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Angie Nov 2024
If I stay a nervous bud
my full bloom will not encroach upon the grandeur of another
& I will invite no retribution
Though the artist in me knows
that a whole field in bloom
Pollinates the world.
Bloom with the artists.

If I stay silent
my words cannot be smithed into a weapon of censure,
and be used to cut me into smaller pieces.
Though the poet takes my words
& alchemises them
into an elixir for healing.
Speak with the poets.

If I smother my fire
I inspire no ire from neighbouring Suns
for whom my shine is a punishable theft of thunder.
Though a sister moon mirrors my light and illuminates the next.
Shine regardless.

If I stay in my armour
my vulnerability cannot become the missile launched at me
by the traitor who begged for my truth
Though an ally reveres my courage
and meets it with the honour of their own open heart.
Open, even though.
Julie Frost Oct 2024
This maiden has a noble profile,
Her body is so nice and fragile.
And If I were my friend
I’d marry her and her land.
Jack Groundhog Oct 2024
Graffiti artist
sprays to say that “I was here” —
Ozymandias
With a spray-tagged nod to Shelley
Klausyuer Oct 2024
"
The light we dread on the path we tread,
Scorched by the morals we misuse.
Misread the darkness, our hearts distressed,
Mocked by the values we choose,
Led astray by the prophecies of disharmony.

Heralds of the Righteous, deaf to hideous cries,
Sombre pleas linger, unseen in the abyss.
Angels seek refuge in hell from our treachery,
Watching disdainfully the absurdity we create,
While Demons, now praying for salvation,
Witness the tragic fall of humanity.

Instruments of war masquerade as peace,
Tormenting the innocent’s fragile ease.
A nation built on unity’s roar,
Now silenced by the lies of the false majority,
As citizens, evicted by leaders once upheld,
Fall victim to the very mother they served.

The tranquil ocean of individuals,
Swept away by the puddle of atrocities.
The gavel of justice hammers the innocent,
While the illustrious clowns, adorned in lustrous lies, roam free.
As avatars of Themis fall to Eris' tempting kiss,
Our heroes, once righteous, now stab us in the back with monarchic bliss.

While the poor laugh abundantly at their chains,
The rich weep for sovereignty that wanes.
Failure is the epitome of success,
While schools terrify us to death,
Teaching the race between ending a valuable life
And the finish line of a hollow diploma.

Yet in hallowed halls, they preach dismay,
As arguments and debates suffocate the air,
In this world already choked by toxic despair.

The masks of leadership conceal deceit,
As false ideals march beneath victory's flag.
And when the hands that build also destroy,
Philosophy, once pure and guiding,
Now teaches Angels the art of demonology.
"
-Klausyuer: The ****** Poet
Showing the absurdity and irony of the issues we are currently facing right now
Jack Groundhog Oct 2024
In an aisle of a great stone church
by flickering light of candles perched
under finials and arches tinged with gold,
flags fly for blood shed on fields of old:
They wave with wistful dreams of war
and tell of great esprit de corps
in a house made holy for a prince of peace
whose dreams of love they speak of least
A description of my impressions visiting St. Giles’ Cathedral in Edinburgh. In particular the many military banners struck me.
Malia Sep 2024
If only I didn’t care!
I could float through life unaware
I could spend my hours on practical things
Without wasting time, pursuing the truth.

If only I didn’t care!
I could ignore the annoyances, anger
Would be a far-off imagining.
The world would be gentler, muted
Peaceful, calm, and placid.

If only I didn’t care!
I could lose the bright contrasts and
Colors and flaws that make me
Who I am.
Ah, perfection always
Looks the same, no?

If only I didn’t care!
It would all be so easy.
It would all be so easy and
Dull.
Julie Frost Sep 2024
When your feelings are shaken,
When your spirit is taken,
When your body is cold,
When your house is sold,
You will be revealed
To be quite skin-peeled.
Nat Lipstadt Sep 2024
humor, irony, metaphor,
many other language twisty
stuff makes our poetry fabulous,
intricate,
wordplay that humans
themselves
oft finds themselves
stumped, even stupefied but most
importantly,
delighted…

no piece of *****
computer program will ever
feel delight, nor learn how to write
better than
what I possess
in my souled
consciousness

no matter how many times that
neural connect,
is electrified…
7:21am
september
a month i dislike
2024
Julie Frost Sep 2024
I thought I could rely on you.
You made me change my point of view...
I'm alive and you have died.
And that is why I am alright.
Julie Frost Sep 2024
Sometimes I see her in my dream,
And on her face there is some cream,
And on her lips there is some milk.
Her skin is looking like pink silk.

Sometimes I like her tender voice
Because I‘m mad about its noise.
Sometimes I like her pretty eyes,
They are so blue and very nice.

I often like her total look,
She lends it in a fairy nook.
But I don't like her golden gun,
When I see it, I try to run.
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