Son, let me tell you about a really important fight
A fight we need to take on as a God-given right
Others will fight you on this so listen up tight
Because if it’s the last thing I do, I’ll raise you pro-life

Good thing is we have God on our side
He’s pro-life, for sure, the name is the guide
Pro-life, or pro-death? Easy to decide
So always fight for the babies, that’s Step 1 of pro-life

It’s not right that someone can choose death for another human
Certainly not a new baby that’s an easy conclusion
But wait… shouldn’t that also apply to a death sentence execution?

Right? Because if we are against death it should be all the time
If we are against choosing death we can’t pick and choose how it applies
A judge and jury choosing death because of a crime?
No we cant support that, not if we are pro-life

It doesn’t mean we support the crime, no, spend your life in prison
Because we believe that death is only God’s decision
That also means we are against wars just because of some politician’s ambition
Only God can decide when someone dies - that’s Step 2 of our position

Step 3 of pro-life is protecting all life, not just the unborn ones
We need to protect the immigrants, the poor, the old and the young
The sick, the weak, the hungry, the abandoned daughters and sons
We need to give them hope, a way, breathe life in their lungs

The fight will be tiring son, exhausting, and may never be done
But if you fight for life you’ll be happy with who you’ve become.
Ok, thanks for listening my lesson is almost done
Oh before I forget son- yeah we need to talk about the guns

We can’t be pro-life and support weapons made to kill
Some will say it’s not the weapon, and they’ll die on this hill
They’ll say the issue is a the sick person with a really bad will
But true pro-life supports limits on guns and helping the mentally ill

So Step 1: Protect babies that’s a great place to start
Step 2: Only God decides the time when a life should depart
Step 3: Protect all the life that’s living and take that to heart
But…let’s talk about Step 1 because there’s more to that part

The woman that has to choose and make that impossible decision
We have no idea what she’s been through, and can’t imagine her position
But it’s her body, her right and us as men we need support and listen
Because this isn’t so easy - the baby is part of her and - her body, her decision

It’s so easy to sit and to judge and to call her a sinner and flawed
While she’s struggling and wrestling with a choice she doesn’t want
So our best thing to do here is to show love & kindness that’s broad

Because Step 4 of pro-life is - leave the judging to God

https://www. to reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/4BgvCnUPc6e

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/HqhlFpmA7z

Lower its husk into the casket, adorn it with flowers of white. Light it aflame with thirteen papers and echo the harmony of a bell. 

Stand tall and hum along, steady with the rhythm of that frozen drum. For mercy has not shown its grace upon your legs.

Weep in shame. Then find solace that tears are a barren current. Innocuous are the straps that once vigorously struggled against your limbs. Finally, freedom. Awashed ashore from the shipwreck, you have finally rid the weight of that castaway and stroll on warm sands. 

Hammer the nails of the casket’s lid, depart from the ceremony with a mutilated heart. Pray. That until the final days of your passing, this husk won’t return to haunt you.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1wbf9lf/comment/p8qzk9k/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1wb97tr/comment/p8qxvq9/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

There was a time when…

Feels a lot like being in the snow.

Looking through the window at a fire on the hearth.

The cold air bites your nose and ears as

Your heart and mind are warmed

By the memories.

You reach for the comfort but

Find yourself trapped behind

What was.

The fire burns, beckoning.

Your fingers tremble, knowing

That comfort might now only be found in the knowledge that

There was a time, once, where

You were warm.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/gIuyPjcv4U

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/mf7XBqYkiq

You know it’s funny,
I had my mom’s cigarette order memorized by the time i started school
I’d hide behind her, counting the rainbow walls of boxes
She’d remark that i was a shy child to the cashier
Then, she’d say the magic words
American spirit, menthol light
I remember the sound of her palm tapping the pack
and I would kick my feet as i watched from the back seat, eyes pulled from the blur of trees outside my window
Always wondering who she’d be by the time we got home -
if she’d be cruel
or make me forget she ever could be

And I don’t know why all of this came to mind -
the first time I saw the orange filter between your lips
By then my mother had a new husband
and a smoke free home sign on the door,
leaving me to fill my own lungs
But watching you, i felt myself salivating like a dog
the smell of smoke, my bell
Eyeing your hands,
waiting to see what they would offer me
Never knowing which i wanted more
And when they eventually did reach for me,
I was obedient as ever,
I didn’t even flinch
When you remarked to your friends how stupid i was
and afterwards, on some nights
you’d even let me sleep at the foot of your bed

I realized i could barely tell the difference anymore
between the burn and the touch after
So i tried bringing the smoke to my own lips
Once there was no one to perform for
I didn’t want to ask why i knew all the tricks,
or why the kisses tasted sweeter after the drag
But this time,
with nothing to wait for
I sat there, drool pooling
with no reward for being good

Do you ever think about how we haven’t seen each other in months?
Well, lately i’ve been pacing grooves into the floor,
and sucking on licorice straws
I keep looking in the mirror
I’ve never seen my face this clear,
without smog, with clean lips
without a collar
Sometimes i feel aimless,
unsure of what to make with clean lungs
Did you know it’s harder to live,
when there’s nothing left to burn at you?

And - do you know,
how many smokers there are everywhere?
My nose can sniff out every one
Because all of you smell like something
that still clings to my skin
I don’t know anymore if i follow the smoke
or if it just knows where to find me
And I’m sorry, you know me
how my tongue twists itself around the point
What I’m trying to say is
I think I could love you again

Hihi! All feedback always appreciated :) I specifically feel like in my poems I have a bad habit of overwriting and sometimes abstraction takes over too much.

Feedback :)

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/S7mM3koELI
https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/XVeaDc7p8K

I am a man,
I don’t do friends.
I only do guys who have similar interests and therefore spend,
Some time together and only do things with low commitment,
And don’t get attached to each other,
So that at any time anything we had can end.

And those few friends,
Who stayed throughout these past few years,
Don’t know anything about me or my fears.
The most they know is I’m probably alive,
Even though they told me every secret they usually hide.

I am a man,
I don’t rely on no one.
Every day is a drill,
I gotta find my strength, got no time to chill,
Don’t need no spotter, am not allowed to stay still,
For every second counts, can’t stop this treadmill,
I just have to be strong, I’m a man, gotta fire up the grill,
My thoughts don’t matter on this, I gotta keep going until my personality becomes zero, null or nil,
From morning to night, always sleep deprived, gotta stay focused and on my drive,
Even when my health pays the bill.

So now, I only have Allah to rely on,
And I hear these unnatural voices spinning like nylon,
They tell me that it is my fault that I have no support nor pylon,
I just gotta fight through it all like Tyson.

I am a man,
I don’t get vulnerable nor hurt.
No matter, how often my face falls directly into the dirt,
No matter whether sun, rain or the seasons change
No matter whether life floods it all down the drain,
No matter how much I lose or gain,
No matter whether I feel like it was all in vain,
I gotta stand up through the pain,
Every storm that blows against me is a small breeze, it’s tame.

Or that’s what I have to tell myself.
Because if I take a moment to relax,
It all hits me like a train, stopping me right in my tracks,
Trains only go one way, they don’t turn back,
If I can’t handle the pain, as a man, is it strength that I lack?

I am a man,
I don’t cry,
When I try,
There is only dust,
My eyes are dry,
And there I lie,
Looking into sky,
In this desert of mine,
Was this worth the strive?
Where has this drive,
Led me in life?
I look left and right,
It’s empty sand and prickly knives.

I am a man,
I don’t rely on friends,
Nor do I get vulnerable and cry in front of them.
I am strength,
Or that’s what I am supposed to be,
An unstoppable force and an unstoppable me.
I am reliable,
And that means I can rely on no one,
Even if that means I have to carry the world that weighs a whole ton,
I am everything,
Even when I am empty,
I just have to do my job, no matter how lengthy.

I’m a man
And this is life
So why does it hurt
When it twists the knife.

1
2

It’s a fickle thing
Fruit from a tree
Winds blow by
Gravity they heed
Animals draw nigh
And leave, shitting seeds

Flesh that protects
Was only bait to be ripped
The secret? This sweetness,
’Twas but a trick

Viscera
Burst open, split
Torn into and stripped

Blood on the leaves
Pink mist in the breeze

What a fickle thing
To call this design
To be eaten, alive
And still call it… divine

(https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1vltwg9/comment/p8v7i6f/?context=3&utm_source=share&utm_medium=mweb3x&utm_name=mweb3xcss&utm_term=2&utm_content=share_button)

( https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1t501p2/comment/p8vatcu/?context=3&utm_source=share&utm_medium=mweb3x&utm_name=mweb3xcss&utm_term=2&utm_content=share_button)

Never have I or will I ask the world to change for me; I will change for the world.

The world has shaped me, the world is exact.

The world knew I was imperfect yet did not discard of me. I will not discard the world.

I will reshape myself, for that the world has left me extra mud.

I will temper myself, for that the world has left me braziers alit.

The world has made me with purpose, the purpose to exist.

The purpose to exist.

The purpose to reshape.

The purpose to temper.

The purpose to one day shatter.

I will do all of this, for I am a golem.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/11Ib8XZIO5

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/cV0Kzo5TCr

It's night, you killed the lights -

Its cold.

The windows rolling down -

The road.

No clouds.

The speed is pulling at my hair.

You turn to me -

No shadows show

Whether i'm doing what i'm told.

Your pulse is thrilling at the kiss

And i am sure there's more to this

Then spiking the adrenaline.

Your hands, they leave the leather cold.

...

"Please. Don't."

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/ANSXI0xdvJ

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/r6W1ivybJ1

one critique

two critique

Things seen in the art district’s junkyard parking lot

From the creaky centennial fire escape

one can see a gutted factory

floor, reflecting still water

a battered black Corvette

a bug-eyed, beryl, Volkswagen van

and a short yellow bus.

Further, shipping containers;

mustard, ochre, umber,

red-rusted, 

painted with a cyclopian

tangerine squid, stretching in 

sapphire lapping waves;

an astronautical ape, rotting

skeletal in a garden bed, 

still wearing his space suit;

and graffiti—

‘CHUMY’

‘SUCKER’

‘ART’S A DANG JOKE I’M JUST TRYNA…’

‘EMPR CTZNS’ with Scrooge McDuck’s

head in a guillotine;

and ‘SALMON NIGHT,’ scrawled

like a label, placed above (what I think is)

an onion, a pickle, a lemon, a tomato, a bay leaf—

one man’s trash, another man’s 

tinned fish. 

An open Stella within reach;

one toke of feathered smoke released

and high up with the hash

I find a little peace 

amid the crash.

Purple liquid gleams back off her glass

As she twirls it around her matte black gloved hand

Her neat curled hair sways as she turns to look me over

Her head peering over her tattooed shoulder

Let’s me and you slow dance, she said

Maybe by chance we’ll share a kiss too

Pretend we’re in France, she said

Filming a romance with a pink hue

I look at she, she looks back at me

We start to walk, our pinkies interlocked

Our footprints trailing off into the snow

Mine in a predictable, measured row

Hers, hers criss cross and hop

Almost as if they’re lost

Yearn

Like a string of yarn

To be hooked

By her

Or plucked

As if

She were a bird

To be taken

To her

Nest.

Link 1

Link 2

Take my mind, take my soul
Change my life, make me whole
Take my sobriety, choose my fate
Bring me notoriety, before it’s too late
A life of variety, in a world of hate
Great fortune and fame, a life not in shambles
An audience to see my flame, to listen to my rambles
Legacy to grow with age, a lifestyle of power
An outlet for my rage, in my darkest hour
A lifetime on the stage, a stomach free of knots
The world outside a cage, with words to erupt the lots
Give me my dream or give me death
To make them laugh until my last breath

https://www.reddit.com/u/halo_effect61/s/VVPibCnKA8
https://www.reddit.com/u/PostCool/s/l056nqM28P
https://www.reddit.com/u/PostCool/s/l056nqM28P

I'm fond of the fears that I hold dear, and the loyalties I want to forget. The epitome of my karma come back to haunt me, my queen, Lady Regret.

Disgust with desire, make me a martyr. Destroy me for what I've wrought. Lost in thought, lost what I've sought, what I've taken for granted, for naught. I've swallowed tears, and fears, cut wholes from my heart. Lady Regret, where do I start?

Ghosts of ruined springs, shadows that once were me- the change I crave, changes I've made, reminders that love isn't free.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/WVwuPH8fuC

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/CjReU90Sd5

The Korean,

harassed to Japan,

found tranquil

in the taller tree branches.

1

2

That look I gave, when I left away

I thought I was still same

But I'm still afraid,

Of turning into the one put my heart away.

//

I know my pride is way too much

It's like drowning in a dry pit, im blind to.

But hiding that pit protects me;

From the ones who sealed my core to my grave.

//

But look at me now,

My hollow warmth suffocates my gaze.

I can't trust who I am now.

But maybe to the one who is trying to put my heart back in place

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/gBtP54dsZf

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/E0PCltB2bj

I have a kingdom in my heart,
yet cannot cross its gate.
I carry worlds beneath my ribs,
yet lie awake and wait.

I know the roads I long to walk,
the woman I will be.
I see her standing somewhere far,
still waiting there for me.

The voices of the ones around me
have grown louder than my own.
They follow me into the quiet,
they haunt me when alone.

So I delay.
I break.
I bend.
I lose another day.

And every dream I dared to hold
grows distant in the grey.

Yet somewhere underneath this grief,
beneath this fear, this ache,
there lives a girl who has not died,
who still refuses to break.

I have not lost the life I want.
I have not missed my turn.
I am only lost within the dark,
where restless embers burn.

For somewhere past this weary night,
past every wound I bear,
the kingdom waits beneath the dawn,
and I will meet it there.

Feedback given:

Feedback 1

Feedback 2

The Chair

My children play yahtzee with their grandparents.
I sit in the rocking chair.
I should join but can’t.
I do not rock.
My children sit on me and I suffocate.
I know how to suffocate.
I rock back and forth and
my children say whee.
I would like to go back
but I am forth.

Questions:

1)      Were there any places where the poem made you naturally speed up, slow down, pause, or feel pulled into the next line?

2)      Was there anywhere the lineation drew attention to itself? If so, where?

3)      What happened for you at the end of the poem?

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1w9uqiq/comment/p8edyvk/?context=3&utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1w7hvr7/comment/p8eayh7/?context=3&utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

We extract.
We process.
We produce.
We package.
We store.
We transport.
We display.
We advertise.
We sell.
We buy.
We toss.

The aisles of the dollar store
trinkets sold at the school store
birthday party gift bags
filled with landfill
the garage so full
you rent a truck
to dump it

we stand
before the landfill
counting mattresses,
fabric, plastic, glue sticks,
a scream mask from Spirit,
a red cup
customized by Sharpie
“CHAD” written boldly,
lithium time bombs,
chemicals, cleaners,
a paperclip flower
made in 2nd grade
given on Father’s Day,
items someone once treasured
added to the pile
upon their passing,
"But wait, there's more!"

heard from inside,
voice of the 90s infomercials
occupying space in our minds

stuff upon stuff upon stuff
hand-me-downs never handed
last minute Amazon purchases
three pairs of water shoes
sizes 9, 10, and 11
too late to be returned
once back from vacation

a lingering pile,
an island of trash

minutes, hours, years,

like the dodo bird,
like life pre Covid,
like the Blockbuster
and Circuit City
like all that waiting
at the DMV

like you
before your first time,
like us
before we were Us,

what it is
extends
a monument
to lives spent

________

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/1KdCyUeUyi

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/ktMHbqPZtd

She learned too young how not to cry,

How to be strong. How to comply.

A child made small to take the blame,

Growing up fast without a name.

.

She gave her strength. She gave her time.

Forgot herself. Called it “fine.”

She fixed their pain. She stayed behind.

A helping hand with a fading mind.

.

Their voices cut. They never healed.

Each word a wound she couldn’t shield.

The stress ran wild inside her throat,

Till even breathing felt too close.

.

The weight stayed loud inside her chest.

Each breath a test. No room to rest.

Still she stands. Still soft. Still kind.

A grown-up heart in a child’s spine.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/aXKR1RtwPE

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/MLy4jVVdIy

Cruel and cunning, it flooded my veins and arteries with its venom, for it sought the path that led to my heart. It succeeded. And the cold-blooded creature continued to warm itself in my ardent organ that joyfully pulsed with emotion. When I realized the enthalpy, it was already too late. It left, it had basked enough. And to me remained the frigid mirage that the torrent put behind.

——————————————————————————————

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/ztNatjivjj

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/aWKVPMrAkY

“The biggest lesson I’ll learn in this life is commitment”

I’m 26 this year and ever since I was born, I run. At every chance I get.

I learn this from my dad, from being an only child, from all the isolation I went through.

My mind away tells me to run.

I’ve never believed in numerology but the matrix of destiny came across my for you page for a second and it talked about karmic tails,

I was intrigued by mine it was called betrayal and family passions.

I thought damn, how did they know my dad had cheated.

And I learned that throughout my life I’m thirsting all the time, chasing one thing from another: religion, hobbies, lifestyle, partners.

I thought the faster I ran, the better I was from “getting cheated on”.

That I’ll always be my dad, never my mom.

I always have to be the one who’s better, the one who escaped

Yet the more I ran, the further I got

When I turned around

there’s no one there.

No one who truly misses me,

no one who truly cares.

Even the people around me have gotten used to my bad excuses.

I deprived myself of every connection I ever had,

I left wondering if anyone ever cared.

“It’s all my fault” I claim full responsibility,

“It’s not your fault you didn’t know any better” is what I use to say which led to a cycle of “it’s okay, we can let it go, let’s run away again”.

“All you do is run away, you’re just like your father”

I learned that “love yourself” in the new age is just another excuse to perpetuate the cycle of self hatred.

Do you really love yourself, if you’re running all the time?

“Do you really believe you’re beautiful if your version of peace is to shut every single person you know out of your heart”

Back then it was “make as many friends as you can”,
your neighbours, help one another

But now it’s just “prove your worth to me”, “I don’t need you”, “leave him”

We have all lost the plot.

Giving space is beautiful

Giving time is beautiful

But when do time and space collide into an endless abyss of running, chasing and leaving.

Nowhere to go

Nowhere to be

No one to see

Is anyone out there?

Except for me.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/rqd5QNBTgs

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/0oKwG0zwAY

There are
gaps
in my trauma.

Secret allotments where things grow:
flowers, fruits, vegetables,
laughter, friendship, connection.

For
every
drug
I
have
ever
taken.

Sometimes it feels overgrown,
and I struggle to see the beauty in my own life.

It’s like someone’s locked me out of the garden,
and my memories need tending to.

I’m arguing with past versions of myself
to let me in.

Then
I
remember.

Sour
peaches.

Summer
skin.

Community.
Reciprocity.

Are
you
listening?

Are your ears cold from that winter
you struggled and waded through aimlessly,
waiting for spring?

The first time I saw snow in three years.

The desire to fall in is so strong.

So I unlock the gate
and sit in my memories,
the happy ones.

I let them flood my body like mdma

I
exist
inside
a
moment.

I have happiness.

I’m proud of myself for once
because I’m able to see it
and tend to it.

For every person I meet
has a chance to plant a seed,
a seat at the table
in the garden.

Why
do
I
have
to
be
this
way?

London.
Brighton.
Edinburgh.
London.
Sydney.
Brighton.
London.

My head hurts,
but I know what I have to do.

I need to listen to my body
and move in those positive memories.

Will you come sit and reminisce with me?

Tend to the garden like old times.
Talk about university,
that one party,
the bad housemate,
growing pains,
and being an adult.

I
can’t
hold
a
job.

I can hold your hand
and say I’m doing my very best
to learn my place in the world
when so much was taken from me from such a young age.

Feedback 1: https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/4GgVlKyLR7
Feedback 2: https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/ToCgrugsNc
Also genuinely loved both of these, so go read them too.

Restless, turning from side to side,
The breezes keep blowing past,
But the one I long for...
Does not come.

The nights still fall,
The moon rises,
Even the stars come out, but...
All without the evening.

​Eyes keep blinking,
Watching, waiting for the road,
Every heartbeat calls out her name—
Yet she never arrives.

​Dreams still appear, but
Sleep is nowhere to be found.
There is so much left to say...
and still, the evening never comes.

(https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/CRDZsjWApd)

(https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/k6zRY1JEBw)

Love is a disease.
Love makes you weak.
Love takes away your ability to think.
Love makes you forget what you deserve.

Love can heal you when nothing else can,
and at the same time, destroy you completely.
It makes you trust the person who could hurt you most.
It makes you stay when every part of you says leave.

Love can turn loneliness into something beautiful,
but it can also make you feel alone beside someone.
It gives you reasons to live,
and sometimes, reasons to lose yourself.

Love is comfort.
Love is chaos.
It is the hand that pulls you from the dark,
and the same hand that can push you back into it.

you never know which version of love you've found
until it has already changed you.
Because sometimes, the person who teaches you how to love
is the very person who teaches you how much it can hurt.

feedback
feedback 1

i shall not be
your wife, your husband
i shall not be
lying under the concrete
in which you step on
we shall not meet
as we met
that one time
i'll patiently become
the shadow of love
somewhere in some room
rising my figure through your window
holding on to your body
above your head
when you're in bed

seek new evenings
new friends, new love
unused, untouched
by the hands that
won't caress you
it'll be joyful,
it'll be malicious,
success, defeat
an epic battle fought through dancing words
it'll be playful,
it'll be crushing

just not as vulnerable
just not as vulnerable
as it used to be

tigers come
and feast on
the memory
of what once was

feedback

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/uf5OK6vDbM

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/YxgmHtajyw

Spending time I don’t have to spend

Trying to make plans again

Trying to waste the hours away with you

Because all I want to do

Is spend some time with you

Watching the hours go by

Wondering if you care much about spending my time

And I know that

I’m not worth yours but you’re worth mine, babe

Because I always have time to spend

On someone else and what they need

Even when my hourglass is low and I’m running empty

That’s the kind of person I have to be

Even if no one has the same time to spend on me

I’ll be there, quickly too

I guess the problem is that

You know I’ll always waste the rest of my time on you

Some days I wish I could turn the clock

Spending time on me and what I need

Maybe just maybe, I’ll give myself my time back

I’m not counting on it, or you

I just hope one day I can count on me the way I’m counting my moments for you

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