“They always bite the hand that feeds them”, Poetry by Sofia Kioroglou

 Genre: Religion, Philosophical

 Always be a giver

cast your bread upon the waters

Don’t expect anything back

It is not just the 613 mitzvot we are talking about

It is just a matter of kindness

You know what they say:

They always bite the hand that feeds them

 

 

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How to Kill Yourself, Poetry by Emma Miles

 Genres- Depression, suicide, dark, angry, painful, personality, death, hope, life, relationships.

—–

 Stop looking at yourself in the mirror
Your reflection will make you narcissus
Ignore the dark circles
The rough patches
The discoloration
You already know about all of these things.
Don’t think about how you are alive
Have been alive
And will be alive
For a long time to come.
Stop listening when people give you compliments
Smile
Look down
And giggle
Make it seem like you’re blushing
You don’t really feel anything anymore.
Forget the first house you lived in
Let these things wash from your memory
Talk about them
Tell everyone everything about yourself
Once they have it it’s not yours any more
It’s not your burden.
Let people compliment your eyes
Even though they remind you of your father
And every time someone tells you
That you have beautiful eyes
That they could get lost in them
That they remind them of moss
And soft forest floors
Allow yourself to imagine birds
Plucking out your eyes
But never tell anyone what he has done.
Drink
Drink as much and as often as you can
Never seek out the situations
Allow them to arise organically
But take full advantage of them.
Ignore what your body is doing
Pay no attention to the ache in your left kidney
Move past the sharp jolt in your liver
Warning signs are everywhere
But you have to keep running past them.
Get hit a lot
Sit on your bruises
Bite down your pain.
Be loud
Be as loud
As obnoxious
As annoying as you want
Then listen when people say things that you already know
And then cry
And then blame them for making you do things
Things like dumping out their shampoo
Ruining the lock on their door
Carving things into their faux-wood flooring
Never flushing the toilet
It’s not your fault.
Bang your fists against your temples
Like you saw someone do on an episode of SVU
When you were 11 and suicidal
Feel your own rage put back inside your body
Hate yourself
Hate your stretchmarks
Hate the fact that you can’t bring yourself
To do anything other than hit your body
Over
And over.
Kiss people
Stick your tongue down their throats
Even though it makes you nauseous
Feel yourself becoming friends with them
Understand the bond that you have
Never allow it to become anything more
Set up boundaries
Make yourself sick
Make them happy
In the end your own lament makes you overjoyed.
Remember the time you swallowed a handful of pills
And you lie to people and say they were prescription
But they were motrin
But there were a lot
You counted them all out
You got into the shower
You filled your mouth with them
You swallowed
You waited
You threw up
You can’t die.
Not yet.
You have to suffer through a little bit more
And then you can go away for good.
I can’t offer a quick fix
I’m all about the long game
The soft and slow torture
Making yourself a bit more miserable than you already are.
Do these things every day
At least once a day
And you’ll eventually fade into nothing.
And that’s the sweet part.

 

 

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Coda, Poetry by Forrest Jamie

 Genres: Breakup, Closure, Heartbreak, Love, Relationships, Romantic, The End

—-

Darling boy
I know how this story goes –
it’s ours, after all
and I could read it
with my eyes closed.
And why must re-reading those chapters
of our one-sided love story
hurt so good?

You said that
my coffee brown eyes felt like home,
but you’re the wandering kind
and so
the timing is all wrong.
You never stay (in one place)
for too long.

I’m an open book.
I give myself to you
anywhere
anytime
and every time,
you leave with another torn up page of me
but I couldn’t care less if I tried.

We will always be
my favourite
romantic tragedy.
 

 

 

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Forever, Poetry by George W Knox

Genre . Love

I beg to be counted among the crowds

who behold your splendour

for angels conspired to paint you

a masterpiece, forever displayed

in the gallery of my heart

and yet amongst the hoards

of those more deserving

I find only me

a speck of dust

in a mountain of humanity

for I raise my voice

to the heavens in awe

as angels saw fit to bind together

a woman so perfect

and an undeserving man

but still I grasp love’s jagged thorn

endure its pain

and smile

– safe in the knowledge

that I have given with certitude

my heart

as you travel through the depths of my being

to meet at a place where our hearts

can dwell

as you search for my soul

I will take you there

where bodies grow old

but the love in our heart

will always burn

and when the master beckons

I will look in your eyes

to wipe away a tear

with a final kiss…..

as we begin our journey

to eternity

George W Knox

 

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Dear Paigey, by Astroleuth the Poet

Genre: Love
—-

Thank you for wanting, to protect my money

It was a big lump sum, and you made sure not lost,

You were, very nurturing,

Know with your daughter you’re too, at any cost,

You are truly gorgeous inside and out,

As you demonstrated that day, cared for me,

When I went in recently, saw sympathy,

A curse to like the pretty with clout,

You are a ray of sunshine, but out of my league,

When I’m below average in looks, and have a condition,

That makes it hard for me to connect with humanity.

If you gave me a chance, would you downgrade like him?

I’m aware, so I didn’t even try to approach,

I just want you to know then,

You’re an inspirational lass, a life coach,

Our paths will probably never cross now,

And, you’ll probably never see me again,

Don’t call the officers, or try to find me,

And, you won’t hear from me again, now,

I wrote this poem for closure, on St. Valentine’s Day

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Paralysis, A Mara Prose Poem

Genre: Life, Rhyme

—-

 
The ‘shoulds’ paralyze me
They lead to the what ifs, the maybes and the could haves
My target is never stagnant and does not allow me to move
I am unhinged and hindered

My doubts subdue me
My failures asphyxiate me
My gains seem miniscule

My mind prepares a catechism
It just can’t let me rest
What’s right? What’s wrong?
What’s my truth? Am I really strong?

My curiosity sacrifices me to injunction
I trial. I tribulate.
I wonder. I investigate.

What I desire is not always mastered
What I master is not always consummated
So I freeze and second guess

The shoulds paralyze me
I am a hostage to its psychological strangulation
I must bargain for my release
I have to be aware of my capabilities
I must believe in all that is me
Even if that means leaving life more of a mystery

The shoulds are a guide, a formula that doesn’t always add up
Convention can equate to confinement
Rejection can equate to judgment
But the world is not our jury
Yet, the shoulds still paralyze me

~ Mara Prose
 

 

 

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CONNEMARA, Poetry by Christine Emmert

Genre: Nature, Society

—-

Caught in tangles
the comb pulls
cloud-locks
smooth off heads of mountains.

Lake below
finds sympathy
as swans fret its surface.

There are snowflakes
dancing above us
like shiny stars
where we kiss
on the borderline
of commitment and liberty.

Magic has no long term spell.
We are dared and delighted
as tresses of clouds loosen
streaming free
from the grasp
of Winter’s hand.
 

 

 

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What If?, Poetry by Cindi Walton

Genre: Rhyme, Family Fantasy

—–

 What if for a moment in time
I could go back to childhood where everything rhymed
Where silly cats sat on a broom
and mysteries surrounded King Tut and his tomb
Where magical fairies were real as could be
seen through the eyes of anyone three
Where the greatest delight on a warm summer’s day
was cherry Kool-aid and the cold sprinkler’s spray
Where trees were castles that one must defend
with knee scabs and bruises for mother to tend
Clouds became monkeys and stars with the moon
were watched eating ice cream dripping from spoons
Where bedtime hugs made everyone safe
and kisses on cheeks, sunburned and chafed
Where rules were in place to keep order and peace
served up with French fries dripping in grease
Boundaries for safety, yet freedom to roam
all in the backyard of that place I called home
Thank God for the memories that live in my mind
that take me back to a moment in time
(Cindi Walton 2017)

 

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Lost, Poetry by Grim Angel

 Genre: Pain, Hurt
—–

Bloodied and blistered are my feet walking a path of
stone, glass, and hot coals.
Wondering when a straight and narrow path turned
worst for the trek towards my goals.

Twists and turns lead to a forever path
of confusion, sorrow, and pain.
Lost. I’m no longer confident in
the things I want to gain.

Always was one good with directions
and was certain of her way.
Till the wrong turn at a fork in the road
led me astray.

Obstacles were always easy to overcome,
except this one. I’m lost.
Now I have no confidence in defeating
any impediment I cross.

Gazes towards the sky hoping He
would answer my cry for help.
In the end there is no answer.
I’ll have to find a way myself.

Demons of self-ridicule, doubt, and hate
ride my back.
On this journey to finding the right path,
I’m always under attack.

Still beaten and bloodied
I move forward to an unforeseen goal.
Hoping that these hardships and
demons aren’t consuming my soul.
 

 

 

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Heartbreak, Poetry by Shalana Pace

GENRE- Hurt
—-

My heart aches for you, it cries for you.
For all that is no longer safe for you.
Love the skin you’re in
So they say
But not too much or you’ll have to pay
With your life that is
You see
You are so powerful, so strong, so influential
But they won’t stop to see your potential
Instead they claim to fear you
Black MAN, woMAN, we will never forget you Sandra Bland
My heart aches for you, for all that is no longer safe for you
Turn your music down
When they come around
Jordan Davis we will never forget, OH and what about selling cigarettes, remember that’s a threat
My heart aches for you, for all that is no longer safe for you
Gone too soon and we are left with what could be,
If only you hadn’t worn that hoodie
Stand still, don’t shoot, hands in the air son
Self defense! oh wait that was a toy gun
License and registration please,
You can now lose your life selling CDs
My heart aches for you, it cries for you, for being black is no longer safe to do!

 

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