• Profile picture of Ghosteen

    Ghosteen wrote a new post

    Rhythms of Sunday Chapel and the Rhymes Within

    Saturday's sunset  cracked the pavements of my skin,  I only flirted with the waitress  to keep my mouth moving    Becoming mute was just a covenant  between redemption, forgiveness and  the snow – shuffling into dark clouds  -  waiting to fall backwards     The rainshiver smells of Thursday  dreaming of...

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    • Your ability as a writer always makes me interested in reading what you offer today. This is mainly why I find a site to frequent. Not for my own accolades, but to be energized by others’ writes. You do that, consistently. Bravo

      • And this is why I am so pleased I returned to the keyboard a decade ago. I was chatting to our great friend Honoria earlier and I’d love for us all to meet under U.S of A skies.

        p.s. I will have British marines as bodyguards, for some insecure Yanks hate me. Lol. It’s always a pleasure my friend

    • it’s always the insecure ones that hate. LOL

  • Profile picture of Damian DeadLove
    Watching Humans Play

    Sometimes the meaning gets lost in translation  Signals are crossed in memories that seem jaded Plastic people are always asking for motivation  Until all the fascination slowly leaves one sedated   Observation is an art form that must be mastered A tactic to study humanity...

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    • “Observation is an art form that must be mastered.” I love the contempt you pour on the system, from the “Marshmallow figures” bowing to a “corporate bastard,” to the reality of censored voices. The final, detached image of “Strumming an old guitar while watching humans play” is the perfect, chilling exit from the chaos. Brilliant and perceptive.

      • Thanks so much for reading and your kind words, Roma. So glad you connected with the write my friend. I do have a lot of contempt for the system. lol. You picked some of my favorite lines as well. Glad you dig the ending, thanks for your wonderful commentary and continued support my friend. Appreciate you.

        Damian

    • I read this in a minor key….
      Great work.

      • Thanks so much for reading and your kind words, Peter. So glad you connected with the write my friend. Most of my writes are in minor keys. Usually D minor. lol. Appreciate you.

        Damian

    • Art is an art. It takes a good eye and connection to emotions. But some treat it as a product. Like Lionel Richie said ‘there are creative artists and created artists’.

      Great ink friend

      • Thanks so much for reading and your kind words, Nick. So glad you connected with the write my friend. Great quote from, Mr. Richie. And it completely true in my opinion. Appreciate you.

        Damian

    • Preach it, in rhymes! Well delivered in a poetic voice that stays to the front of our brains. awesome words Damian.

    • I hear you on this one, Damian. Nice work.

    • Brilliant imagery. Excellent.

    • The games people play are often cruel and thoughtless, and more often they don’t even give their own opinion. Like marionettes, they do and repeat what others tell them. We all should begin to be more authentic and have meaningful and responsible conversations for the sake of all persons involved.
      A brilliant socially critical poem, dear Damian!

      • Thanks so much for reading and your kind words, Elke. So glad you connected with the write my friend. I completely agree with you, communication is critical. Appreciate you.

        Damian

    • Well thought out and well executed. Marvelous write Damian.

    • I think most poets, indeed most writers in general are people watchers at heart .. You just nailed us with this one sir .,. Write on brother .. Neville 😎👍

      • Thanks so much for reading and your kind words, Neville. So glad you connected with the write my friend. I concur with that assessment, we are watchers indeed. Appreciate you.

        Damian

    • Please tell me this one might have a place on the album. This is what’s called a hole in one! Makes me think about how much chaos is visible of what “they’re” doing. It’s like the iceberg. What aren’t we meant to see? That’s the shit that keeps me up nights. Eyes on honesty, as always, my friend

      • Thanks so much for reading and your kind words, Willow. So glad you connected with the write my friend. Actually, I hadn’t considered this one. But maybe I need to take a closer look. Always a pleasure reading your commentary. Appreciate you.

        Damian

    • “Plastic people are always asking for motivation” I like the message on this, as if some folks seek validation from others to feed ego. I’ve always thought the initial motivation should be intrinsic so as to have a solid foundation in our true worth. Maybe social media has watered down much of that.
      Amazing work.

  • Profile picture of Fia Naturie

    Fia Naturie wrote a new post

    Ambrosia

    The cool crisp white sheetsused to be inviting When thoughts of how they willcool the skin after your touchReminiscing about nights filled withsoft flickering candle lightsDancing to stay on the wickWhen I accidentally bumped into the nightstandNow I wait till...

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  • Profile picture of Cipher

    Cipher wrote a new post

    Ohm of Home

    Coming to terms with the self, in ways unique to the self days over days. Seekers seek the self. Stealth in a wealth of shadows. The mist of this hallucinatory height Is made of: Mountain. This pen a font of Fountain. Chips pushed forward lips speaking onward to the seeking: Stalwart Poet. You fuckin know it. World I Set on Fire ***Cipher Poems***

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  • Profile picture of Ghosteen

    Ghosteen wrote a new post

    Fade Into You

      Frozen are the arms of anticipation  how quickly does ice turn into rust?    Please tell me that your eyes are pearls  anchored to every tanker ever sunk,  my horizon is becoming narrower  in the wake of every day    Just returned from the coast  and how the...

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    4 Comments
    • hello dearest Rob wowee that’s quite a write I loved the ending ❤️

    • Rob, your poem is like a fever dream. I was instantly gripped by the desperate longing and brutal cynicism, and I loved the image of the Autumn chill being “chloroform to every dream buried under sand.” The sudden “Fox News” line completely took me off guard, but I found its cynical, real-world punch hilarious amidst the rawness. It’s a relentless plea – a cinematic scramble toward desire. Unforgettable.

      • Slip inside my dreams Roma and place cinema scripts upon my skin. I could Sunday scribble a thousand words, but in the interest of public decency, I won’t

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