Petar Kostadinov
2020-11-02 10:04 am
“Writers ———————- Have gentle souls Have a heart of a sunshine The one written word they paint From their lives with each brush in their hands The good times The bad times The treasured of times Their words are best told From its beginning to no ending They paint each season They create each reason They form each line As they stand even at the bus line As they wait for their train to arrive As they drive their car they must stop At the parking stop and quickly write Otherwise they will lose their track of Song they want to sing” (c)10/31/2020 by Petar Kostadinov
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Innasense
2020-10-10 09:54 pm
Warning: this is looooooong and if you’re a sensitive individual the first parts may bother you. But hopefully the last part will inspire you. Speak your truths friends. The ones who matter will love you all the harder. #worldmentalhealthday Hidden Stories They smiled, jokingly told her she looked tired, “Must’ve partied hard last night.” Smile quietly returned, “just didn’t sleep too well I guess.” She didn’t tell them how hard it was to get out of bed this morning, How sleep never came last night, How it felt like the darkness would just swallow her whole, How she felt hollow and empty and there weren’t any tears left, just an ache deep within that wouldn’t subside. And maybe if she just squeezed her eyes shut and stayed in that bed in the blacked out void, She wouldn’t have to face another day of faked smiles and “I’m ok” lies. “Just tired today I guess.” “It’s warm today man!” “What’s with the long sleeves all the time?” “Got some crazy tattoos under there?” He smiled, laughed along with them, Self-consciously ran his hands over his wrists. Over the bandages binding his secrets. They didn’t know how close he got last night, how he almost let go, How so much blood, HIS blood swirled down the drain, mixing with his tears. He was sure no one would miss him, but he wondered if he would miss this world, And the good days out in the sun, Few and far between as they were. What would they say if he were gone tomorrow? “You should’ve come out with us last night. You would’ve had so much fun...” She nodded and made those “next time” promises, though she knew they were lies. She’d stay home again, Wrapped in the icy grips of loneliness, Which felt somehow better than her burning cheeks when the right words just wouldn’t come, or the wrong ones spilled out, and she felt their eyes on her, Panic rising, thoughts frozen Wishing she’d just stayed home, Away from the judgement, And all the wrong moves she always made “Haven’t seen you around in a while! Doing ok?” His mouth smiled, head nodded, lips formed words he’d said so often, automatic. Because, really, he thought, How could I describe that moment last night, body curled up with forehead cold against the kitchen floor, Ears covered to block out the voices, Silent screams wracking his body as the panic overwhelmed him, No breath to speak, And who could he call anyway, How would he explain these moments of pure fear that slipped in unnoticed and become everything, took everything, until he was a shivering shell of himself. Sometimes he wondered, if they could see through him, would they think him weak? Would they walk away...? These people are all make-believe, but the experiences are not, taken from articles and discussions and sometimes even revelations from real-life friends. These are not my stories, but they are someone’s truths, Not their weakness, Not their short-lived sadness that they can just “get over” if you try hard enough to make them happy. (My gosh do I need to remind myself of that part sometimes...) But that doesn’t mean you stop trying. Love them y’all. Love them so damn much that you’ll sometimes break through the cracks in their self-inflicted armor. Listen to them, Give them the chance to be open and honest, And if what they say makes you flinch, imagine what it must feel like for them. Do something kind that makes them smile and get ready to do it again tomorrow. Smile and laugh with them. Cry with them. Be genuine with your thoughts and feelings. Give them space, but check on them. Pull them out of the dark for just a moment, say, “I’m here for you when you need me. And I always will be.” Mental health issues are often invisible, but still feel debilitating to the one inside that head. Stay educated. Be understanding. Love the hell out of each other. ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜🖤🤍🤎💗
Innasense
2020-09-17 05:44 pm
I may have recently found a love of haikus...enjoy a heap of them! Such a small creature A fascination in green Life measured in hops Grading seems endless Constantly processing...sigh, Your work is due friends Bike accident, ow! Purple bruise on my kneecap Tiny tragedy Dead creature, a gift! Spare me your adoration Love in kitty form Humanity ruins Each other, our home, all things The one true constant Build each other up A constant stream of kindness Love creating joy Sleep eluding me Again I’m counting critters Heavy eyes please close This day could be good But only if you live it Stay here, keep trying Tiny puzzles these Haikus pieced together and Shared with awesome friends
Gord
2020-09-11 05:58 am
Drinking Bowls and pitchers, like smoking coals and timber; If only bones could lift, Our home, save the children, Even buried having all gold and silver, Can an afterlife supply of groves and vineyards? Old and crippled, mouth of the old man dribbles, His eyes meet to eventually form a river; How can he romance with trombones and singers, When he sees and himself, groans and withers, Lays down again amongst the toads and lizards; Eyes hollow and wrinkled, bathrobe, slippers, Windows, the stones that hit them, now coal, Used to build all the roads and bridges.
Lynn
2020-07-21 01:31 am
devouring the skin inside my lip. of course, everything in the human body is connected. of course. staining the porcelain with blood and iron, iron and blood and water, the permutations of rust. my voice becomes sticky, sickly sweet - the performance of wellness thickened even further by blood. my crazy, concentrated and caustic, drains through my nose and onto my chin and onto my shirt and onto my hands and down the drain. “i wish the blood inside my mouth were yours”.
Gord
2020-01-14 04:33 am
Power, in the form of a word, Flowers in the form of the world, Cowards, in the form of the word, Towers of form, of the world, Yet so far from dirt, So says the eyes: If one wrote a novel, Bible or implied shorthand, It would be in favour, Such is the land.
Gord
2019-11-07 09:07 am
Misunderstood lyrics, Reverend, Had you not asked of my kids, Or the loved ones I cherished? Thorough I write my kinship, Kingship, flagship furlough, No science to write myself, Is it just lies of unknowns, Just lies, unknowingly, Trust dying in fun foals, Or stampedes around the field, Not Informed of where they going? Can God even hear a man when he moans, Does he cover an ear, hope and pray? Does he occasionally call things gay? You misunderstand my intention, No questions ponder foolish in heaven, God's gift could be enjoying the stay.
Gord
2019-02-06 07:32 pm
Sidewalks broken on my boulevard, Auburn hair where I used to walk, Talk, and think of her dialogue. I'd thought greenery would fall, Replaced with concrete barriers, Perhaps I'd talked too freely, Told one too many tale too tall To still be taken seriously. Discreet forever, words picky, Discrete for ever, world sticky, Disformity for even worms licking. Take me away from this place, For even screaming and kicking, Seeing worse, feeling indignant. Not to curse the growing infant, But the plants must go. No handlebars rusted, To bikes comprised of broken dreams, No van full of children hopeful, Just a van to the hospital, please, My heart is about to explode to pieces.
Gord
2019-01-09 12:52 pm
I write without notes, No goblins, or hope, Aftermath nonsense. So? I write long-form cribs, Despite shotguns, dibs, Despite skunks glibs: Seven, Eight. Eight, Nine. Just in time, coughing: "Forgive my hands, I am pandering, but All I wish is to climb, My trip divine, My lips atwine, Would you be so suited, Had I not arrived?" In the middle, my tie mismatches, Patchwork outfits, simple acids. Dissolve an owners possessions, Would ten not ask, where are my people, Clothes and houses? I would think at last, and note it, Seven ate nine hungry and homeless, To not play such a hand, preposterous. By standards awful and longing, With numbers staging off-brands.
Gord
2018-11-05 10:53 am
My heart filled with love, Only my paintbrush coveted. Simply a coward with canvas, To give forms anew, forever, Formula new, for you toward, Perhaps to give in retort. To highlight, grey, Brush dusty and disdain, My desires of microphones, Speakers though, just saying.
Gord
2018-10-16 05:56 pm
In my city they wish for dreams, Fish in streams, with no disease. Innocently they live of demons, Give no lead, monster. Imposter husband, Who touches a lot, Possibly you are of honors, Kissing no others, Triage cupboards, heed. For up above there is no seer, Magical being informs our love, Only me. So where mist is aqua, My spirit is awestruck, A blessed potato, tucked. My stomach is full, I have work too abrupt, Where a kiss is awkward, Kids living squalid. So in my city, of missed ague, I will breakthrough, My break through, a great due. A comedic debut, no laughing, A great deal of scoffing at me. My blessed potato, to keep me warm, To be eaten, and too returns. As I scrape these tile floors, Let no-one know, current location: Somewhere forward, even from tomorrow.
Gord
2018-09-18 07:29 am
She won't relent, Heart of paper, stone read. Western hero, composing feelings, Zeal formulaic, deceit ceaseless. Eastern, kind words repentant, Unlikely to spend life waiting, Ferment, offense, to be condemned. Sweetheart, If one only dances, not for scent, Lance just for chests, Language, port for gents. Madame, another supplement, For what drunken mess is other, Than more time misspent? To see the end, would we prevent? Could we? All I see is a girl, a vent, Policy diverse, absurd, dissent.
Gord
2018-09-11 01:30 pm
Pour courvoisier, coke, smoke weed. For core voices toking loke green: Cork d’or choice, spoke woke meaning, Joke broke gleaming, Boast goat dreaming, Invoke oak healing, Poke coded readings, or cook mud. Saying I wouldn’t eat if off the bud, Gimme a fucking break, dawg you would. So form apostrophes, hoax followers, Dominate dossiers bespoke by leads. Chorus needy, broadway job, police: Honest lobbyist leaps, not, Calling policy preacher law, Homely Claudius fears god, Homer justice, and beating his chest raw. Former lover, for I see you as bourgeois, Fleecing people of their heart and minds, Champion blind, one eye is all but lost, Camping, body weak of fighting for causes, In causeways, his cautious mind pines, Cheesing through life, eating off rind, Leave, dodge, dive, Breed, scoff, lie, Edict goes like: What is life? Four courses, hope, feeling? Of course there’s more, but more redeeming? He simply says: I’ve not found thy.
Gord
2018-04-27 09:29 am
Feelings made up, makeshift, Ideals for tomorrow racist, She remarks foundation. He responds formation, Endlessly talks mountains, Flying fowl, howling oasis. The boy comes around, Left alone unanswered, Too late for pounding. Too late surmounting, Midnight is the hour, With a toy box full of clowns, Breath like oneself drowning, Her words are like fire, Counting her countenance, Even if she implied flowering, He runs away cowardly, trampling.
Gord
2018-01-23 10:53 am
He dreams of winter, tireless, listless, Forming fists, linger, Five fingers for taking, Making and mocking, Flying at the equinox; Checks to greet, A future cost. Apart from his words, He talks opposite, Of walks in the park, And poor pessimism. Perhaps one day, Forgotten is passion, Castles of young love, Tall as his bastion. He tells you of virtues, Rarely living attache, Stacking stones, Flashing cards flourished, Floor patterned, Checkerboard, Poorly planned, Colored randomly.
Gord
2017-12-22 08:16 am
Poems raging, lacking pace. Rhyme displaced, slave poetic, Mimes a mate; Ascetic eighth. He contemplates, Turmoil ashen like a lake, Dry, passion like a brace, Ally, fraction of a base, Like traction in a maze, Honest. Falls on his face, Spoiled rotten like a cake, Miser, action of a fetes, Wiser, lies of his teeth, Master of feelings, queens, Preachers and lease themes. The forums elated, Rhyme chorus to cup, Slated liars, Foreword comments, Style stolen from bucks. Foreign orphans portioned a trench, Sowing poems owned forming trends, Lies chorus, verse honest, Hurt's doughnut and curse harmless.
Gord
2017-10-18 11:50 am
I have concepts for days, Metaphors for four hours, And wordplays for wakes. I'm not bragging, I'm just impaired, Flawed above the mane. Miscarrying paper knowledge, Cutting loves careless arms. She finds herself wanting, Hair flowing, river forming, Learning is her sophism, So she lies until tomorrow, Feigning disinterest ursury, Tales of cursory, courtesy. A verse aloft in the clouds, Sounds out to an empty crowd, Life of deception floundered. World as in twitching flour, Face equal, equivalent arms, She curtsies and bows, turns; Runs away, her face as ours.
Gord
2017-10-13 11:32 am
Florian mispronounced completely, Adding elles and a monarchy, Standard wordplay misused efficiently. Soap of the mind, floss of the horse, Cutting our teeth on useless fleece. Forgetting their needs, people worsen, Fleeing to worlds sincere yet fleeting. Spying, leaving decrying yourself not, Received to cheering regardless, Archean and poor as thoughtforms are.
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