Funkadelic - the Shoutouts

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Recently, there have been people who have been outstandingly kind -- either to me or the community, and I wish to highlight them here. 

imaginative-lioness -- Okay, maybe not so recent, but she deserves a shoutout! Her Literature Roadtrips are so carefully put together, and the feedback she gives is always so kind and helpful. I thank her so much for all the time and dedication she has put forth in her Roadtrips. She also has a group LiteratureRoadtrip and you should all check it out!
Soldiercigarette between his lips,
tar-induced lungs struggling to inflate –
a soldier
       (a man)
struggling to make sense
of a war
where men are only equal
when they're dead.
Adversarystrong summer beauty with courage and zest,
discovered a lion with only one eye.
it noticed the darkness she perilously possessed,
and buried his claws deep within her chest.
extracting his daggers and supressing his cry,
he stood over in silence and watched her slowly die.


anobrain -- Ella is such a kind and lovely person. I'd like to say that we've become good friends, and her kindness never ceases to amaze me. She recently read my recent poem, a collaboration piece with marlboroblacks, and uploaded it to soundcloud. You can read it here. soundcloud.com/ellathepirate/m… Thank you so much, Ella! 
today is a new day andi am growing up out of my 
bones and out of this skin and
this skin is growing roots down into 
the core, the core of me
and myself and this skin
- oh, this skin 
this skin is thicker than you will ever believe.
if you told me that you had sunflowers
sprouting from the corners of your
eyes then i'd have no choice but 
to believe you. you are a child of the sun,
you have wheat growing under your 
shoulder blades, you have been flecked
with a ginger paintbrush dipped in solar
rays, you are soft-lipped and you,
you are warm
i might be sunburnt but this organ is over
seventy kilometres deep and i can't feel
the touch of your uv arms underneath all
this wadding,
i don't want solace dripped over me like 
tanning oil, not if i'm like this,
not if i'm different to how i was before
seasons change
desolateyou are a broken house with smashed windows
and ivy growing between your fingers
you are fragile and with every
creaking footstep on the stairs you pray so 
hard that you have let the right one in
there will be people,
people with minds so blissfully ignorant that
they walk right through you and do not 
see the splintered furniture residing within your
body, you are invisible to them,
and sometimes
you wonder if you are even there
but then there are other people - 
people worth staying standing for,
people who will walk in and gently run their 
fingers along the parts of yourself that
you forgot were even there,
people who will explore your anatomy like
it is an undiscovered world. 
let them find the stale cup of water you left
beneath your bed 5 months ago,
let them find the brittle treasures you hide
in your fireplace, and how you masochistically
adore the way that you could just
catch on fire at any
second
but do not let them break you,
not ever again.


insomniaplague - Who has always been so kind and sweet to me since we first met. She has a killer, awesome collection of poetry that everyone should check out, just saying. You won't be disappointed. 

you should be home by nowlast tuesday the house took my hand & said,
it's more of a hurricane than a fire
since he broke in & burned
my curtains
my floors
my bridges
my self
but sometimes I see her with a lighter
& she finishes what he didn't do
(I think she's afraid
of settling in,
being quiet)
but last tuesday I realized that she kept the lights on
to frighten away the bridges & the people
so no one will come inside
& smash the teacups, steal the pipes
because since he burnt her beds out
no one lives there anymore
all of your lives have been addictsmy cat
has turned
my front porch
into a graveyard
as if to say:
this is what we need
but tonight
she tried to lick my claws
back to hands
& I said to her:
"I do not have 9 lives
to spend on the bathroom floor
with 13-hour insomnia
can't we just kill the mockingbirds
pull the concrete
out of our throats
& get this dying
over with
already"
but
she's got 8 lives down
& doesn't answer questions twice


chromeantennae - Ricky is so nice to everyone. I don't know anyone who is as sweet as he is, and who takes the time to really get to know people and let them know him.

Mature Content

SerpentSerpent
 
Cut your grass before you’re bitten.


MattVoscinar - Matt, thank you so much for the first place award for your contest. I'm completely honored, and so excited to be published in your new literature magazine! I'll tell everyone I know about it; I promise. (Psst, everyone should totally check out his new literary magazine called Scraps off the Welcome Mat).
On Being Baptized in the Coffee Barn Parking LotYesterday, George pressed his tan, calloused hands
on each side of my jaw, as if trying
to press his fingertips against the herniated
cartilage and ruined joints, and feverishly muttered
a prayer in tongues. Between his
chanting, he begged God to cure me
of my ailments and accept me into his kingdom.
Today, several Vicodin later,
migraine still pulsing,
I can't help but wonder if I didn't
believe hard enough.
EpitaphStarry eyed explorer found another flag to drop
In the form of loose pills to conquer her America.
One straight to the head and a tight grasp towards her pocket-
An archetype for innocence with diamond eye sockets.
No longer interested in soft words or sonnets,
Only cares about the war she's lost and when she'll find her coffin.
Will any words be etched in the granite to whisper her legacy?
A legend in her own terms utilizing Athena's jealousy.
It's sad to see the day when the sky falls like this:
Clouds retreat to avoid the crash but comets will not miss.
In the crater we will find a body if we're lucky,
Label her a misfit and another helpless junkie.
But I can see better, past black and white shades
Into the gray area in which her mind lays,
And I don't think I can save her, but I hope that I'm led to
That little lonely girl just begging to be rescued
You don't have to go through this yourself,
All you've got to do is ask for help.
This fairy's broken wings don't flap like they used


Aerode - He recently featured me in his journal for +WriterWatch (it can be found here... aerode.deviantart.com/journal/…). I'm so honored by that. He is such a beautiful person -- always asking everyone how their day was and everything. I miss you, man, and I hope you will come back soon, but take it easy. I hope you'll feel better soon
.
Dear LostDear Lost,
Hello. I've likely not met you in reality before,  but
I can assure you that we have more than a  few
things in common. Maybe you like to sleep with  the
window open. Maybe you like to carry a wallet  in
your side pocket instead of the back. Or  maybe
you walk down the stairs with your feet poised  to
either side instead of straight, rigid motions.  There's
more, I'm sure of it.
But we both are our own person. It's plausible to  say
there's much more which keeps us distinct than  loop
us together. And I'm fine with that. Maybe you  single-
knot your shoelaces while I double-knot mine, or  you
find a cup of tea much more enjoyable when  you're
alone, with a good book in hand. Or maybe you  think
the stars are just wispy balls of gas, whereas I find  a
bubble of solace whenever I see the hearty  light.
I think I can trust you with a secret. My grandmother
passed away a while back, and I can't remember e

minus 2 min.2:00
she struggles against the tears grappling on her face. she was wrecked, and felt as if each piece of her was torn to pieces and taped back together poorly like a child's art project. she felt insignificant like one, too.
1:57
a choking sob wrestles against air for escape from her throat. the air wins. she nearly suffocates as the sob retreats.
1:51
her family was downstairs doing nothing. at least, nothing which would matter to her, anyway. they were unaware that the family tapestry that held them together was about to be unraveled.
1:44
her friend texts her but the vibration fails to capture her attention. she, herself, is already caught by her own misery. she's fighting so valiantly against succumbing. another text goes amiss six seconds later.
1:38
her friend is mildly annoyed, and decides to text someone else. her friend has always had low patience.
1:30
she pulls herself up and her teeth pound in rhythm with her temples. her heart thumps at a lazy beat, as if floati



Here are some poems from various other amazingly kind and talented people. Please, consider checking them out! 

<da:thumb id="430986914"/><da:thumb id="432623787"/><da:thumb id="432813696"/> harmoniccure the vortex of the stars that
blow away the atmosphere
we've become accustomed to breathing,
trapped by quasars and atoms cornered
by indecision and quantum
break
you have found the phasing point,
and fallen through the sun before these fields
could follow us through.
and shatter; we are the royalty
of Castile, painted red and black
for screaming in this colored inquisition
how the pot is overflowing with our sins,
and how your faded jeans
have sundered all the
hellcat-founded ancillaries,
proving that stellar resonance
has imprinted on our vinyl souls,
and this is us, impersonated
by the permanence of every heart attack,
spelled out by the fracture of rolling dice
and molded plasticine.
Danathey say
what you do defines who you are
she is taking an estrogen pill
she is shaving her legs
she is keeping her hair short and her patience long
she is helping her friend put an injection into his leg because he is scared of needles
she is drinking a Corona at two lesbians' housewarming party
and learning how to flirt again
to the nineteen-year-old girl who killed herselfdear Madison,
they say there was a blanket of delicate snow
at your service, flurries falling from the sky like old friends,
and winter has never felt so cold in Philadelphia;
even the willows weeped candlelight from the highest
branches— on friday Rittenhouse Square was breathtaking,
the sun setting on an amber day— there was a radiance
about you, a spark that burned a little too bright
and I know that you tried all you could,
but sometimes you can't help but choke on the flames
you fell from the roof gently, like the tired petal of a flower
compelled by the promise of gravity and a place
to sleep in the soil down below,
but the irony of a rose is that it is most beautiful once dead;
this is not to say that you are beautiful or not,
though that's all people seem to remember;
your existence brought the gift of faith to those of us
who need it most— you left gifts for your loved, and that was the
most beautiful thing we could ever hope to do
I will not end this sentenc
blowing my teeth out the back of my skullI.
we are hynagogic wasteland words, unraveling
corpses clutching at bruised throats - white gasoline
II.
and when your skin heals, i hope i've permeated your bones
( i will never be rid of you ).
<da:thumb id="430685082"/><da:thumb id="421984512"/> vermillion novemberand she told me that seabirds wither in the winter;
maybe that's why i find myself
self-decaying at night,
windows wide open in this vermillion november
because i always end up
flying away,
anyway.
(i don't think the seabirds are the only ones, i replied, but she was too busy soaking up my sadness to care.)
PurpleDon't love me, I bruise easily. love, TedDear Toyota Cruise owner,
first of all, don't sue me. I'm too afraid to pass you by in the parking structure because I think you'll punch me. I'm sorry for the dent in your car, I was going to explain in person but I'm scared. so, hi. I'm Ted, and I ruined your car door.
thing is, I have a horrible habit to reason and deflect from the actual point, hence the strike-outs, I need to keep taking my meds with me at all times and I get super anxious when the bottle cap doesn't open, oh dear god, it's open. thank god. thank god.
the point. yes. I'm a terrible driver after midnight. I close my eyes and my body thinks better of this so it doesn't stop me. I am not a rash driver, sir. I, however, am a rash person to myself. or at least that's what my therapist says. or said, I haven’t exactly seen him in two weeks.
but I suppose I am a rash driver after midnight. I seem to forget a lot of things. like, last night I found my meds in my socks and I think After Midnight Me was fucking with m
in pursuit of idolswhimsy struck me, songbird
in your dally-dawnish murmurings
as I saw two faces in the mirror:
one austere and angular,
twisted taut on the screws
of every isotropic body
given or received
the other loose as leopards
frayed out and unconcerned
with any obfuscation, grinning
heartily at the ghost of a chance
to see your inner-workings
and so the laugh was thunder, riot
ruin
escape
in every ounce, an Excelsior's hum
for that is where the entropy began
snowing calciumagony
is the door
to
everything
that
matters
tallest man on earthhe rolls in
mint leaves
and cigarette
smoke,
standing up
to waltz out
the back
door
and out to
the moonlit
streets of
our urban
nightmare
before i have
a chance to
whisper, i miss
you -
         don't leave.
Oh Lonesome MeI wanna be a rock star:
another Saturday night
and if french fries
were fat free,
well, somethin' stupid--
seven spanish angels
in this bottle
are all I want.
So if night blindness
& winterlovers were
the bare necessities,
who wouldn't wanna be me?
Baby, let it be me,
you're my better half--
the lady is a tramp
walking off the buzz
from Texas. A moment
like this,
your sweetest goodbye,
midnight rider, and you
sound like Louis Burdett.
You belong with me
but your love alone
is not enough.
divinationwe’re too far from your god
in the way we’re too far from our roots,
walking cliff sides of orgasm-horizons
and pleading that we know no better.
I don’t know if I believe.
skyscrapers do not lift prayers
when man learns how patience warrants
waste a marble-stone too late…
and I don’t want to wait:
soon 3rd becomes 40th through
waiting and waiting when those
who oppose die 41st.
(I don't know if I want to believe).
Bashful SkiesThere will be nights you stay awake
to see, to count, to make wishes on
the stars...and they won't be there.
The city lights will be too bright,
the moon will take center stage for a tragic soliloquy,
storm clouds will be thick and angry at you 
for not paying attention. They will get in your way.
There will be mornings you get up early
to see, to paint, to be inspired by
the sunrise...and he will disappoint you
by wearing faded colors that wash him out,
by being so late you have to go to work 
with unwashed hair and yesterday's wrinkled blouse,
by deciding to wear no colors at all
but shrouding himself in last night's storm clouds instead.
At these times, take a deep breath,
think about all those moments you've had it rough,
and remember this:
even the sky wakes up feeling ugly...
but the sky still tries to put its best foot forward
when the time comes.
<da:thumb id="426634934"/>


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momo-madness's avatar
thank you so much for the shoutout! :heart::heart: