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// The question by itself seems so surreal.

I found friendship to be a woeful might -
to talk together of our wants and fears,
and chatter with each other through the night.
To cry together all the painful tears,
and reminisce of lovers in our years.
The bond we made became our spirit shields,
and hours spent online became our spears.
You tempt my soul with what I long to feel.

To talk of parents lost who gave us life,
of siblings gone despite our sacred fears.
You’re my chosen sister of whom I write,
who gives me butterflies when you come near.
Are we platonic? It seems so unclear.
Maybe I weaken with romantic zeal,
and my spirit struggles when you come near.
You tempt my soul with what I long to feel.

Whatever happens in our darkened night
if our friendship turns even more unclear
our language grows to more than butterflies
the friendship vibrates, rage-filled, nuclear
We’ll cry together all the painful tears
and slay the monsters with our hardened steel
placed with friendship upon our heart-shaped speers
You tempt my soul with what I long to feel.

Will you support me if a mutineer?
The question by itself seems so surreal -
hold my hand through another bitter year?
You tempt my soul with what I long to feel.

28 lines
three stanzas of eight lines followed by a quatrain (or four-line stanza) called an envoy (or envoi)
rhyme scheme: ababbcbC/ababbcbC/ababbcbC/bcbC
final line of each stanza is a refrain
each line is usually comprised of eight or 10 syllables (flexible, but consistent within the poem)

// The question by itself seems so surreal. I found friendship to be a woeful might - to talk together of our wants and fears, and chatter with each other through the night. To cry together all the painful tears, and reminisce of lovers in our years. The bond we made became our spirit shields, and hours spent online became our spears. You tempt my soul with what I long to feel. To talk of parents lost who gave us life, of siblings gone despite our sacred fears. You’re my chosen sister of whom I write, who gives me butterflies when you come near. Are we platonic? It seems so unclear. Maybe I weaken with romantic zeal, and my spirit struggles when you come near. You tempt my soul with what I long to feel. Whatever happens in our darkened night if our friendship turns even more unclear our language grows to more than butterflies the friendship vibrates, rage-filled, nuclear We’ll cry together all the painful tears and slay the monsters with our hardened steel placed with friendship upon our heart-shaped speers You tempt my soul with what I long to feel. Will you support me if a mutineer? The question by itself seems so surreal - hold my hand through another bitter year? You tempt my soul with what I long to feel. 28 lines three stanzas of eight lines followed by a quatrain (or four-line stanza) called an envoy (or envoi) rhyme scheme: ababbcbC/ababbcbC/ababbcbC/bcbC final line of each stanza is a refrain each line is usually comprised of eight or 10 syllables (flexible, but consistent within the poem)

// The question by itself seems so surreal.

#lesbianpoetry #queerpoem #creativewriting #transpoem #transpoet #lovepoem #writing #poetry #lgbtqia #lgbtq #trans #queer #lesbian #poem #denver #denverpoet

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Preview
Ace of Spades A poem of self-acceptance

Self-acceptance is a freedom that feels
Like ripping pages out
Of the end of the book

medium.com/intangibleth...
#QueerPoem #Asexuality #AceOfSpades #AceAro #LGBTQIA

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Here’s a newly written #poem, holy, that captures just a bit of the feeling of #pridemonth

#lgbtqia #queerpoem #queerpoetry #queer #survival #hope #loveislove

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poem with no visible title on 8.5 × 11 white paper. All parts are found images & words glued to the white paper and scanned. The unwritten title is "Wood Morning". In the top right is a small black and white sun symbol beside the first stanza. In the bottom right is a black and white image of a log beside the final stanza. The poem is left aligned and reads: "Early morning / draped // rocking gently / tall masts wagging // in the dim light // waiting // Beautiful / beautiful // dancing, / stiff" Words are same font and size. Words are not spaced or formatted evenly.

poem with no visible title on 8.5 × 11 white paper. All parts are found images & words glued to the white paper and scanned. The unwritten title is "Wood Morning". In the top right is a small black and white sun symbol beside the first stanza. In the bottom right is a black and white image of a log beside the final stanza. The poem is left aligned and reads: "Early morning / draped // rocking gently / tall masts wagging // in the dim light // waiting // Beautiful / beautiful // dancing, / stiff" Words are same font and size. Words are not spaced or formatted evenly.

the final poem (for now)
#gayart #gayartist #queerart #queerartist #gaydrawing #gayartwork #queerdrawing #queerartwork #gaynsfw #queernsfw #art #supportartists #gaypoem #queerpoem #gaypoet #queerpoet #gaypoetry #queerpoetry this poem is called " Wood Morning"

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poem with no title on white background. The words in the poem say: "The thick-pillared / columns // came // carried seeds // splattering, splashing, spraying / puddling, pooling, rushing. // wet with dew" words are same font and size. Words in the poem are not spaced or formatted evenly.

poem with no title on white background. The words in the poem say: "The thick-pillared / columns // came // carried seeds // splattering, splashing, spraying / puddling, pooling, rushing. // wet with dew" words are same font and size. Words in the poem are not spaced or formatted evenly.

tired of my words yet? #gayart #gayartist #queerart #queerartist #gaydrawing #gayartwork #queerdrawing #queerartwork #gaynsfw #queernsfw #art #supportartists poem #gaypoetry #gaypoem #gaypoet #queerpoem #queerpoetry #queerpoet

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poem with no title on white background. The words say: "imagination / ripening in late summer. // I fancied   those woodsmen / I read about in my books // stretched //woods // like   lush / concrete // slipped / through a crevice in // lovers, // workmen // engrossed in their play, / in affectionate embrace, / and their mounts"
Words are same font and size. Words are not spaced or formatted evenly. Hope you enjoyed my poem

poem with no title on white background. The words say: "imagination / ripening in late summer. // I fancied those woodsmen / I read about in my books // stretched //woods // like lush / concrete // slipped / through a crevice in // lovers, // workmen // engrossed in their play, / in affectionate embrace, / and their mounts" Words are same font and size. Words are not spaced or formatted evenly. Hope you enjoyed my poem

more poem #gayart #gayartist #queerart #queerartist #gaydrawing #gayartwork #queerdrawing #queerartwork #gaynsfw #queernsfw #art #supportartists #queerpoem #queerpoetry #queerpoet #gaypoem #gaypoetry #gaypoet more words and words and words

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#gaypoem #gaypoetry #gaypoet #queerpoem #queepoetry #queerpoet
Wow I should've really taken time to edit. . . Oh well

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Denn leuchten einmal die Social Media Lampen zählt nur der äussére Schein

Wir führen konsensuelle Poly 'Beziehungen
Doch sind wir alle verletzt
Denn wir sind ja die Opfer die anderen sind abusiv
Da ist es gut wenn man sich wehrt und Grenzen setzt
#gedicht #poetry #queer #queerpoem #queerpoetry

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Many thanks to @narioli.bsky.social and Thimble Lit Mag for publishing "When Ruth Recounted How" in Volume 7.4 -- this will be the first time I'll see one of my poems in print!

#queerpoem #aapiwriting #newpoet

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Thank you to editors @cilloyd.bsky.social, Jack Westmore, and Luís Costa for publishing my poem "Elegy for Joe" in Vol 2 of the Seaford Review! Thrilled my work is included alongside such incredible poems.

www.seafordreview.com/p/issue-two

#poetry #queerpoem #elegy #newpoet

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And to Nude Bruce Review for the same! nudebrucereview.com/wp-content/u...

#poem #poetry #newpoet #writers #queerpoem #queerpoetry

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eft hand right brain
wrong thoughts on good days
I put my right hand
on your left shoulder
boulder stone just falling apart away
bath-bomb disintegration
wet and achy immolation prayers
in left and right, tight ventricular spaces
that everything will just be okay
when nothing dreams
with nothing's absence
nothing we wanted seems
it's taking something wanting.
...

Something we wanted,
something I can't give to you,
it's not ever been nor will be my place,
I'd spite my face and hands 
to see it through, if it meant something,
but it will give nothing to you,
I would swallow this world of lights
to see you rest in the shadow of my peace,
a slice of deep heaven, fractions of bliss,
a piece, I'd hope to be something for you,
even when I feel I'm nothing to me.

eft hand right brain wrong thoughts on good days I put my right hand on your left shoulder boulder stone just falling apart away bath-bomb disintegration wet and achy immolation prayers in left and right, tight ventricular spaces that everything will just be okay when nothing dreams with nothing's absence nothing we wanted seems it's taking something wanting. ... Something we wanted, something I can't give to you, it's not ever been nor will be my place, I'd spite my face and hands to see it through, if it meant something, but it will give nothing to you, I would swallow this world of lights to see you rest in the shadow of my peace, a slice of deep heaven, fractions of bliss, a piece, I'd hope to be something for you, even when I feel I'm nothing to me.

"Something and Nothing" by @post-himbo.bsky.social

#poetry #poem #queerpoem #queerpoetry #poetrysky

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I'm not "big man"
I'm not ya "boy"
I'm not my first and middle names
Though you gave them
You'd say 'honourifically'
I know they don't belong to me,
That person they reference
has long since been MIA,
Fought gender wars and done got KIA,
Your daughter at home
has long since waited,
She's longed
She's anticipated,
Her soul is no more emaciated
than yours is now,
Because death has taken yours,
Where life has saved her,
In the dying of a boy,
Ya "boy",
"Big man"
Who had that first and middle name.

I'm not "big man" I'm not ya "boy" I'm not my first and middle names Though you gave them You'd say 'honourifically' I know they don't belong to me, That person they reference has long since been MIA, Fought gender wars and done got KIA, Your daughter at home has long since waited, She's longed She's anticipated, Her soul is no more emaciated than yours is now, Because death has taken yours, Where life has saved her, In the dying of a boy, Ya "boy", "Big man" Who had that first and middle name.

"First and Middle Name" by @post-himbo.bsky.social

#poetry #poem #queerpoem #queerpoetry #poetrysky

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'The Scumrag' literary newspaper January 2025, a newspaper front cover pictured with the words 'EXTRA! EXTRA!' superimposed over the top in bold black

'The Scumrag' literary newspaper January 2025, a newspaper front cover pictured with the words 'EXTRA! EXTRA!' superimposed over the top in bold black

The Scumrag Issue 2 literary newspaper Jan 2025
Poetry
Adam Crawford
Jen Dunford-Roskos
Jim Gibson
Bradford Middleton
Aqeel Parvez
Vaughn Ross
Molly Glinski
Die Booth
Koushik Banerjea
Klipschutz
Leslie A Mendoza
Jackson Dasvies
Paul Whelan
Laura Cooney

Art phototography comic strip
Livor Mortis Zine
Cody Sexton
Jessie Lynn McMains
John Burgess

Columns articles reviews
Dan Flore III
Jessie Lynn McMains
Kate Garrett

The Scumrag Issue 2 literary newspaper Jan 2025 Poetry Adam Crawford Jen Dunford-Roskos Jim Gibson Bradford Middleton Aqeel Parvez Vaughn Ross Molly Glinski Die Booth Koushik Banerjea Klipschutz Leslie A Mendoza Jackson Dasvies Paul Whelan Laura Cooney Art phototography comic strip Livor Mortis Zine Cody Sexton Jessie Lynn McMains John Burgess Columns articles reviews Dan Flore III Jessie Lynn McMains Kate Garrett

📰The Scumrag Issue 2 🗞️ is out now from the excellent Scumbag Press and is available to buy via linktr.ee/scumbagpress

8 page A5 recycled newspaper for only £2.50, full of DIY punk lit goodness (inc. my first ever published poem!)

#punk #punkpoetry #poetry #zine #zinesky #bsnm #queer #queerpoem

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Seeing a thousand days in the night of space,
that infinite platonic 'cave of shadows' place,
the songbird Sol rests light on my face,
that bosomly warmth with the subtle taste
of spring; grassy, heady, passed in a sweat,
summer's colours grace sugarfingers yet,
so we have what good gold autumn's let,
when winter swallows what it's met.
and the chains that bind,
you'll find they're of a daisy braid,
soft silk stocks and locks that'll never fade,
time tied minds, Wrist ties of triple plied plaid,
the best, most damning decision
I've ever made.

In a place where Bastion Black acres overhead,
like a high-rise high-lit high-top,
its illegible carpentry almost dead
and its end will see it overtaken,
there's no place for primordial aliens 
in a world in which history's already gone.
it's easy enough to worry
about ever being enough of her,
I'm sorry I was never what I said,
maybe unspoken hopes aren't expected,
and I can't make myself be everything yet.

Seeing a thousand days in the night of space, that infinite platonic 'cave of shadows' place, the songbird Sol rests light on my face, that bosomly warmth with the subtle taste of spring; grassy, heady, passed in a sweat, summer's colours grace sugarfingers yet, so we have what good gold autumn's let, when winter swallows what it's met. and the chains that bind, you'll find they're of a daisy braid, soft silk stocks and locks that'll never fade, time tied minds, Wrist ties of triple plied plaid, the best, most damning decision I've ever made. In a place where Bastion Black acres overhead, like a high-rise high-lit high-top, its illegible carpentry almost dead and its end will see it overtaken, there's no place for primordial aliens in a world in which history's already gone. it's easy enough to worry about ever being enough of her, I'm sorry I was never what I said, maybe unspoken hopes aren't expected, and I can't make myself be everything yet.

"Disordered" by Post-himbo

#poetry #poem #queerpoem #queerpoetry #poetrysky

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Ice wind very cherry lush
burning that midnight oil,
12:03am on Friday morning,
March 15th, in your beautiful house,
so haunted by misery
but which glows with new eye shine,
I find in every second
I watch the screen light illuminate
your tortoise eyes
and your wry little smile,
a part of me I'd buried before memory,
that rose from a cradle grave of ash,
rises like fire up the creepers of a tree,
with elegant fragility,
I have cemented those moments to my soul
in the chambers of the queen
in the missives from her lover,
I only feel that tracheal ache at 12:29
of warm sorrow bitter sweetnesses,
because I came to life 
that day you kissed me.

Ice wind very cherry lush burning that midnight oil, 12:03am on Friday morning, March 15th, in your beautiful house, so haunted by misery but which glows with new eye shine, I find in every second I watch the screen light illuminate your tortoise eyes and your wry little smile, a part of me I'd buried before memory, that rose from a cradle grave of ash, rises like fire up the creepers of a tree, with elegant fragility, I have cemented those moments to my soul in the chambers of the queen in the missives from her lover, I only feel that tracheal ache at 12:29 of warm sorrow bitter sweetnesses, because I came to life that day you kissed me.

"Buried Before Memory / Tortoise Eyes" by Post-himbo

#poetry #poem #queerpoem #queerpoetry #poetrysky

3 1 0 0
As the day turns to night
I see your storm is near,
so I'll hold you tight 
‘til your wind hits my ear.

Baby just let it rain
‘til the dam groans and creaks,
‘til it can't hold the pain
and it rolls down your cheeks.

As the dark grows less strong
worried words turn to quakes,
that it might not be long
‘til the sun reawakes.

Though we may surrender
this whole night to sorrow,
it's okay, remember
we’ll always have tomorrow.

As the day turns to night I see your storm is near, so I'll hold you tight ‘til your wind hits my ear. Baby just let it rain ‘til the dam groans and creaks, ‘til it can't hold the pain and it rolls down your cheeks. As the dark grows less strong worried words turn to quakes, that it might not be long ‘til the sun reawakes. Though we may surrender this whole night to sorrow, it's okay, remember we’ll always have tomorrow.

"A Storm in the Dark" by Nova

#poetry #poem #queerpoem #queerpoetry #poetrysky

5 1 0 0
Hear me, fisher kingdom children,
Something's troubling our waters,
Daughters drifting out of space
and I'm just running out of time,
Though it seemingly feels infinite,
Infinitely shallow, infinitely short,
Infinitely hollow, whilst my body holds,
I'm here just doing Planck's downstairs,
Working points to no apparent end, 
I'm not gonna pretend I have much left,
Nothing remains of me to bleed,
This screed is just coagulation,
The subtle serifs calcified,
Burning, ashen, petrified,
A shard of glass, lost to the tide,
Smoothed where once it's blade resided,
My fisher kingdom's fate decided.

Hear me, fisher kingdom children, Something's troubling our waters, Daughters drifting out of space and I'm just running out of time, Though it seemingly feels infinite, Infinitely shallow, infinitely short, Infinitely hollow, whilst my body holds, I'm here just doing Planck's downstairs, Working points to no apparent end, I'm not gonna pretend I have much left, Nothing remains of me to bleed, This screed is just coagulation, The subtle serifs calcified, Burning, ashen, petrified, A shard of glass, lost to the tide, Smoothed where once it's blade resided, My fisher kingdom's fate decided.

"Infinite" by Post-himbo

#poetry #poem #queerpoem #queerpoetry #poetrysky

6 2 1 0
I put myself into bottles,
and then walk these cobbled streets,
that snake and slither through my past,
dead eyed and cold blooded,
and when stone makes way for sand,
I cast them into the sea of time,
hoping for the motion to find them,
for the ocean to take them far away
to a place where they won't be found,
to a less forsaken beach than mine,
but they always wash up at my feet,
the ground beneath them turned to ash.

Smashed and remade 
as a crown of broken glass,
invisible to all but me,
the strain is only mine to see,
and as it carves into my face
I mask all of my pain.

So I'll bury my grief beneath a smile,
while my sorrow peeks from behind my teeth,
while my misery lurks under a pile of leaves,
freshly fallen from a bonsai tree.

I put myself into bottles, and then walk these cobbled streets, that snake and slither through my past, dead eyed and cold blooded, and when stone makes way for sand, I cast them into the sea of time, hoping for the motion to find them, for the ocean to take them far away to a place where they won't be found, to a less forsaken beach than mine, but they always wash up at my feet, the ground beneath them turned to ash. Smashed and remade as a crown of broken glass, invisible to all but me, the strain is only mine to see, and as it carves into my face I mask all of my pain. So I'll bury my grief beneath a smile, while my sorrow peeks from behind my teeth, while my misery lurks under a pile of leaves, freshly fallen from a bonsai tree.

"Broken Glass" by Nova

#poetry #poem #queerpoem #queerpoetry #poetrysky

8 1 0 0
That pulsing, ebbing, throbbing, edging,
Rushing blood, my body's letting
Loose, those breaking waves are getting 
Real, I still can fucking feel them, 
Creeping, no release can steal them,
Heel their rising, or threat release,
Fret bowstrings, songs won't silently cease
Their malleable tonality,
God that shoegaze painwhore fuck mentality
Never goes away,
The tantric breat totality, 
Soft indie hospitality,
I'm welcomed in every circle 
Never led astray,
Like a glove to your hand,
If the shoe fits beat me to death with it
And I'll never say I could regret it,
Take that hand and stop my breath with it,
Give me a reason to never forget it.

That pulsing, ebbing, throbbing, edging, Rushing blood, my body's letting Loose, those breaking waves are getting Real, I still can fucking feel them, Creeping, no release can steal them, Heel their rising, or threat release, Fret bowstrings, songs won't silently cease Their malleable tonality, God that shoegaze painwhore fuck mentality Never goes away, The tantric breat totality, Soft indie hospitality, I'm welcomed in every circle Never led astray, Like a glove to your hand, If the shoe fits beat me to death with it And I'll never say I could regret it, Take that hand and stop my breath with it, Give me a reason to never forget it.

"Shoegaze and Waves" by Post-himbo

#poetry #poem #queerpoem #queerpoetry #poetrysky

2 1 0 0
In a flat choice between your pride and my life
Too many would choose your beaming 
Over me breathing 
(And I sometimes feel you'd say the same)
And I wanna gnaw and needle to the question
What would give you such a suggestion of blame?
There's no words left that will bring me shame
(From you),
And there's nothing left for you to do,
I've already done irreversible 'damage'
As if the pain of false birth 
was something to manage 
like a schedule,
"First month breast tissue next month hope"
I'm like a new entity, 
I've gathered my own amenities, 
Just pretend to be pleased,
Please,
It would be that much better than your enmity,
Uni, college degree, A levels through GCSE,
No amount was enough for me to be 
(Whatever the fuck you wanted from me
And here I thought it was to be "happy"),
Because only my truth could account for me
And only my body could set me free,
I'd rather die than be who I used to be.

In a flat choice between your pride and my life Too many would choose your beaming Over me breathing (And I sometimes feel you'd say the same) And I wanna gnaw and needle to the question What would give you such a suggestion of blame? There's no words left that will bring me shame (From you), And there's nothing left for you to do, I've already done irreversible 'damage' As if the pain of false birth was something to manage like a schedule, "First month breast tissue next month hope" I'm like a new entity, I've gathered my own amenities, Just pretend to be pleased, Please, It would be that much better than your enmity, Uni, college degree, A levels through GCSE, No amount was enough for me to be (Whatever the fuck you wanted from me And here I thought it was to be "happy"), Because only my truth could account for me And only my body could set me free, I'd rather die than be who I used to be.

"False Birth" by Post-himbo

#poetry #poem #queerpoem #queerpoetry #poetrysky

7 1 0 0
Today she made me
a big pot of stew,
so she could remind me 
of good times with you,
with carrots, diced beef
and sourdough bread,
food made for relief
and for hugging the dead.

Today she made me a big pot of stew, so she could remind me of good times with you, with carrots, diced beef and sourdough bread, food made for relief and for hugging the dead.

"Beef Stew" by Nova

#poetry #poem #queerpoem #queerpoetry #poetrysky

3 1 0 0
I'm sorry I didn't reach out
and I'm sorry I never called,
I'm sorry if I made you doubt
that I cared about you at all,
you’re more than just the silhouette
that my memories now contain,
that day cemented my regret
and it welds me to my pain.

The day on which I lost you,
a day that I’ll remember,
like your hearty stove top stew
and building me my Fender,
you were fighting to get air,
soon to be lost to the drift,
I spoke so you knew I was there,
then you gave me one last gift.

Owed no words and yet you gave three
through walls of mucoused scars,
and you gave them to tell me
just how proud of me you are,
and despite how much it hurt you
to talk to me on the phone,
I heard you say “I love you”
before your final voyage home.

I don’t know if we’ll meet again,
I can’t see behind the veil,
but I know I’ll surely know when
it’s my own time to set sail,
until the boat comes for me too
I’ll keep your face in my mind,
and I’ll always wish to hear you
call me your sunshine one more time.

I'm sorry I didn't reach out and I'm sorry I never called, I'm sorry if I made you doubt that I cared about you at all, you’re more than just the silhouette that my memories now contain, that day cemented my regret and it welds me to my pain. The day on which I lost you, a day that I’ll remember, like your hearty stove top stew and building me my Fender, you were fighting to get air, soon to be lost to the drift, I spoke so you knew I was there, then you gave me one last gift. Owed no words and yet you gave three through walls of mucoused scars, and you gave them to tell me just how proud of me you are, and despite how much it hurt you to talk to me on the phone, I heard you say “I love you” before your final voyage home. I don’t know if we’ll meet again, I can’t see behind the veil, but I know I’ll surely know when it’s my own time to set sail, until the boat comes for me too I’ll keep your face in my mind, and I’ll always wish to hear you call me your sunshine one more time.

"To My Father" by Nova

#poetry #poem #queerpoem #queerpoetry #poetrysky

2 1 0 0
I'd like to think they'd recatch their tongues 
in the absence of my company,
But probably not,
What does it matter but for a nattered word bandied and battered by the wind?
A smattering of infinitesimal things, 
echoed back memories, 
hollowed and thinned,
that no less re-sound in empty rooms,
Re-bound every limb-like grasping syllable 
to the dead boy that seems nigh unkillable,
I don't know 
what holds them back from saying it,
Embraced the shambling corpse
once I went about slaying it,
But I'm retreading old ground. 
I'd like to think someone was there 
To catch their tongues
In the absence of my company,
But probably not.

I'd like to think they'd recatch their tongues in the absence of my company, But probably not, What does it matter but for a nattered word bandied and battered by the wind? A smattering of infinitesimal things, echoed back memories, hollowed and thinned, that no less re-sound in empty rooms, Re-bound every limb-like grasping syllable to the dead boy that seems nigh unkillable, I don't know what holds them back from saying it, Embraced the shambling corpse once I went about slaying it, But I'm retreading old ground. I'd like to think someone was there To catch their tongues In the absence of my company, But probably not.

"Re-probably" by Post-himbo

#poetry #poem #queerpoem #queerpoetry #poetrysky

4 3 0 0
I often wonder if it'll really change,
or if things will remain all frozen still,
a bubble of a certain time and place,
both before and after things 'went wrong',
I'm still the person 'I used to be'
but somehow I've become corrupt,
I've forfeit whoever they claimed to know,
and yet somehow I 'look the same',
despite, despite and despite still,
they'll give me spite for what I did,
as though I passed some final door,
the final girl that's never more,
I'm never gonna change or grow,
except in their ressentiment,
I feel the cold of a social chill,
the grave I've blessed is so much warmer,
the hole I've got myself into,
the heart of a 6ft deep decision,
the one that separates them from me,
I didn't choose to die that day,
September 5th of my 21st,
I'm parched of feeling any one,
and lost in between every thing,
I made myself what I wanted,
so why aren't you happy?

I often wonder if it'll really change, or if things will remain all frozen still, a bubble of a certain time and place, both before and after things 'went wrong', I'm still the person 'I used to be' but somehow I've become corrupt, I've forfeit whoever they claimed to know, and yet somehow I 'look the same', despite, despite and despite still, they'll give me spite for what I did, as though I passed some final door, the final girl that's never more, I'm never gonna change or grow, except in their ressentiment, I feel the cold of a social chill, the grave I've blessed is so much warmer, the hole I've got myself into, the heart of a 6ft deep decision, the one that separates them from me, I didn't choose to die that day, September 5th of my 21st, I'm parched of feeling any one, and lost in between every thing, I made myself what I wanted, so why aren't you happy?

"The Day I Died" by Post-himbo

#poetry #poem #queerpoem #queerpoetry #poetrysky

3 2 0 0
Dip your toes in
to the pools of your mind,
relax, give in
the water’s fine,
sink into that place
where consciousness sleeps,
where egos soon die
and the universe speaks.

Embody nobody,
abandon yourself,
in here you’re not you
and you’re not someone else,
submerge in the void
encompass it all,
there’s nothing to fight
so just let yourself fall.

Dip your toes in to the pools of your mind, relax, give in the water’s fine, sink into that place where consciousness sleeps, where egos soon die and the universe speaks. Embody nobody, abandon yourself, in here you’re not you and you’re not someone else, submerge in the void encompass it all, there’s nothing to fight so just let yourself fall.

"The Descent" by Nova

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Thus spoke the word of euphoria, 
and how the sky came to cradle her vision, 
oh empty vessel, such static indecision,
The wind hums through her heart's incisions 
And gives unto her cellular divisions,
She's growing,
Supple joins below the skin she's showing
tread blood and it's contents betwixt her,
She wasn't born, nothing could have fixed her
Yet, here she is, here's our darling, our baby,
Cornered? Perhaps. Stymied? Maybe,
But her place in the big blue,
Deep hued refractory place 
Has yet to fully shine it's light on her face.

Thus spoke the word of euphoria, and how the sky came to cradle her vision, oh empty vessel, such static indecision, The wind hums through her heart's incisions And gives unto her cellular divisions, She's growing, Supple joins below the skin she's showing tread blood and it's contents betwixt her, She wasn't born, nothing could have fixed her Yet, here she is, here's our darling, our baby, Cornered? Perhaps. Stymied? Maybe, But her place in the big blue, Deep hued refractory place Has yet to fully shine it's light on her face.

"Spoken Words" by Post-himbo

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I'm not the first to walk this street,
I notice as I start to tread
Past empty homes of scarred concrete.

As rain and asphalt come to meet
I think, as water turns to red;
I'm not the first to walk this street.

It moves so slowly past my feet,
A gentle stream of molten led
Past empty homes of scarred concrete.

My mouth can taste the sickly sweet
mementos of fond words once said,
I'm not the first to walk this street.

Here I find naught but naught to greet,
More of the same lies up ahead
Past empty homes of scarred concrete.

This travelled path starts to repeat,
The past becomes the now instead,
I'm not the first to walk this street
Past empty homes of scarred concrete.

I'm not the first to walk this street, I notice as I start to tread Past empty homes of scarred concrete. As rain and asphalt come to meet I think, as water turns to red; I'm not the first to walk this street. It moves so slowly past my feet, A gentle stream of molten led Past empty homes of scarred concrete. My mouth can taste the sickly sweet mementos of fond words once said, I'm not the first to walk this street. Here I find naught but naught to greet, More of the same lies up ahead Past empty homes of scarred concrete. This travelled path starts to repeat, The past becomes the now instead, I'm not the first to walk this street Past empty homes of scarred concrete.

"Path of Scarred Concrete"

by Nova

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In death
you're mourned by all
who found peace in your smile,
know we now struggle to keep you
lonely.

In death you're mourned by all who found peace in your smile, know we now struggle to keep you lonely.

"Remembrance" by Nova

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Still things are moving on
an incline plane that's so far gone
Ok, still things may yet go away,
Still, things are good,
Doing things I never thought I could,
Not waiting, 
And still these things don't need stating,
Since I moved still things with grace
The movements of such things in space
Lays still upon my body and face,
Still things are moving,
Change be surprising sometimes,
Things still do be like that,
Though don't do me like that,
I'm still all of these things,
Despite all of these things still,
Still things are moving on-

Still things are moving on an incline plane that's so far gone Ok, still things may yet go away, Still, things are good, Doing things I never thought I could, Not waiting, And still these things don't need stating, Since I moved still things with grace The movements of such things in space Lays still upon my body and face, Still things are moving, Change be surprising sometimes, Things still do be like that, Though don't do me like that, I'm still all of these things, Despite all of these things still, Still things are moving on-

"Still things are Moving" by Post-himbo

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