and marked
return to sender.

I don’t need to know the way
the twists and turns coming ahead
the fraying and tearing of fabric
being fed into the loom

I will know only what is in front of me
and trust the enjoyment I have is enough.

Lean on the day in your hands
because it is the only one like it you will ever get to see.
 105° 
MetaVerse
Aliens loom
In the skies overhead.
They might be the doom
That makes us all dead.

Or maybe AI
Will do us all in,
And all men will die
By cyborgs with "skin".

But, likelier, Man
Will be his own end
Before he began
To be his own friend.
 103° 
Maddy
Remember when we listened to amazing music.
Still do.
Classics like Fogerty and CCR,Janet,Gloria,Billy,Elton,and Rod
Newies like Katy and Gaga
Attend amazing concerts and performances.
Travel and explore
Older not old
We have been in the dark for five years
Always
Kind
Loving
Caring
Helpul
Giving
Respectful
Not Judgmental
Light is calling for happier and sunnier days
Always
 99° 
Cadmus
✈️

A slap on the tarmac, crisp and clear,
From Madame’s hand to France’s dear.

Not war, not scandal, nor fiscal gap
But history paused for a marital slap.

The cameras rolled, the world took note,
As dignity slipped from his tailored coat.

If kings once fell to sword and plot,
Now presidents blush, and say they “forgot.”

👋🏻
Sometimes history is written in treaties, sometimes in blood, and occasionally, with an open palm in front of a presidential aircraft.
Despite the current
For the river and the sea
 90° 
Dom
Every wail of wind
Is a mournful dirge
Carrying off through the distance
Where tenebrous finger like branches sway,
And the moist air feels like a tearful eye.

The pale light won’t shine,
She hides her face in a cacophony of smoke and mirrors,
A majesty so shy she turns her back
As the wolves cry for her in loving sonnets.

Deeper is the black that darks the skies,
As veins of electric light quickly strobe the clouds,
There’s a crack of a cackling giant,
And the tears fall from angels,
As a strident breeze breathes across the landscape
As the trees mosh in syncopated patterns—
I calmly wait in the midst of storms.
Who doesn’t love a thunderstorm, even if it’s internally?
Let the light in, don’t get burned.
Willows will cry, but no longer you.
And may May last just a bit longer.
Seeds grow in darkness, and you can too.
 85° 
alison
Sometimes the perfect person takes the longest journal to get to.
 82° 
ranveer joshua
Baby ginger, an ex sighting,
and an “I miss you”;
will I ever win;
maybe I already have
There’s a corresponding playlist; lots of Men I Trust
[tuesday 27 may 2025; 00:39]
Las piquetas de los gallos
cavan buscando la aurora,
cuando por el monte oscuro
baja Soledad Montoya.
Cobre amarillo, su carne,
huele a caballo y a sombra.
Yunques ahumados sus pechos,
gimen canciones redondas.
Soledad, ¿por quién preguntas
sin compaña y a estas horas?
Pregunte por quien pregunte,
dime: ¿a ti qué se te importa?
Vengo a buscar lo que busco,
mi alegría y mi persona.
Soledad de mis pesares,
caballo que se desboca,
al fin encuentra la mar
y se lo tragan las olas.
No me recuerdes el mar,
que la pena negra, brota
en las tierras de aceituna
bajo el rumor de las hojas.
¡Soledad, qué pena tienes!
¡Qué pena tan lastimosa!
Lloras zumo de limón
agrio de espera y de boca.
¡Qué pena tan grande! Corro
mi casa como una loca,
mis dos trenzas por el suelo,
de la cocina a la alcoba.
¡Qué pena! Me estoy poniendo
de azabache carne y ropa.
¡Ay, mis camisas de hilo!
¡Ay, mis muslos de amapola!
Soledad: lava tu cuerpo
con agua de las alondras,
y deja tu corazón
en paz, Soledad Montoya.

Por abajo canta el río:
volante de cielo y hojas.
Con flores de calabaza,
la nueva luz se corona.
¡Oh pena de los gitanos!
Pena limpia y siempre sola.
¡Oh pena de cauce oculto
y madrugada remota!
 79° 
Neil Mcpake
There was a sense of ultra violet and blue knowing my love for her was true. With sensations of my desires tore through my aspirations of my heart. As it beated with a infatuation. While her geniousness of her mind. Stopped my world from spirling into the abyss. As I found only the perceptions of her trust. With no disceptions of our passions as we turned young to old then to dust. Feeling me with a burning sensation deep in my soul. With temptations kiss that's when I knew her love for me was my only wish.
This bit of poetry is about trust and commitment knowing there's temptations in this world that can ruin love.
 75° 
Shadows
You smiled once, and now
my thoughts bloom like spring petals
soft, endless, and yours.
For now
 75° 
Alien
I draw a smile on my face every day.
On the end of the day I erase it.
The next day I draw another smile.
I keep the routine.
Continuously I draw and erase
Eventually burn a hole.
well things are looking up‘, says the bear,



‘now maybe they will believe in me,

like you do’



yes. yet.



i can see and hear you.
 72° 
Leo
Escribo, borro,
escribo, borro.
Como si la vida fuese un libro,
un clásico;
como si el lápiz
no se gastase,
dejando solo la goma.
Como si fuéramos imborrables,
como si no se nos pudiera
romper el grafo
en cualquier momento.
Escribo, borro,
escribo,
borro...
 65° 
Asuka
I need no chariots of gleaming steel,
Nor crowns forged in the showroom’s zeal.
My wealth is woven in quiet threads—
The softest light where family treads.

A mother’s warmth, a hearth’s embrace,
More precious than a gilded chase.
Sister’s laughter, like a gentle stream,
Flows richer than a polished dream.

While others race in chrome and fire,
I walk through fields of humble desire.
Where simple moments bloom and grow—
There lies the treasure only I know..
True wealth isn’t found in shiny cars or flashy brands, but in the quiet moments shared with loved ones, the warmth of a mother’s embrace, the laughter of a sister, and the simple joys that bloom in everyday life. While the world races after glitter and show, real treasure grows in humility, love, and presence.
 61° 
F Elliott
(for the one who stands at the edge, where the fabric begins to fall)

She had once been known—
but only through a portrait
painted in the shades of misunderstanding.

A silhouette mistaken for substance.
A voice mimicked before it ever found
its own breath.

She knows this.
And so the chains that bind her now
are not forged of cruelty,
but memory—
a memory that clings to who she was
before she could ever choose to become.

And still, she dreams of the sunlight.
Of fabric falling, not ripped—
but released.
Softly.
Willingly.

In the warmth of a gaze that promises
no weight will be added
to the skin that already bore so much.

She does not want to be reclaimed.
She wants to be re-seen.

Not as the story once told,
but as the story now unfolding.
A woman not returning,
but arriving.

And if the beholder must grieve
the version of her he once adored,
so be it—

for only in that grief
can he welcome the miracle
of what is finally, freely,
and beautifully real;

and  hope upon hope--

     not one of his own chains
     in sight



It's like a loan
when all debt has been forgiven..

https://youtu.be/i5siBAOAAjw?si=67zrtxAadsV-nwDW

#TheArtofLettingGo
Next page