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rebecca suzanne Sep 2015
There's a first time for everything, but, baby, I want you to be the last.
I've been choking on different ways to explain this to you.
The right words are stuck to the roof of my mouth and I can never seem to fit them through my teeth.
You are so beautiful, too.
I miss you most.
I won't let you win at battleship-
and I probably won't ever understand football or hockey-
But I will watch it with you anyways.
I will hold your hand even when our hands are sweaty.
I will still make fun of you for smoking menthol cigarettes.
I promise to always eat the tomatoes for you when we go out to eat.
I will drive around with you until we are out of gas,
But I won't stop telling you to wear your seatbelt.
(even if the gas station is RIGHT THERE)
I can't risk it.
I can't risk you.
You've been present, even when I wasn't.
You've made me comfortable in your arms.
your home.
And even my own skin.
you're cigarettes don't always match your lighters anymore,
But you're the Cory to my Topanga.
And I'm the luckiest girl in the world, because you are my world.
I appreciate you,
I adore you,
I miss you,
And I, unconditionally, love you.
(I wrote about you in February when you're cigarettes matched your lighters and I never thought we would be what we are today. I love you, I love you, I love you.)
Elijah Sep 2016
Take me back to the 90’s -
where we cared less, but loved more.
here, we’re glorified for our past -
where we went out and played Real Games, OUTSIDE.
before the time flew by,
before the new millennium crept in while we were sleeping;
altering the basis of what tender, love, and care really was.

We grew up with very little household rules.
because we understood the consequences that would ensue had we not followed the ones that were already in place.
society had rules. and still do, to this day.
we grew up embellished in love -
no matter the race,
no matter straight, or gay.
we grew up knowing, never to judge.

TV actually taught us things.
cartoons where we’d learn math, or English in the songs we sang.
late nights risking it all because we were supposed to be in be,
but “All That” came on and all that mattered was that we watch the latest episode.

We didn’t have twitter.
We didn’t have facebook, who was mark?
Myspace wasn’t even in its beginning stages.
snapchat didn't even have a place to start.
instead, we might’ve had AIM.
or, we might’ve borrowed our parents’ usernames.

We never knew what X-box was,
playstation 1 was just starting to blossom.
Nintendo was our heart,
sad now it’s like - fossils.
and computer games ruled/
of course, after - our homework was done;
or maybe we used computer games to help with our homework.
numbers munchers, word munchers, math blaster;
teachers lasted. because we loved them,
they knew what we wanted without even asking.
they made things happen...
school was more than boring lectures,
recess was a thing.
like, 30 to 40 minutes of “play time”, to give rest to our brains...

90’s movies:
- “The Hackers”
-”Disclosure”
-”Enemy Of State.” was life.
-”Space Jam.” ...
OH, SPACE JAM. how badly I wanted to be Like Mike!
everyday, trying to brush up on my skills -
sadly, they’d never take flight.
but, as a 90’s kid, imagination was like 90 percent of our life.
“Dream it, Wish it, Do it.”
Be, IT!

Be, It!
hide and seek, how I never wanted to.
had to make yourselves practically invisible for ten minutes max;
or just long enough to catch a break and make a dash for base.
TAG! you’re it.
if you couldn't quite make it.
catch me if you can...
Ahh, games we played as kids.
make you wanna be there again.

90’s. Friends.
Savage like Ben,
But Strong Riders.
Every boy wanted a girl like Topanga. she was strong, and a rider.
we was learning life through the lifestyle of “boy meets world.”
Just so like, we could be ready -
when the boy meets world,
and then boy meets girl,
and girl have kid,
and the kid grows up -
And in the world he lives...

In the world he lives...

This world,
the current one.
the one the hosts our once great nation.
the one that is smoke and mirrors.
the one that was meant to be a great creation.
yet somehow, somewhere, we’ve all changed the meaning of our existence to chastising and hating, each other.

Hating each other.
got me constantly questioning, “Where Is The Love?”
freedom is not free.
the cost is actually more expensive now.
bodies fall on average, about every 3 months.
Whites **** blacks , but blacks also, **** us.
and All Lives Matter -
I'm not sure why they only chant that black ones do,
if they only say black lives matter when a white man shoots...

Take me back to the 90’s.
where things weren't as bad.
Take me back to the 90’s.
where I was young and,
less sad.

Take me back to the 90’s;
we’re having fun meant having fun.
take me back to the 90’s;
where disagreeing with someone, didn't mean you grab a gun.

Take me back to the 90’s;
the perfect era to raise kids in...
Take me back to the 90’s;
at least there,
the world SEEMED innocent.

-Lij
Holden Caulfield
2. That movie that I saw last weekend that I thought you would like
3. The mix tapes you made me. I still listen to them in my car
4. The way I dance and wondering if you would like it if you saw me.
5. The Kooks and how you hate them.
6. Hospice
7. Late nights sleeping alone and knowing you're awake, but oh so silent.
8. Wondering if you're thinking about me too
9. The poems you wrote me. Your handwriting is classy.
10. The picture of Hilary Duff on my desk reminding me to be good
11. My bed and how you used to be there.
12. My friends and how you used to be one of them
13. Uptown
14. My ticklish spots that no longer get touched
15. My cat... he misses you.
16. Speaking Spanish and how you used to correct it, and sometimes be impressed
17. Wearing bows in my hair. How you used to love them.
18. The clothes I bought at that thrift store yesterday. I wonder if you'd like them.
19. Mehermahermahermaherm
20. Listening to Bright Eyes.
21. Listening to the sound of loneliness.
22. Coffee and how you say "Americano" with a roll of the tongue.
23. The last bit in my tea and how it's "too sweet to swallow."
24. Sitting close on the couch. Your hand stroking mine. Sneaking a kiss on the cheek.
25. Missing busses and missing you.
26. How I used to cheer you up.
27. The stars and sheep and roses.
28. Seth Rogan
29. Meditating and how I can't do it with you constantly clogging up my brain.
30. Laughing
31. I never learned to salsa dance with you and your brutally honest hips.
32. Carrot Creme Brulee
33. Hand dance duets
34. The empty spaces between my fingers
35. Your grey corduroy pants are my favorite.
36. When you called me your coriño.
37. How you would have scoffed at me copying and pasting an "ñ".
38. Attempting to show you music you would like.
39. Failing at showing you music you like.
40. Sending you hearts.
41. Arching my back.
42. Eating ice cream and how I'm better when it's here.
43. How I'm better when you're here.
44. How Cory is better when Topanga is there.
45. Italian Night Clubs
46. You and Me and Everyone We Know
47. Tyronne Street
48. Ice Land
49. Getting lost.
50. Drunken parties and thrashing fists.
51. Second chances
52. Being half of something.
53. Wearing your cardigan
54. Long embraces and never wanting to move.
55. Doing my homework with you sitting next to me. Not letting you read over my shoulder
56. Teaching you about the body.
57. Your smile, and how you give a little chuckle every time I see it.
58. How we used to laugh about nothing.
59. Really bad cookies.
60. Butter face.
61. Jealousy
62. Hating modernized Shakespeare
63. Confessions
64. Embarrassed faces buried in pillows
65. Incredulous about me hating Elvis
66. Miles ******* Davis
67. Singing softly to the radio
68. Playing the piano. Singing for you when you're not around.
69. Wondering if you're reading this right now.
70. Hoping that you've gotten this far down the list.
71. Be the Pitta to my Vata
72. Kate Upton has saggy *****.
73. I just want to make spaghetti with you.
74. How you hate ellipsis
75. Wondering whether or not I spelled that correctly because I know you would judge.
77. Leaving tearful voice-mails
78. John Lennon and Yoko Ono's Rolling Stone cover
79. Looking at art, wishing I was Monet.
80. My sundress on the floor.
81. Not seeing that new movie in theaters (the one that won all those Oscars) because I only want to see it with you.
82. Getting angry when Kacie B. didn't get the rose on the Bachelor and knowing you're angry too because Courtney ***** as a person.
83. I'm an ugly crier.
84. Hitting bread pans
85. Your green plaid jacket
86. Vulgarity
87. Insecurity
88. "Back and forth. Forever."
89. How that one song reminds you of me and I still don't know why.
90. How you deserve the best
91. It makes me sad that I'm at number 91 and you're still nowhere to be found.
92. Going to ballet class with the anticipation of seeing you afterward.
93. You asking me how ballet was, whether you were interested or not.
94. whispers "Let me be your hero."
95. Never seeing your fur vest.
96. Holding hands when we shouldn't have.
97. Velvet leggings
98. The last wonder of the world.
99. I fear that I will forget what your face looks like.
100. Reaching one-hundred with so much more to say.
Alternative title: 100 Things I Have to Give Up If I Want to Live
Cori MacNaughton Sep 2015
The winding drive along the sea
I took so many times
to steal away from anarchy
to pacify my mind

The city sirens come undone
before the ocean spray
then down the hill to U.S. 1
and thus begins the day

The Pier receding to the South
Will Rogers to the North
Topanga is the turn we seek
as we are going forth

The starkness of the hills and pines
the rivulet below
as Westward the Pacific shines
beneath the morning glow

The twists and turns I still recall
though roads are better now
no unpaved sections left at all
nor farmland for a cow

No Austin Mini Union Jack
the landmarks too have changed
and I so lost since coming back
I almost feel deranged

The Health Food Store with hitching post
the horses canter past
the countryside I love the most
and visit now at last

But on Mulholland Highway there
surprises lie in wait
there’s razor wire on the fence
and horses at the gate

As giant dishes aiming deep
into a mountain wall
so Orwell’s promise do we keep
applying it to all

But I remember still the day
the hillside turned to fire
the way to turn had burned away
the sky was black with ire

And in a wide spot in the road
in reverence did we stand
a fox, a hare, my dog and I
all watched the burning land

Can nothing make us feel as small
as fire pure and cruel?
to know it as a cunning foe -
to know we’re naught but fuel

But through the smoke a fire truck
led us down on Kanan Dume
toward the cleaner seaward air
away from certain doom

And all at once the trial was o'er
for we had reached the sea
as once Carrillo had before
and now my dog and me

We pass the house of river stone
Moonshadow’s Restaurant
and even Tidepool Gallery
for years my favorite haunt

And back to Santa Monica
on PCH we drive
admiring still the beauty
yet more thankful we’re alive

The winding drive along the sea
I took so many times
to steal away from anarchy
to pacify my mind
I thought I had posted this before, but apparently not: I am posting it now as a native Californian, for all those affected by the terrible wildfires this year and every year, with love, prayer and hopes for the safety of all.

I wrote this poem in January 2001, but it refers to a trip back to California that I took with my then-husband in 1994, and to the two separate wildfires I drove into unknowingly in the late 1970s; the first in Topanga Canyon, and the second in Malibu.  It is the second fire that is described in the poem, and although I traveled with my dog frequently, she wasn't actually with me that day - but the rabbit and fox really were.
Simone Gabrielli Sep 2019
Lovelorn and sore she drifts to shore
Singing hymns from the sirens lure
Crying distant deep in the surf
What was all that sailing for?

Gods of the sea, sleeping serpentine
Neptune rising with his blue fantasy,
Casting hope into sleeping canyon nights
Days spent in pale dawn’s love bright light

The ocean breeze softly sings
Moody eyes safe beneath the sheets
All hungry sailors look to the sea
For a siren to come and sing them to sleep
Aaron LaLux Dec 2017
We’re riding,
feels more like flying,
because this car,
feels more like a spaceship,

used to ride in a hybrid with eyes red,
now I ride a Tesla clean as a whistle,
used to use the pen as a sword,
now I use my laptop as a missile,

sorry I’m not sorry if I missed you,
didn’t intentionally diss you,
just been focused zoning on my poems,
keeping it going with my mind on the mission,

listen,

this is the future,
most are out to lunch better catch up,
this isn’t a **** it sandwich this is blessing dressing,
not an invalid salad but an important portion so pay attention when addressing us,

fck,
trying not to cuss too much,
but what the fck,
sometimes too much isn’t even enough,

probably heard that before,
probably didn’t know that was my line,
see when over a million people have read your words,
your words get rewritten time after time,

rewritten but not bitten see there’s a difference,
and yeah I know that the difference is a line and that line’s fine,
and it’s crossed when the message is lost and the spirit leaves the body,
but it’s not when I hear the words repeated in songs and I know those words are mine,

because when I know other people also know albeit sublimely,

I guess that’s what happens when your work outgrows you,
when you hear words you wrote in songs and quotes,
and it gives you that potent mix of anxiety and adrenaline,
which leads you to speeding by throttling the clutch like a throat,

heading north on America’s most west coast road,
going 100 MPH with no MPG up the PCH,
no MPG because the ride is all electric,
like we are running in this lifelong race,

racin’ with Jaden we ride out to our Topanga hideout,
got a whole 10 acre mountain top up there,
where we go to get ghost when we need to get away from foolish folks,
from their flashing lights Hellish cellphones and all their blank faced phony stares,

riding,
feels more like flying,
because this car,
feels more like a spaceship…

∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆
Mike Patten Jul 2016
She was hiding in the garden and met a cabbage named Fred,
She likes to give names to things she thinks are cool,
and call them friends.
Than she took me to her toy box,
"this is where everything goes",
this is the way, so stay and play,
and I know you'll feel at home.
You be Cory, I'll be Topanga,
you be Pete, I'm Mary jane,
"I will be here, you don't have to, always smoke the pain away".
It's just me against myself again,
but she doesn't see my flaws,
"if you bottle your emotions, we'll just drink them through a straw".
Paul Morgana Apr 2014
The sixties changed our countries ways,
Gone was the time of June Cleaver days.

Vietnam and protesting, divorce and unrest.
Family's unraveling, that era's not the best.

Out around LA, communes were in vogue,
Welcoming all, the beggar, thief and rogue.

The one commune, around Topanga town,
Was home to a family, that brought the world down.

Charles Manson, and his motley crew,
Were plotting and planning horrible things to do.

The drinking and drugs, had warped his mind,
The war was coming, the world in a bind.

Gathering arms for the fight of their life,
Blacks vs Whites, getting ready for the strife.

Funding is needed, for any good war,
Arms and supplies, always needing more.

So after a party, featuring mind altering drugs,
A robbery was planed, the family now thugs.

The first attacks, were directed at those,
Oblivious to Charlie, they had no foes.

Sharon Tate was a pregnant Hollywood beauty,
An aspiring actress, she was a real cutie.

Watson and Krenwinkel and other sick folk,
Tortured and killed, with a fork they did poke.

A horrible crime, what were they thinking?
Even lower they dropped, their ship kept on sinking.

The LaBianca castle was next on the list,
Beaten to death, with a hammer and a fist.

San Quentin and the gas chamber, to be their fate,
Sentences commuted to life, the reaper must wait.

To collect up those souls, and bring them to hell,
God may be forgiving, but this horror doesn’t sell.

Manson and his cronies must remain locked away,
New souls for the devil, in hell they will stay.


Please visit poemsbypaul.com
Mike Patten Aug 2016
She was hiding in the garden and met a cabbage named Fred,
She likes to give names to things she thinks are cool,
and call them friends.
Than she took me to her toy box,
"this is where everything goes",
this is the way, so stay and play,
and I know you'll feel at home.
"You be Cory, I'll be Topanga",
"you be Pete, I'm Mary Jane",
"I will be here, you don't always have to, smoke the pain away".
It's just me against myself again,
but she doesn't see my flaws,
"if you bottle your emotions, we'll just drink them through a straw".
igc May 2015
Reiterations of a HighSchool Queen Told in Poem

All things set aside
I Am Topanga
Beanie
Hiding my after shower frizz
Nothing but good vibez
You see who I am

long hair
chunky scarf
heaven tasting
sweatpants wearing
on my off days,

I am Wednesday Adams
Forget ability,
I feel as though I'm bleeding internally
I will
**** Everyone.

It's not o-*******-kay
that because everyones' sipping that hatorade
****'s mad political.

You're either winning
making the boys F
                      A
            L
L
like dominoes
or too tired to chose

You're tired,
looking like a pro
sinking like a shark filled submarine
It's Gross,

yet so ******* charming.
Red and White
Black and Blue
To the Moon and Back
I am who you see
Napolis Jan 2019
this night
in you,

when the
rains come
in the
wink
of an eye,

we crusade
into
the black

catching each
droplet
of night
upon our
tongues.

then savoring
the taste
together
deeply
and sweetly
between our
lips..

seeking our
salvation
humble
and as a
servant
to each other's
souls..

through
Topanga
canyon,

we walk

bare toes
in flight.

clouds
swollen
bellies
itching
to give
birth..

and there
behind
your eyes

naked
unafraid,

you
see
me...



and I

see you.

forever.
Mama earth Mar 2018
Beautiful babes with red fire hair
treasured favs extremely rare
life is sometimes debatably Fair
y'all Stand Tall
don't sell yourself short
tell ya ma youd like to call
Tybee, Topanga, and Savanah
You each are a doll
-Brooke Alison Ilene Anselment ®️ ©️
Daniel Peters May 2013
Her hair, her eyes.
Her smile, her laugh.
When I see her, I feel weak.
When she speaks to me, my heart warms me.
Her hair, more beautiful than a summer sunrise.
Her eyes, more beautiful than a moonlit clear night.
Her smile, so infectious that I can't help but smile back.
Her laugh, the most beautiful sound in the world.

When I'm with her, nothing matters.
The universe remains silent, just for us.
At first I thought we'd be like "Boy Meets World."

When we talk, the world disappears.
It's like we're the only two people on Earth.
It's quite soothing to talk to her because we connect.
Connect like Cory and Topanga.

After a long time, I ask, "Would you like to go out with me?"
Confidently I smile as I look at her bright eyes.
Then those fateful words are uttered,
"I like you as a friend."

In defeat, I slowly get out of the red-zone.
A cloud opens up on me and starts pouring.
Eventually I start to drown, until......
THEY pull me out. Those crazy guys I can call brothers.
The save me from drowning,
Save me from becoming who I'm not.
Then I learn,
I learn to let her go.
I don't fight because I have proven myself enough to her.

But don't get me wrong.
Being her man would be a dream come true.
But that's just it,
A dream.
Bill murray Jul 2015
I have to impignorate the two gun's that I own
Better in another man's feel
Though my landscape was purloined
And there organizations had combined,

Mr swickzer down the street from me
In Calabasis California
He will hold the tool for me
And the topanga state park
Will be a good getaway where I cannot be thieved again.
everly Jun 2017
run to me
tell me you need me
rely on me
love
me
why is it so hard to hold
him down?
Dont you want to feel appreciated
by somebody?
Please
tell me your darkest secrets
call me when you need me
to dry your eyes
I thought you were the key
that we'd be the ones
laying down by blossoming trees
both carefree
and both absentees to
society
imperfect lovers
like Topanga and Corey
and those quiet days
we'd camp out by the sea
to listen to our earth
and finally feel
free


~C
written summer 2016
Beats knocks, check the head nods,
Im similiar to Todd,
Laid up like needles,
Against all odds,
Walking gloomy shadows,
Of the fog,
I Never did like the dead birds,
Or the hogs,
I could breath through the smog,
If they, took me outta this earth,
This aint a gem,
But its infinite worth,
Lay rhymes to beats, like
Homer to Bert,
Stay locin, toned in for the smokin,
Funky medina,
Tell me have you seen her,
Mary showing up greener,
Far from a vigin,
Mics is precious, luxurious splurgin,
Hendrix gave me the sounds,
Now im urgin',
Rock to hip hop emergin surgin,
Rhymes like this, get yall to poppin to this,
Lay thick chicks pass Annie,
Or Liz Taylor,
Or maybe, link with a few hoes at Baylor,
Clean cut fade,with the parted razor,
Slice the vinyl, vibe to the beat,
As it meditates ya spinal,
Through the vibral,
courted Codex surpreme, just a rock version anthem of cream,
See everyone aint a team,
Optical flashes, once they see how ya money passes,
Through the radar, i aim pass the stars,
Settled on Mars, once i found my venus, come the cleanest,
Dolemite game,
Without using my *****,
Swing it like Venus,
Gun slanger, with multiple bangers,
They couldn't hangus,
Approach with danger,
You smell the smoke, im J Cash, rolling in a, jeep wrangler,
Coastal swanger,
Hold my toast close, than Corey and Topanga
Anton Angelino Oct 2019
Basically what I wanted to write down I had in my head,
but when it comes to you,
it’s fleeting,
like a thunderbird,

it feels good to say,
you have not your favorite park or radio station,
but your favorite person,
and that person is you,

but you can’t lose me like your car keys,
with that heart-shaped charm I gave you,
I won’t burn out like gasoline in your car,
even though I feel I burnt out long ago,
the roadless,
New York,
Topanga,
no matter where you take me,
your car keys fit in my heart’s lock
and I can’t do nothing about it,
the night,
the day,
my head,
no matter when you take me,
I’m hung up on you
and I like it,

it was like a lightning strike,
momentary,
however spectacular,
love is my working tool and poetry’s the playground,
I don’t know if I still love you,
but I will because I like it,

like a thunderbird,
like lightning,

and I like it.
Poem #13 off my first poem collection titled ‘Feels like Roswell’. I got the idea in my car. This is a love poem - no matter what you do, I will stay with you.

— The End —