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#poetsandwriters

All of this pressure to be one person who is a lie. To struggle to hold feelings in. Push down emotions and love. And to be so young and naive that I didn’t realize what hurt and rejection would feel like. Physical aches for a love of the past. After all this time, why can’t you let my heart heal?

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A promising night

Until that moment in time

When we had a controversy

Here we are yelling and shouting

My hand now on my hip with wrath

You not even two inches away from my face

The anger in your eyes dark and cold no care

Your hand moves quick to my neck

Now your hand is immobile

My breath shortens

You didn’t relinquish me

Me tumbling backwards

Me trying not to weep

But the tears, I can’t hold back

My body shakes, my voice weakens

To this very day I can’t believe it

I threatened you

I told you I would call the police

I was scared, frightened for my life

I never thought you would hurt me

Like you did that night.

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Men

Am I more of a

Man

when I Insult you?

Am I more of a

Man

when I tear the Glow

from the window of

your Soul?

Am I more of a

Man

when I grab you like

a rag and tear your insides

and soil your outside?

I am no more a Man

than I am a

soulless being

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You told me I was a refined weapon of self-destruction.

A keen sense of reality,

pushing its limits beyond sobriety.

A poisonous abyss thats been constructed

from the chaotic nature of like minded strangers.


You told me I should wear it proudly.

A choice ive made to not believe,

abhorrent of pop cultures love of relief

A sinful little doll filled with tragic casualties

Dear Johnny, please set her free.


You told me I was in the heavy hard hitting end of life.

A Zephyr of charging monstrous winds,

Be wary of the force, gentlemen

A call for spring is coming with a daunting knife

Suicide isnt instant its coexistent.


You told me I should smile while I defy the lies that pacify the masses.

A machine that knocks them down in their lusts,

Their freedom of speech to say the word “love”

A bitter lure that drags them in like flowers and a casket

Atropine and platinum indulgences causing convulsions.


You told me I was a refined weapon of self-destruction.

A deadly nightingale of melodious tune,

dripping wine soaked honey irish creme before noon

A blood stained porcelain woman of addiction and seduction.

Pretty little devil made up of gasoline, nicotine, caffiene, Dramamine, guillotines, velveteen, labrynthine, dandelion green, morphine, amphetamines, Queen of the fucking obscene!

-k. renee

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My heart grows weeds where there should be

dandelions

My heart’s cataract tombs breed peony

heirlooms

of the sweetest scent and softest gaze …

*

Flushed pink, pumping red,

deserving of the highest praise …

*

How long until our delusions last,

until this thyme dries and our voices pass …

-ms

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would you be interested in a chapbook? currently debating and i would love if you could leave a comment and tell me!

*please enjoy the new excerpt from today’s writing session 🤍🦋

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café, cielo gris y melancolía; tanto allá afuera como acá adentro se vive la misma pesadilla, yo tan bohemia e incoherente solo plasmo lo qué hay en mi mente y el corazón que solo calla, espera a que nunca se hablé de lo que en realidad el alma sufre, lo que en realidad a mi ser apaga. café, cielo gris y melancolía; me ponen en sintonía para dejar de pensar en los maquiavélicos deseos de mi corazón, por eso al callar, estoy mejor. silencio.

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Join me Saturday June the 6th 2020 as I will be hosting “Sensitive About My Shit” Open Mic poetry! 🙌🏾🙌🏾🙌🏾Back one last time for a Quarantine session. ⁣🎤🎤🎤

Our featured poet will be the one and only @obbiewest 💯 ⁣

All #poets #artists
THE SIGN UP LIST WILL BE @jalanspeaks a day before the show Friday June 5th 12pm EST for you to sign and be a part of the IG live! ⁣
*3 minute time limit ⁣
See you there!!!🔥🔥🔥⁣

#thepencriesaway⁣
#poetry #speak #preach #spokenword #slam #wordologist #poetryislife #writersofig #performingarts #iglivepoetry #igliveopenmic #defpoetrylounge #griotcafe #poetryreading #poetryvibes #poetsandwriters #writingistherapy #therapeuticwriting #scriptyourfuture #itwaswritten
https://www.instagram.com/p/CBBfoGDAPqM/?igshid=1egnatodwivkz

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Never watch Taxi Driver

before you go to bed,

you’ll have only thoughts of violence

tramping through your head.


Cabbies and insomniacs

who work without fatigue,

and unattainable women

who are way out of your league.


Grimy New York boulevards

with hookers straight and gay,

and all the terrible fashions

of the 70’s on display.


Guns and knives and shoulder holsters,

holdups at the store,

doing endless pushups

on an old linoleum floor.


Chatting with a child whore

in heels and plastic glasses,

sad attempts at philosophy

with the inarticulate masses.


Scorsese’s bushy eyebrows

as he plots to kill his wife,

all the awkward screw-ups

that define a lonely life.


I don’t know what it means to me,

what message I should keep,

but next time, I’ll watch something nice

before I go to sleep.

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- I have these moments - when I am doing the most monotonous of everyday tasks.

Reading a book, cooking breakfast, sitting on the toilet in a daze, counting the change left in the pockets of jeans left unwashed; when my mind - not fully focused - will invent the most beautiful poems.

Rhythmic phrasing.

Anguished.

Or joyful.

Pure poetic musings.

And in a flash; when my brain decided other thoughts are more important- the fragment is just gone.

No pen is ever in sight, but that might not be such a bad thing.

Because it would not have been as sweet if I had written it down.

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Excerpt from A Story I Wrote

“And in the end, eventually, books are burned. Stories are forgotten, and legacies are destroyed. Children grow old and elders die. Cities become towns and towns are abandoned. Not all endings are happy and not everyone is satisfied with life. That is the bitter reality.

However, books are still written, stories are still told. Children grow up, and elders welcome death. Abandoned lands turn to towns and towns to cities. Not all endings are happy but those legacies burn brighter.

Legacies are destroyed but they were here, as with all things.

Everything ends, whether good or evil, including stories, legacies, life. But in this bittersweet reality, does anything truly end?”


(Not exactly a poem, but thought it was kinda inspirational and such. Just think of it as free verse lol.)

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Smile


Why don’t you just give me a big smile

It is one of the trendiest style

It goes with everything that you wear

And it’s very infectious, I swear


Please do not be filled with jealousy

From the bigger people that you see

The Universe or your destiny

Both have endless possibility


There’s no need to fear jumping the pit

Because I will always be right here

Courage is not the absence of fear

It is doing things despite of it


You do not have to be in despair

So many people really care

And whenever you are feeling blue

Just know that I am rooting for you


And even through the darkest of times

I will always be here with my rhymes

So I wish you could stop feeling sad

There’s so many reasons to be glad

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