The Magic Is Gone

The magic is gone

Did you hear me young man?

I said the magic is gone!

.

I want to kill myself

Not in the real way

Just in the whiny hipster way

.

Maybe if I start crying

They’ll realize I’m a human being

.

Maybe if I shoot off into space and never come back

They’ll love me unconditionally

.

Maybe if I become famous

They’ll worship me like Jesus

.

TICK TOCK

The faces are blank

TICK TOCK

Their hands are empty

TICK TOCK

Their hairlines receding


I watch them wipe their assholes then smell their fingers and smile afterward

I watch them tell each other political stories drunk

I watch them obediently stay in one place and slowly dissolve

.

The pens and paper are drunk

The poems are lost at sea eating each other for survival

The stars are tired of you romanticizing them

I mean come on,

You can’t even point out the Big Dipper

And I will collect
the drips of blood
that fall out of your wounds,
in my hands,
hold them,
until you are strong enough
to drink them back,
and I will watch
you lick my fingers,
as you gain back the parts of you
that you had lost,
becoming whole again.
—  V.I.P.P.

Deer Kill More Humans Than Sharks

It’s midnight.

From the sidewalk past the dealership

You can see a couple

Making love

In the backseat

Of a showroom car

Barest comprehension

That the dim lights

Illuminati

Rapture

Or perhaps they were exhibitionists

Half-dressed in sheepish clothing

Either way neither seemed

To be able to take

Their eyes off of the road

State-dependent learning robs

All of our mojo

As your eyes met in panic, froze in fear

I don’t think a deer in headlights

Ever gave a thumbs up, though

Before walking on

With a feeling of missing something

Maybe they had the need for speed

Or maybe there were no rooms

At the inn

Maureen Armstrong @haikkun

Shackles

learn to live your life, girl


there is no one holding chains at your feet,
any longer


dragging you down
to meet their standards


putting you through crippling circumstances


there is nothing hurting you,
any more


don’t let the weight of their voices
hold you


there is strength, within you
to break free
of your chains,


I see it every day


let it go,


you will see brighter days, 

I promise

you have so much more love to give

I look at myself,

I don’t like what I see.

I don’t like my reflection in the mirror,

I don’t like being me.

All these thoughts that fill up in my mind,

And this emptiness I feel inside.

I don’t like my body,

And these acne scars,

All these bruises,

And these wounds inside my heart.

— Ana Mekaela | Imperfections

Fruits of the Spirit #9

Joy as defined by the poetic dictionary:

When you shudder in a heat that surges though your veins, and tears and smiles merge to become one and the same. The tongue has so much to say, but sits still waiting, for the heart to stop pacing; for words to brim and put meaning to this undefined elation, slowly analyzing this sensation. No verses form, no poetry, only one word holds: joy.

Other definitions include:

  • The wagging tail of a dog, the life in his eyes, and the love in his heart, for a presence that he adores. The return of a loved one.
  • The beginning of an adventure, the map marked and studied, when treasures are so close to the dreaming soul but so far in reality. But just as much, joy is also in the fruitful end, when the quest that was riddled with attrition, seems like an old friend under the light of your glistening success.
  • Joy is the air around a group of friends, who know the depths of each other souls. It is the conversation that incessantly unfolds of all stories old and new.

Synonyms Include:

  • Mirth
  • Pleasure
  • Happiness
  • Elation

Antonyms Include:

  • Sorrow
  • Despair
  • Sulk
  • Lugubrious  

Some say joy is a guest of choice, we can host her when we want, while others find her an elusive spirit, like butterflies, just fluttering about. The unanimous stance, if there is any, is that joy is what we seek, she is the element that makes ordinary, a memory to cherish and keep.  

                                         -Mild Reflections

So the journey ends. It was a pleasure working with @vagabondprophet, a great poet and a fun friend, someone who always has interesting stories. Thank you once again for making me a part of this.  

this isn’t a love poem —
this is about changing your mind
over the letters spilled
on cold beef and sandwiches,
this is about sinking
into chairs as you
tell me that the jam
started tasting like goodbyes
and the coffee stains that stopped
looking like hearts;
tell me,
when did we stop making love
next to the spilt milk
on the kitchen counters?
when did we start
exchanging potion vials
instead of sugar-cubes
from your mouth to mine?

this isn’t a love poem —
this is about letting my hand dangle
as we tread on the snow
for the eleventh time.
darling, you felt like a
daydream flung from a
summer paradise
but every snowflake wanted
to touch your hair
like i used to do.
this is about that winter
I let my hand dangle,
hoping you’d take it,
but you kept yours inside
your sweater’s pockets
and i kept mine in the cold
and I guess we were just
lost refugees
that never made it
out of all that snow.

this isn’t a love poem.

this is about the fights
bedtime CDs didn’t resolve,
this is about the books
we swore we’d read together
that are now dressed in dust.
this is about the townhouse
three miles from us
that we said we’d buy,
and the elevator rides
no longer colored with
pin-me-on-the-wall kinda kisses
and the drunken embarrassing stories
we have long forgotten.
this is about the storming off with your bags
that third night of May
and the crumpled bucket list
of museums we said we’d visit
and the places where we fell in love,
slowly disappearing from the map.

no, this is not a love poem.

this is just
another poem,
you’ll never be
able to read.

this is just
another poem
wasted
trying to make you come back.

this is just another poem wasted on you.

— fray narte

when you find the right person they won’t take all your problems away. they won’t make your rent any cheaper or your parents any nicer or your workload any lighter. but oh, your life will feel easier. when you find the right person you’ll smile brighter without even trying. food will taste better, and you won’t even need alcohol. when you find the right person you’ll get dizzy and drunk off their laugh, or the way they tuck your hair behind your ear when it falls in your face. when you find the right person they definitely won’t take all your problems away, but they’ll make your problems feel a whole lot more bearable. when you find the right person you’ll know. you’ll know that they are it for you, forever. and you’ll do anything you can not to lose them. when you find the right person, god, you’ll never want to let them go. sometimes you’ll lie awake at night, staring at the ceiling, wondering how the hell you got so lucky, and how the hell you’ll ever be able to live without them when they’re gone. ‘don’t worry,” they’ll say “i’m not going anywhere.” and then they’ll hold you until the sun rises. that might just be the moment when you realize that there is nobody else you’d rather see the sun rise with. when you find the right person you’ll fight. there will be 2:00am screaming matches and slamming bedroom doors and hot, salty tears running down both your face and theirs. but when you find the right person it won’t even matter, because no fight is too big that it can’t be fixed with flowers and an i love you. actually, the flowers won’t be necessary. all you’ll need is an i love you. when you find the right person all you’ll ever need is an i love you.

you will know love and loss and lonely nights. you will know what it’s like to laugh until your sides hurt and you will know what it’s like to cry until you’re left gasping for air. but when you find the right person—and you will find them, i promise—it won’t matter that life is hard and unfair and unpredictable. because when you find the right person, you will know that you won’t ever have to go through it all alone.

my love

I promise I’m not going anywhere
I’m here till our days go dark,
and the sky falls
till were lost
I’m here till I can’t give any more
till time ends


till death do us part


I’m never giving up on us.
my heart may stop,
I might self destruct
I might become distant
but I will never go far

Your hands left craters.
 
My heart is covered in holes.
—  poeticallyordinary

If your sky is gray let me help paint it blue; then when nightfall comes, we’ll place stars there too.

J.c.A.

You’re gonna meet people that you really want to like but you just don’t feel anything towards. And you’re gonna meet people you don’t want to like that make you feel a lot. And sometimes those people that you don’t care for, won’t care for you either. But sometimes they’ll become obsessed. And sometimes it’s the other way around. And sometimes you meet someone that surprises you and sometimes people are exactly what you expect. But the best part is that you have no way of knowing who’s who besides jumping right into the middle of it and it forces you to feel- and sometimes to not- and that’s what makes things scary and messy but also fun.

Withdrawal

suffering has become constant
I reach for you when I shouldn’t
I hear your voice, and cringe
my stomach turns
my conscious is sick
I break into a sweat
after nightmares, of your memory
only to awake, in a reality
I no longer wish to be apart of
hurting,
as the days move forward
realizing


my symptoms of withdrawal

I’m in my 20’s and I still see 15 year old me, rubbing her eyes and crying. In the middle of her whimpering she asks me ‘Why doesn’t anyone love me.’ and I just shake my head and return her gaze before turning the light switch to 'off’ and walking away in hopes my answer will come to me the next day.
— 

a. h. eun

i love the colour of your eyes, i freeze when they look into mine.

— tans // there’s something magical about you

Overwhelming:


there’s a lot of discomfort, crawling beneath my skin/ there’s a lot of hurt, riddled away in my love notes/ my heart holds, an abundance of pain/ constantly reaching for peace/ relief / my rib cage/ is overwhelmed with grief, and daisy’s / most day’s it hurts me / most days it’s overwhelming / most day’s I try to break free / so that my flowers can bloom safely/ some days my heart aches immensely / like it’s going to stop/ like it’s going to give up, on me/ it’s insane.

at least,
I’m always trying.

I push myself, to make it work.
I push myself, to forget.
I push myself to understand, the discomfort.
so, it’ll never happen again.
so next time, I’ll have a fighting chance

I deserve,
a fighting chance.