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(please ignore the typographical error lol)

I strip by the mirror, and mindlessly stare. Defenseless -- as always, but now I'm aware. The wind's never late; I have to keep steady.     The cold of this world won't wait 'till you're ready.

I run to the shower. My favorite place. The droplets are warm -- they run through my face, My shoulders relax, the steam fills the air.     The cold of this world won't bother me there...

Away from the wind, but not from my brain, Which echoes my worries wherever I'm in. Anxiety blossoms, and grows unrestrained.     The cold of this world is born from within.

At last the world calls. Which facts will unfold? Which one of my fears reality holds? I'm not ready. No one is. I have to be bold.     The cold of this world.     I must face the cold.

I had a breakup so I wrote a sad song. It's a bit jazzy. I hope lyrics count as poetry.

In the morning

The one I wish I never knew

In the morning

The last one I'll wake with you

.

When the words that come out

Are whispers of a shout

From a heart that pleads it not to be true

.

In the morning

The last morning I have you

.

In the morning

After confessions in the night

In the morning

I never held you so tight

.

The dreams that we had

That could never come to pass

A bird who broke it's wings

Before it hit the glass

.

In the morning

The last morning I had you

.

instrumental

.

I made sure to smell

Your hair before farewell

I don't know if you noticed

I don't know if you could tell

.

In the morning

The last morning I had you

No longer told I'm young

Not told that it's my weight

Not told that it's my mental health

She acknowledges my miserable state

Giving so many vials of blood

I hope to find a cure

Or at least some sort of treatment

For the hell that I endure

Waiting waiting waiting

For the next appointment date

Anxious for a diagnosis

To learn about my fate

The doctor could not tell me

What she thinks is wrong

She started me on medicine anyway

My heart sang a joyous song

More tests need done for a diagnosis

But that's not the most important part

Being given something to make me feel better...

I've waited so long to start.

My whole life has been pain

And suffering and woe

I never thought I'd be taken seriously

And misery is all I'd know

But now I have hope

To be free from this strife

To take my freedom for myself

To be able to have a life

My poetry is hella shitty, but I wanted to post this anyway because I'm really happy that my new rheumatologist is taking me seriously and I need everyone to know lol. I'm finally getting treatment for how shitty I feel after trying to get taken seriously for 20 goddamn years. Hoping the treatment works. :)

The prompt was "Trees." If you know how to format line breaks instead of paragraph breaks, please let me know.

Timber

I have heard that wood will warm you many times,

When you chop it,

Split it,

Burn it and cook-

I find a standing dead.

It's no good taking the fallen,

The wet gets in so quick around here.

Leave those for the beetles.

Abraham Lincoln said

If he had six hours to fell a tree,

He would spend four

Sharpening his axe.

My father once asked me

"Why not use a chainsaw?"

I could let another man

fuck my wife.

Sweat slick and

Sore muscles

Never felt so good.

Life shorn of its artifice.

I wrote a comment recently in response to a senator describing himself as "pro-choice" in defense of his refusing to repeal child marriage statutes. I recognized a poetic rhythm and have adapted it to hopefully fit as a submission here.

Pro-Choice

Yeah, he's pro choice-

Pro choice like a gunman asking, "which kneecap?"

Pro choice like a lioness stalking a herd of gazelle.

Pro choice like a homeless man can choose a bridge.

Pro choice like deciding between financial and medical ruin.

Pro choice like a rapist asking, "ass or cunt?"

Pro choice like choosing which bill to put off this month.

Pro choice like a backalley crackhead choosing another hit.

Pro choice like forcing a mother to choose between an impossible baby and an illegal abortion.

Yeah. He's pro choice.

they raise you somewhere between quiet complacency and revolutionary rage and hope you choose wisely one day

these shoes are very big they might be clown shoes my mouth sewn shut between quiet rage and no agency

then disapprove of you and your quiet despair but you had everything i had more than i could stomach

when you meet them again even smaller than last time their childish tearful eyes asking you are we free yet?

All girls corrupt like waves of brackish salt Stolen from the world their youth the delta mix Lies are told to make them think that it's their fault

Though women try to shield them from the stiffened gault They are dashed and churned into those bluish bricks All girls corrupt like waves of brackish salt

A purity they chase as if their ends they think they'll halt Yet purity escapes and dies along the River Styx Lies are told to make them think that it's their fault

As girls do age and stiffen up like malt To be like brick and stone for society's new picks All girls corrupt like waves of brackish salt Lies are told to make them think that it's their fault

Nights dark past days dreamt.

Visions without forms, Delusions of grandeur.

All alive, in mouths gaping.

Dreams burst, of just being, Of scenes heard, And not screaming.

Listen, Don’t lead.

Alone in the silence, Scenes play of wildness, Of that irrationally emergent, Of that potential-packed-peace.

Of the motion that moves, When intentions cease.

what if the angel came as a mushroom or divorce a disease or a despair what if it kissed your head so impossibly pale you forget how to breathe for a moment for the lifetime of an empire and then remember again

I made some poetry about AI systems and based upon the malicious AI hypothesis interweave it with sound. The performers are all AI generated to lend some real paranoia to the words. I hope you find this acceptable and interesting.

And so he held it A universe of possibility Bursting crimson and perfume That reinvented moments prior

The dark, life-giving abyss No longer barren but now Sewn with dreams Simmered below the surface

The green flesh that fought Hard against an immeasurable barrier Unseen at first, now Radiant and pitched against the sky

Days of tending drought Cracks in the earth below Stepping stones to a bounty A cause to fight for

Finally fought and won He gazed at it, not through As he had just before And so he held it

There once was a house,

In which you were allowed to play.

To rest,

To lay,

To love,

You were forever welcomed within its halls.

There was a house,

And there were many locked doors,

But you were okay,

Helping the owner open them.

There was a house,

And behind one of those doors,

Was found a rose,

Wilting,

Dying,

Under a glass dome.

There was a house,

And the owner wanted to renovate

Not much to the outside,

But the rooms they had found,

They had so much more.

There was a house,

And when you came,

It was with fear,

For you did not see

What the house wanted to be.

You tried to not let it show,

To buy materials to help

To give advice where you could,

But could not hide the quiet.

There was a house,

But you began going to others,

And when you came,

You told the house how lovely they were.

You spoke of their wallpaper, their carpets, of how everything works so well.

As you stood on everything new,

Using the old words for me.

There was a house,

Now it is less

A strewn mass of rubble,

That you skip happily down.

Running your hands down faded walls,

You pay lip service,

As you pass the rose,

part of the centerpiece of what this house was to be.

You never see the roots,

As they climb down the table,

Wrap around all around them,

Pull everything tighter,

Together.

You complain as you prick your finger,

Dancing down the thorns,

How dare this house hurt you?

There was a house,

And the echoes still ring down the halls,

Of the name you call.

Those echoes fill every room,

Surround all that you claim to hold dear,

Because you can’t see,

That Rose is also here.

There was a house,

But there is a garden now.

I wish you could see it,

To call it beautiful,

To lay among the flowers,

To call their petals soft.

There is a garden,

But that does not mean the house has gone away.

Smooth breath

I beset from your bated breath

Unless the stress that's given to me clear

Resides unfound and unclear

The key to my restitution lies in recognition

Opaque and sticky, defiance. Then remission

Upset and overreliant on bad positions

The lever's balance is set on a dud pivot

Problems unseen stay while shit thickens

While the root is left untapped

The branch kindles

When the words barely whisper

And the songs known forgotten

When the seldom well wished

And a stone throw's the bottom

When the once well trodden

Is soiled down and sodden

Accept the well wishes of ones who once wished

And song without a singer like food without dish

And sing those well wishes to your brother on a lake

Stoning throws, hitting water, showing off for the sake

They say to have big ambitions Reach for the sky, chase your dreams How bad can it be With so many stars to land among?

But those goals are unwieldly My arms short, my legs worn The moon a bland dot behind And the stars still so far

A small hand reaching A warm smile on a sticky face An invitation to share In some juvenile pursuit

Let the cold stars sparkle And the moon have its space For me, these little dreams Are enough

can you tell I don't understand poetry

I was gonna make a meme about this but decided to go with a poem of sorts instead.

---

Edit: Dang, I'm not entirely sure what I did right, but I'm glad yall like my little poem 😭

Something from Nothing

How is it a wide broom

One end fixed, the other free

Could sweep a circle

And another of the same

One end fixed, the other free

Could sweep another

Could clean less together

by working alone

or by squarish fix

No more straw

Nor force besides

Together, working side-by-side

Greater than the sum of their parts

I'm not much a poet or a writer. I struggle with Depression and just looked for a Way to get my feelings about the Up and Downs out. Feel free to criticise or whatever. (This is my alt Account so there is not much activity)