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Poem of the Month - September 2019

Tyrant of Words
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Joined 15th Oct 2018
Forum Posts: 1432

Fall In Love With A Poet

God, I hope I fall in love with a poet  
He’ll write me in his words  
They’ll be the most perfect words spoken

Maybe I’ll turn out to be his epic muse  
A secret lover between his dark lines  
Or a spark that finally lit the fuse  

God, I hope I fall in love with a poet  
Finding that spark in our conversations  
Penning it out, throwing a twist on it  
I’d be the silkiness in your satin sheet set
And I’d be the plump and comfy mattress  
That is if his writing were the bed
God, I hope I fall in love with a poet  
Someone who can feel through what I write  
Light a fucking torch for me and throw it  
I’d be the metaphors and cliffhangers  
All the multifarious dips and curves  
I’d be the hook, but also the anchor  
God, I hope I fall in love with a poet  
Who really knows how to love
And even more how to show it
Written by LivDiane
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Guardian of Shadows
Sierra Leone
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Joined 16th Apr 2013
Forum Posts: 3295


Fire of Insight
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Joined 6th Dec 2015
Forum Posts: 1547


Full of momentum  
Intoxicated on summer's sunshine  
No respect for the rain  
I need to stop suddenly  
Can't do it gently
Slam on the brakes  
And drift eloquently
In slow motion...
I aquaplane  
Danger in beauty
Beauty in wisdom
Bones fracture brilliantly
Like light in prisms  
No room for logic
Slow motion gliding
Common sense hiding...  
Palace of wisdom?
If I live, leave me bleeding
Sucking moist air
With blood, hair and glass
Wrapped around my face
Whiplash with no headrest
Leave me crippled  
And crumpled...

Another rusted ruin
At the side of the road to excess...
Written by Syd (False Sense)
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Tyrant of Words
United States
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Joined 11th Apr 2015
Forum Posts: 4297

[2019] Driving Everyone Else Crazy

You're a guzzler  
always running on fumes
in constant need of refueling

never failing to stall outside
city limits within reasonable
proximity of a tow truck driver
or decent mechanic who isn't
tired of your manic joy riding
It's exhausting as  
fuck, this combustible  
engine you are
Some of us just want to enjoy  
a liesurely drive - top DOWN
radio ON cruise control GO
without your hopeless
hapless ass waving at everyone  
from the roadside for assistance
all because you ran
the gas tank empty
once again
though not above
siphoning another's
Written by JohnnyBlaze
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poet Anonymous

a mirror of trapped reflection

my words are my power
i deliver them
with no intent
but to be free
of the cage i inhabit
mesh bars and wires
trapping my tenacious spirit

i live within
a false dilemma
no room for an infinite
number of solutions
slate overcome by onyx and ivory
i can leave or i can stay
it is one or the other

i roam the rooms
each one a mirrored image
of what is and what is not
i am in a state of
constant arousal
like a lioness
prowling, snarling
aching to be overtaken
ready for the evening hunt

my mouth opens and silence
beckons the unsaid words
stringing like summer lights
across a patio of quiet souls
we take a moment to imbibe
a vintage absinthe
a lush green and sweet
botanical disturbance

let's spark a fake hallucination
a distorted illusion
a mirror's edge of (in)sanity
illuminated by blatant truth
(reality is so morose)

they stare, you stare
capturing my image
unbeknownst to all
my heart is captured
my soul ensnared
no princess am i
no fairy tale ending
no mirror on the wall

i yearn to explore, deliver and provoke
shattering the silence
breaking the barriers
with wild cries of freedom
insatiable acts of lewd behavior
followed by a pretty little pout

the key dangles
ever so delicately
right before my open eyes
a translucent round mirror
reflecting energy and light
an amalgam of tin and mercury

i see the reflection

...................dancing before me

taunting from a short distance
teasing a chaotic deliverance
of unimaginable consequences
Written by hrshykss
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Tyrant of Words
United States
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Joined 11th Apr 2015
Forum Posts: 4297

Water: Demons

When I lay upon a rock in the river to mourn  
the sun blisters my eyes,      
the slate cuts my toes      
and you run over me, my stomach and neck,        
you run over me, lashing, fast and away.      
As I lay, contemplating the calm of a storm,        
as I lay, appreciating the fatality of peace, where peace can be found,      
and where it erodes,      
dragonflies rest on my nose and my chest.      
The day drifts away on cascading noise,    
building weight on my skin and my bones,
without protection or shade.  
You evade taking on heat in your form's constant movement,        
you evade staying put with the current, it flows.        
Here, indulged in deep, ancient trees      
I am washed under - lost to both man and to beast.    
You feast on my shell, my eyes, my lungs -  
fill it up like a barrel and go running      
across the old land to reclaim the new dawn.
Written by ImperfectedStone (The Gardener)
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Tyrant of Words
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Joined 14th June 2017
Forum Posts: 2314

All-American Bar-B-Que


Seems our world turn'd, (irrevocably),
      (having 'conquered' the Atom),
         to-ward good'ol' Doomsday.

August 1945 ---- Hiroshima, Nagasaki.
    (What more can one say?)

Here dedicated to all the Japanese innocents...especially children,
   incinerated by atomic, hydrogenic, & generalized nuclear
       "energy" unleashed by USA.........
(And also the Napalm fire-storming of Japanese and other Asiatics
     from 1941 - 1975)

God Bless the mighty fraud that is America.
**"Kill them all. God will sort them out".

** originally credited to the Christian Crusaders as they practiced "ethno-religious cleansing" of the Cathars, on their way wreaking havoc by way of "saving" The Holy Land.

Written by dkzksaxxas_DanielX (DadaDoggyDannyKozakSaxfn)
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Dangerous Mind
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Joined 27th Dec 2017
Forum Posts: 469

Related submission no longer exists.

Dangerous Mind
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Joined 27th Dec 2017
Forum Posts: 469

Illuminated Souls

Illuminated Souls
dejure (vick)
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Alexander Case
Dangerous Mind
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Joined 16th June 2013
Forum Posts: 2026



She delights in the most improbable.
like breaking her crayons 🖍 to hear the pop.
a testament to the strength she’s developed in 967 days  
But when she’s done  
So are they  
She wants no part of the tattered ones  
Dutiful father.
I pick them up  
Not able to teach her
just yet  
that the tattered ones  
paint the best stories.  
Their armor easily  
And willing shed to provide brilliant texture and contrast  
I’ll try to teach her to love  
the broken ones  
Even as they grow smaller and smaller  
Speckled with hubris and laughter  
And the hope  
Of yesterday’s  
yellow sunshine  
And rain  
Green grass.  
birds shaped like m’s
And clouds made the same way.  
crooked windows  
And tilted doors  
I’ll tell her  
Listen to their stories precious one  
so that you may know yours.
Written by LobodeSanPedro
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Tyrant of Words
United States
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Joined 25th Jan 2011
Forum Posts: 2019

Thought Provoker
United States
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Joined 14th Aug 2017
Forum Posts: 7

One Day Soon

Buy me a bullet
Rent me a gun
I mean after all
This is what you have done

Tie me a noose
At the end of a rope
Isn’t that what you want?
For me to lose hope

Rent me a condo
On the tenth floor
You know that I’ll jump
Just watch as I soar
Give me a razor
Sharpen the blade
I’ll just be a memory
Like a memory, I’ll fade
So many options
Like a golden key
But you won’t let me go
You won’t set me free
You’re holding me hostage
In my own private hell
The threats keep me here
The lies that you tell
If I don’t make you happy
Then why make me stay
As you shove me through walls
New bruise everyday
The beatings are savage
To them I am numb
I no longer cry
I pray till its done
How long will you hold me?
How long am I here?
Before I decide
What you always had feared
To permanently leave
Not stand by your side
I died long ago
You ripped down my pride
And as your obsession
Your live mannequin
You drove out emotions
And now I can’t win
Won’t love another
You’ve instilled that fear
Never trust again
You’ve assured I’ll stay here
I’ve made you so angry
Don’t take back those words
Those threats on my life
I can’t leave, that’s absurd
I’ll just stay around
Till you’re tired of me
Maybe soon is the day
Finally I’ll be free
Written by Diaryofabasketcase (Silvia Rosario)
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Dangerous Mind
United States
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Joined 11th July 2012
Forum Posts: 988

Pride vs Self-Esteem

Humility is not humiliating
It is the letting go of pride

Self-esteem flows solely internalized
Pride rides duplicitous
Similarly internal
but twisted with a superficial slant
When the id is puffed up with pride
it greedily strokes the ego
Until coming
Apart at the seems

Self-esteem builds confidence
while pride leads to arrogance
Pride spins a feedback loop
that suffers from gluttonous envy
The more it feasts the fatter pride grows
then craves praise even more
to feed it's repetitious addiction

Self-Esteem is everything!
It fills us with a healthy dose of confidence
providing tools for personal success
Pride thirsts for more than just deserts
wanting others to fail, to have less
while saturating the porous ego
'til drowning in narcissistic reflection
satisfying feelings for oneself
Nurturing a necessity
to keep others lingering
on lower rungs of the ladder
to satiate the greed of the bottomless id
Building self-assurance while learning
the difference between pride and self-esteem
is essential to let it go
Self Esteem is everything!
The foundation on which to grow
Planting the seeds within
To battle the weeds of hatred
constructing self-esteem
Suffocating arrogance
Sprouting empathy and acceptance
Rejecting fear, greed and pride
While embracing  
Confidence born from pure esteem
Where Charity is not a business run for profit
Humility is the Meekness that inherits the world
Written by Poetryman
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Tyrant of Words
United States
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Joined 20th Mar 2015
Forum Posts: 1727

Sacred Contracts XL:  The Anatomy of Hate

Lay it Down          
Warrior—the weight          
  of that  sword and shield;          
don't you find them heavy—          
particularly when no battle is raging          
despite what personal perception reveals;          
  or, how the veins in your wrists          
  throb from your mind’s eye          
  under the scars          
of self-inflicted wounds            
Release it          
  that self-appointed penance of past;          
the burden is back-bending—          
its weight a fungi swelling against          
  your blood's          
  production of cells—          
masticating body and spirit          
  into a fatal disease of existence            
  that rusted armour of doubt          
What inevitable war do you envision          
prompting it be worn each moment—          
  preventing communion with peace          
  among those sharing your space;          
what threat do you possibly perceive          
  warranting defensive measures          
versus live and let live          
Coats of Many Arms          
mask our feral nature;          
  but, we all have the same menu          
  from a numbered buffet of choices—          
some of the poorest in material cloth          
  seem the most content in living;          
patches they've stitched are gratitude—          
  things that can never be taken away          
only relinquished through death;          
  even then, there is no separation          
  just a return to our genetic composition          
of Love          
Others with cashmere or silk lapels          
appear miserable, grasping            
  onto what cannot be owned          
  for fear of falling, exposed          
  from their castle of clouds—          
a self-made Icarus, plummeting          
  naked in broad daylight;          
their mask exposed              
How do we become          
  what we are not          
and so easily forget          
  our spirit's purpose—          
all the peace and acceptance          
  we are born with, just waiting          
  to be resuscitated—          
  rise from their bitter grave of flesh          
How do we become so afraid          
  to love, and be loved in return—          
opening ourselves fully          
to commitment, security          
  without thought of losing control          
  over what was never ours          
  to own—or measuring ourselves          
against our neighbor's          
  accomplishments, looks, possessions          
What is the triggered-curse          
  of consumerism—to have, to be, to want;          
and, the secret to break its code          
  for future generations—          
how do we unwind what cruelty          
  crocheted into the womb of society          
Sand falls through our hourglass—          
  a childhood playground          
  where parents sit in the outer circle          
while children of all creeds and colors          
  play openly together          
What was there to distrust back then;          
  or, evil so apparent          
  it had to be avoided at all costs—          
including genuine friendship;          
  how do we become separate          
  from everyone else . . .          
What gravity of race or creed          
  differing from our own          
  are we supposed to hate—          
initiate evasive maneuvers          
  or worse—allow jealousy          
  to overcome our purpose;          
thus, plot to tear asunder          
  through intents so malicious          
 it drives many to suicide          
Hating has become a societal norm—          
  the roller-coaster of news          
  a daily disaster—          
the wild ride anything but fun          
Politicians symbolize public distrust;          
but, we fuel hate by legitimizing attacks          
  through our divisive behavior;          
we use our intellect not for good          
  but to prove each other wrong—          
those who think differently          
automatically become our enemies          
Life becomes a survival strategy          
of forming factions—          
  separating friends from foes          
  rather than enjoying          
  what it offers together:          
Iron sharpening Iron—            
  the contrast of undesired          
 honing who we are            
Can we unravel the cassette          
of pain entwined around each person          
   filled with resentment toward life—          
   the taut bondage binding hope          
   from happiness buried so deep          
Yet, waiting to reemerge            
How much of ourselves          
  are we willing to sacrifice          
for another human being—          
  our lives, perhaps;          
is this the true parable          
  of the crucifixion:            
the weight of what we offer another          
  measured in increments          
from our own painful experience—          
  yet, painful triggers offset          
  our good intentions—          
  and we pause in our work;          
going only as far as our own          
  bruises carry us, ceasing inside the hurt          
before fully abandoning our task          
Hatred is a software update—          
  it comes by default;          
but, you can fully reject it;            
it stems from the dirt            
  of each person believing          
  their own ideology is truth;          
they reject ethnicity because              
  their own kind are superior;          
they detest an opinion because          
  they personally know better          
However, personal perception          
  is not a universal truth;          
we are blinded by our beliefs          
  in ignorance—          
that alone is why we hate          
But, inherent goodness—          
  as difficult as it may be to digest          
  is our true human essence            
Oftentimes hatred is personal—          
  a social game where people recruit          
  others to hate based on rumours          
versus personal experiences;          
  enter hierarchies and cliques          
Manipulators, leaders, and politicians          
know how to play mob mentality—          
  in biblical days they riled up women          
  to unite enemies for a cause—          
much hasn't changed in that respect          
Having a common enemy          
is how hatred evolves—          
   ‘them’ versus ‘us’          
    because we’ve been taught          
    attacking first is the way to survive          
This is how people hate:          
  they believe destroying someone else’s          
  reputation first will elevate their own;          
however, three things          
  cannot be long hidden:          
  the sun, the moon, and the truth
Knowledge is power—          
   the key to defeating hate;          
recognition is the lock          
We are all kindred—          
  of African descent          
we share the gene pool          
  of Homo sapien origin          
There is no 'us' or 'them';          
  there is only one 'we'—          
   a human species          
attempting to escape our planet          
  rather than rebalance—          
reverse injustice toward Earth—          
the preference for profit over life          
Ego is a death-trap  
  we all learn to escape—   
often times the hard way     
So, before it's too late  
  and this life is gone—
  lay it down          
Warrior—the weight            
  of that sword and shield          
  you needlessly wield;          
pick up a mirror instead—          
because the only righteous hatred          
   you should rage against—          
   the only war that truly exists          
is the ignorance within yourself          
The only coat of arms you own          
  should be hanging on your wall—          
not as a battle call, but reminder          
  of how far we've evolved          
Release it          
  the jabs you take      
  merely boomerang;
haven't you learned that yet       
Warrior—let it go          
Propio vos sanguine pasco—          
  I feed you with kindred blood          
Written by Ahavati
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poet Anonymous


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