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Abusive Relationship
Written by Tylasmith

This is acting right ............

your words are like swords 

your form fist with your stares 

you press down on my skin 

you leave tattoed imprints 

of pain 

you tear my heart into 

you charged battery against my brain 

you wrap me in your lies 

you tie a rope to my neck and lead me astray 

your an  attention whore

you get inside the brain 

and implant maggots 

that gnaw at my soul 

you presence is like a ghost and lingers on my skin 

you collect my tears and bathe in them 

you charge me guilty in the courtroom 

you manipulate reality 

you drop blood from my heart 

your sorrys are toothfaced 

you push me down into the ground 

you kiss my wrist and pull me into you 

and pat my head 

and tell if I behaved better I wouldn´t be treated this way

you suck on my breast 

suckle down my salty tears and woes 

you crawl in a fetal postion 

when I get up and stand straight and curse your fucking ass out 

you tell me I make the hard times harder 

you toil long hard hours in your room 

laying in the bed 

I pour all my passion in you 

I harvested my hopes in you 

begging you to give me life 

make me feel alive 

all you did was make me feel dead 

I kissed your lips 

and I breathed in carbon dioxide 

I work so damn hard to save this fragile 

story from falling apart 

I wasted my winter break pouring bucket of tears into the phone to get you to understand I love you , But you hurt me 

I built the walls from love sweat and blood 

and tears 

trying so fucking DAMN HARD TO SAVE YOU 

FROM DROWNING ALONE 

so shit I took the rope that you lead me on and tied a break to it 

and sunk deep in the river of pain 

praying you come home and fall into my arms 

and we pull back the seams of the curtain 

and let the love flow in you 

I tried tdamn it 

why the hell wasn´t I good enough 

why did you have to hit me 

and not her 

why did you have to choke me in front everyone  

shit I am sorry that your scared to lose me 

but you already lost me 

your lying next to a ghost 

I fall in asleep in my coffin 

I fall asleep to another lie this was love 

and that you loved me 

I was the butt of the joke in this romance 

a mere jester something to laugh at 

are laughs conjoined and high pitched 

sway and fall in line with each other 

are hands wrapped into each other's part 

I was the actress 

you were the actor 

but what I didn´t know I was the supporting actress ......................

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Abusive Relationship
Written by Tylasmith
This is acting right ............
your words are like swords 
your form fist with your stares 
you press down on my skin 
you leave tattoed imprints 
of pain 
you tear my heart into 
you charged battery against my brain 
you wrap me in your lies 
you tie a rope to my neck and lead me astray 
your an  attention whore
you get inside the brain 
and implant maggots 
that gnaw at my soul 
you presence is like a ghost and lingers on my skin 
you collect my tears and bathe in them 
you charge me guilty in the courtroom 
you manipulate reality 
you drop blood from my heart 
your sorrys are toothfaced 
you push me down into the ground 
you kiss my wrist and pull me into you 
and pat my head 
and tell if I behaved better I wouldn´t be treated this way
you suck on my breast 
suckle down my salty tears and woes 
you crawl in a fetal postion 
when I get up and stand straight and curse your fucking ass out 
you tell me I make the hard times harder 
you toil long hard hours in your room 
laying in the bed 
I pour all my passion in you 
I harvested my hopes in you 
begging you to give me life 
make me feel alive 
all you did was make me feel dead 
I kissed your lips 
and I breathed in carbon dioxide 
I work so damn hard to save this fragile 
story from falling apart 
I wasted my winter break pouring bucket of tears into the phone to get you to understand I love you , But you hurt me 
I built the walls from love sweat and blood 
and tears 
trying so fucking DAMN HARD TO SAVE YOU 
FROM DROWNING ALONE 
so shit I took the rope that you lead me on and tied a break to it 
and sunk deep in the river of pain 

praying you come home and fall into my arms 
and we pull back the seams of the curtain 
and let the love flow in you 
I tried tdamn it 
why the hell wasn´t I good enough 
why did you have to hit me 
and not her 
why did you have to choke me in front everyone  
shit I am sorry that your scared to lose me 
but you already lost me 
your lying next to a ghost 
I fall in asleep in my coffin 
I fall asleep to another lie this was love 
and that you loved me 
I was the butt of the joke in this romance 
a mere jester something to laugh at 
are laughs conjoined and high pitched 
sway and fall in line with each other 
are hands wrapped into each other's part 
I was the actress 
you were the actor 
but what I didn´t know I was the supporting actress ......................
#nonfiction  #romance  #horror  #culture  #stainedskin 
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Written by JimLamb in portal Poetry & Free Verse

When sadness falls . . .

Cry alone,

With the front door shut,

Tears riding your face,

Like raindrops down a clean window.

Cry . . .

Weep profoundly,

Like you’ve lost a lover

Or found a friend …

& your chest hurts, deeply.

Weep.

Sob-shaking,

Quaking, with river-shivers,

Heart-pounding, beat-sounding,

Responding to Heaven’s call.

Sob.

Then wash your face,

With bright cold water,

& start your day a-new.

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Written by JimLamb in portal Poetry & Free Verse
When sadness falls . . .
Cry alone,
With the front door shut,
Tears riding your face,
Like raindrops down a clean window.
Cry . . .

Weep profoundly,
Like you’ve lost a lover
Or found a friend …
& your chest hurts, deeply.
Weep.

Sob-shaking,
Quaking, with river-shivers,
Heart-pounding, beat-sounding,
Responding to Heaven’s call.
Sob.

Then wash your face,
With bright cold water,
& start your day a-new.

#poetry  #culture 
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Written by JustJason40 in portal Blog

ProseStock

I remember awhile back we had a Prose Party. It was a real blast to read and write for. With that in mind I would like to present the idea of ProseStock. Like its Sixties contemporary this thing is all about the music.

In any writing style write a piece describing what it would have been like to experience your favorite band perform at Woodstock. Then tag at least three people you would like to see take part. Also please tag me so I can read along. Hashtag it #prosestock17

To get started I will tag the first batch.

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Written by JustJason40 in portal Blog
ProseStock
I remember awhile back we had a Prose Party. It was a real blast to read and write for. With that in mind I would like to present the idea of ProseStock. Like its Sixties contemporary this thing is all about the music.

In any writing style write a piece describing what it would have been like to experience your favorite band perform at Woodstock. Then tag at least three people you would like to see take part. Also please tag me so I can read along. Hashtag it #prosestock17

To get started I will tag the first batch.
#nonfiction  #news  #culture 
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Written by JustJason40 in portal Poetry & Free Verse

Worst Critic

The imaginary world of the pens power 

This gift for words so often abused by societies misuse 

Storm clouds gathering and no silver lining can be found 

Showers of blood, we have never been so clean

Ravens perched in silent witness forever more

Flickering lights in the attic, fuse blown in the memories 

Betrayed by those now blowing nothing but hot air

Which we use to float above all this fucking unwanted hate

Ancient soul living in the body of youth

If only someone else could feel the pain

Carried on the back of so many forgotten lifetime's 

Exposing the darkness others choose to ignore

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Written by JustJason40 in portal Poetry & Free Verse
Worst Critic
The imaginary world of the pens power 
This gift for words so often abused by societies misuse 
Storm clouds gathering and no silver lining can be found 
Showers of blood, we have never been so clean
Ravens perched in silent witness forever more
Flickering lights in the attic, fuse blown in the memories 
Betrayed by those now blowing nothing but hot air
Which we use to float above all this fucking unwanted hate
Ancient soul living in the body of youth
If only someone else could feel the pain
Carried on the back of so many forgotten lifetime's 
Exposing the darkness others choose to ignore

#nonfiction  #poetry  #philosophy  #spirituality  #culture 
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Written by JimLamb in portal Journal

Memories are like jewels—treasure them

Making memories doesn’t require a trip to Disney or Six Flags. Sometimes it’s just an unscheduled serendipitous stop at a fast food spot on a Friday night. That’s how Sterling, Nana and I ended up at Taco Bell.

I had the Triple-Double Crunchwrap box that comes with a soda and two tacos. Nana had a burrito. Sterling—who’ll turn 9 in September—had three cheesy roll-ups and one of my tacos: his first ever.

Sterling is a special fella: He was born with a heart defect and had to undergo surgery as a baby. Chances are he’ll need one or more surgeries in the future—but you’d never know it by his actions: He a rough-and-ready, rumble-bumble little critter who loves dinosaurs, fish, turtles, and bike-riding.

Sterling and I have spent quite a bit of time together watching some of his favorite TV shows, including “Sponge Bob” and “River Monsters” with Jeremy Wade. Good times. Great times. I mention that to emphasis that you don’t need lots-a money to make memories. My Grandpa Lamb and I used to play checkers as he sat in his rocking chair. As a treat he liked white bread—untoasted—slathered with real butter (at room temperature) and sprinkled thick with sugar. He’d sip hot tea he poured into a saucer to cool. Memories.

My Grandpa Cassanese, who came from Italy, had a big garden with corn and beans and such. His grandkids used to help him pick rocks, pull weeds and harvest his fresh veggies. Memories.

I turned 70 in January, so making memories is more important than ever. I’m hoping my grandkids remember me—remember I loved them, thought of them, prayed for them. It might not be much of a legacy, but it’s what I got. In the meantime, I’m going to follow Sponge Bob’s sage advice: “ Let go of what kills you, and hold on to what keeps you breathing."

Sounds good to me …

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Written by JimLamb in portal Journal
Memories are like jewels—treasure them
Making memories doesn’t require a trip to Disney or Six Flags. Sometimes it’s just an unscheduled serendipitous stop at a fast food spot on a Friday night. That’s how Sterling, Nana and I ended up at Taco Bell.

I had the Triple-Double Crunchwrap box that comes with a soda and two tacos. Nana had a burrito. Sterling—who’ll turn 9 in September—had three cheesy roll-ups and one of my tacos: his first ever.

Sterling is a special fella: He was born with a heart defect and had to undergo surgery as a baby. Chances are he’ll need one or more surgeries in the future—but you’d never know it by his actions: He a rough-and-ready, rumble-bumble little critter who loves dinosaurs, fish, turtles, and bike-riding.

Sterling and I have spent quite a bit of time together watching some of his favorite TV shows, including “Sponge Bob” and “River Monsters” with Jeremy Wade. Good times. Great times. I mention that to emphasis that you don’t need lots-a money to make memories. My Grandpa Lamb and I used to play checkers as he sat in his rocking chair. As a treat he liked white bread—untoasted—slathered with real butter (at room temperature) and sprinkled thick with sugar. He’d sip hot tea he poured into a saucer to cool. Memories.

My Grandpa Cassanese, who came from Italy, had a big garden with corn and beans and such. His grandkids used to help him pick rocks, pull weeds and harvest his fresh veggies. Memories.

I turned 70 in January, so making memories is more important than ever. I’m hoping my grandkids remember me—remember I loved them, thought of them, prayed for them. It might not be much of a legacy, but it’s what I got. In the meantime, I’m going to follow Sponge Bob’s sage advice: “ Let go of what kills you, and hold on to what keeps you breathing."

Sounds good to me …
#nonfiction  #spirituality  #culture 
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Write a poem using the words "remember" and "forget" at least once, with one at the beginning and one near the end.
Written by Vinhies in portal Poetry & Free Verse

Be remember as a

Be a fearless government

Be a fly like a bee

Be a crow with dark black feathers

Be a strong man with huge muscles

Be a weak man with thin like a pen

Be a animal with walking footsteps

Be a crazy to be successful

Be a car fuel with petrol

Be a photography with a focus lens with a snap to shot

Be a camera to shot video with a button

Be what you are to be inspired in your heart

Be a happy of kindness

Be a fear of anger

By vinh Nguyen

Followed me on Kik @vinhies

24/4/2017

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Write a poem using the words "remember" and "forget" at least once, with one at the beginning and one near the end.
Written by Vinhies in portal Poetry & Free Verse
Be remember as a
Be a fearless government
Be a fly like a bee
Be a crow with dark black feathers
Be a strong man with huge muscles
Be a weak man with thin like a pen
Be a animal with walking footsteps
Be a crazy to be successful
Be a car fuel with petrol
Be a photography with a focus lens with a snap to shot
Be a camera to shot video with a button
Be what you are to be inspired in your heart
Be a happy of kindness
Be a fear of anger

By vinh Nguyen
Followed me on Kik @vinhies
24/4/2017

#fiction  #nonfiction  #adventure  #education  #poetry  #philosophy  #film  #spirituality  #news  #culture  #opinion 
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Written by JustJason40 in portal Poetry & Free Verse

Blood Soaked Walls

These walls have memorized the features of your sorrow

And long been soaked in the color of the abusive habits

Mother only cared to change the narrative of her own life

So she just continued ignoring stepdads conversation of clenched fists

Patched up hole in the hallway, that time your head could not bounce off

Wallpaper peeling as a form of tears for all the violence witnessed

And the young boys battles with suicide madness since age ten

Crumbling in protest to all this never ending sadness

Never to be built again

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Written by JustJason40 in portal Poetry & Free Verse
Blood Soaked Walls
These walls have memorized the features of your sorrow
And long been soaked in the color of the abusive habits
Mother only cared to change the narrative of her own life
So she just continued ignoring stepdads conversation of clenched fists

Patched up hole in the hallway, that time your head could not bounce off
Wallpaper peeling as a form of tears for all the violence witnessed
And the young boys battles with suicide madness since age ten
Crumbling in protest to all this never ending sadness
Never to be built again
#nonfiction  #poetry  #culture 
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Written by Vinhies in portal Poetry & Free Verse

The power in you

Fear of fearless to make a strategy of the struggle

Life is a roulette of a game of weakness

Dove from the crow of the spiritual of eye

Master of to the slave made power by everyone

Stories made by others who are non of style

One year is 3 mouths of to 6

Love meaning one heart together made by two

Positive is a fly bird negative is a walking animal

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Written by Vinhies in portal Poetry & Free Verse
The power in you
Fear of fearless to make a strategy of the struggle
Life is a roulette of a game of weakness
Dove from the crow of the spiritual of eye
Master of to the slave made power by everyone
Stories made by others who are non of style
One year is 3 mouths of to 6
Love meaning one heart together made by two
Positive is a fly bird negative is a walking animal

#fiction  #nonfiction  #adventure  #education  #poetry  #philosophy  #spirituality  #culture  #opinion 
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Are you a carpenter? A pole dancer? Do you work in a cubicle? Write a poem inspired by your work experience, good or bad. Lusting over a coworker? Anticipating the next promotion? Afraid of being out in the open? Write it all here!
Written by LaurenMoore

Tiny Little Box

As a child, I had an imagination,

I saw my future, big and bright.

I dreamed of seeing the stars in space,

of all the aliens I would fight.

The possibilities seemed endless,

"I will change the world!" I cried.

I was anxious for dreams to become realities,

until one day, my imagination died.

Every single day is the same now,

day after day, the same highs and lows.

Conventional schedules now rule my existence.

Where did that child go?

In the midst of all the world-changing,

reality knocked on the door.

I lost that little child,

the child that wanted something more.

So today I sit here in my cubicle,

wondering, "Is this all I will ever be?"

My unoriginal thoughts and this tiny little box,

are what have become of me.

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Are you a carpenter? A pole dancer? Do you work in a cubicle? Write a poem inspired by your work experience, good or bad. Lusting over a coworker? Anticipating the next promotion? Afraid of being out in the open? Write it all here!
Written by LaurenMoore
Tiny Little Box
As a child, I had an imagination,
I saw my future, big and bright.
I dreamed of seeing the stars in space,
of all the aliens I would fight.

The possibilities seemed endless,
"I will change the world!" I cried.
I was anxious for dreams to become realities,
until one day, my imagination died.

Every single day is the same now,
day after day, the same highs and lows.
Conventional schedules now rule my existence.
Where did that child go?

In the midst of all the world-changing,
reality knocked on the door.
I lost that little child,
the child that wanted something more.

So today I sit here in my cubicle,
wondering, "Is this all I will ever be?"
My unoriginal thoughts and this tiny little box,
are what have become of me.
#poetry  #culture  #imagination  #child  #workplace 
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Written by apromptaday in portal Poetry & Free Verse

Perfect

Perfect makeup, perfect hair

Eyes that can’t quite meet your stare

Perfect answers on the test

Always got to be the best

Perfect athlete, perfect game

Perfect pills, forgot the name

Days in bed, don’t fall apart

Assignments due, forgot to start

Nervous chatter, you’re a mess

Looking pretty in that dress

Perfect lined up life now ready

Hold those breaking fingers steady

No one wants to see you cry - 

So God, you try and try and try.

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Written by apromptaday in portal Poetry & Free Verse
Perfect
Perfect makeup, perfect hair
Eyes that can’t quite meet your stare
Perfect answers on the test
Always got to be the best
Perfect athlete, perfect game
Perfect pills, forgot the name
Days in bed, don’t fall apart
Assignments due, forgot to start
Nervous chatter, you’re a mess
Looking pretty in that dress
Perfect lined up life now ready
Hold those breaking fingers steady
No one wants to see you cry - 
So God, you try and try and try.

#fiction  #nonfiction  #poetry  #culture  #lyrics 
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