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 May 2018 rose
Lydia
Home
 May 2018 rose
Lydia
We could barely see the road
In between the pouring rain and three in the morning
I didn't feel tired until I woke up a half an hour later and realized I was exhausted
And almost no closer

He drove, the whole way there and the whole way back
The rain (mostly) stopped and every once in awhile we would comment on the state of things
Everything that had happened

Home is now suspended somewhere in between
As you guys probably know by now, I like to comment on the concept of home and where home really is. Since I'm going to college next year, I've spent much of the last two trying to figure out where home is to me personally and what I want to make of it. I live on the east coast and over the summer I wrote something else about what I thought it would be like for my father to drop me off on my first day. Today I rewrote the idea with the drive to my accepted students day at the actual school I want to go to. Hopefully it will get a third try in the fall.
 May 2018 rose
Lydia
The graffiti on the bathroom stalls has been blotted out by butterflies
The world is taking back it's body
Bringing back old fashioned Roman  concrete to fill in all the cracks

She's taken apart the locks just in case something beautiful got trapped inside
Every safe is a time capsule
Curiosity isn't dangerous anymore

Every time she took a step, the air shuddered
The soles of her shoes grew roots and flew away
She was humming and fixing things as she went with just the soothing sound of her sanity
Her soul leeching out like an ethereal mechanic

There were wishing flower seeds mixed in with the strawberries she was picking
I think when she ate them, she became holy
Her hands stroked the wind as they fell to her sides,
Like running her fingers through horse hair

At first, she made the mistake of falling in love with elevator buttons
Up, or down, one or the other, in constant motion
When they cut her open, she bled ivy
She invaded their circuitry and rotted their robotic
She showed them alive and showed them the door

She didn't understand wildfires
She knew passion only by its name,
Only by the monuments, by the mountains, and trenches
By the continents drifting like ice in lemonade
"You can't ruin this," she said

And if this is what burnt out looks like,
Imagine what will happen when the meteor hits
Or the bombs go off, or the oceans flood
This isn't a project we can procrastinate on
These are our wide open spaces and final frontiers

See, the world is taking her body back
Bandaging the scars we left,
Quietly, behind us, when we aren't looking
She's reinventing herself
Just like a garden,
Just like a caterpillar,
Just like a star we couldn't give up on
And we're all standing here, shouting, "We can change-"
We can change.
I don't talk about the environment very often. I think it's difficult to write about. This was inspired when I saw some graffiti in our school bathroom so crude and ****** and awful that I almost cried. Our school either doesn't know, doesn't care, or can't afford to paint over it. It's been there for months. So I imagined sticking paper butterflies all over it until you couldn't see it anymore. It reminded me of all those places where nature won and turned parking lots into jungles. It's beautiful.

Please comment :)
 May 2018 rose
Lydia
Puzzle
 May 2018 rose
Lydia
"But what if we're wrong?"
It was silent
But her thoughts echoed around in my head as we laid on top of her pickup truck
I swatted at the eighteenth mosquito chewing on my leg
I don't want this to be love

We were tangled up in the acoustic music they play on the radio on Sunday mornings
She was trying to dream up something clever to write about
And I was pretending I could learn to play guitar through osmosis,
As if blending myself in with the harmonies, finding her in every lyric, and sheer willpower would give me wings or at least magic guitar hands

She set the alarm, checked it over and over
She was not going to be late for her first day
I told her I'd be asleep when she got home, she told me she knew
I told her to wake me up

I wasn't looking for perfect
Perfect really only applies in first year physics courses
After that, we learn to fall in love with "rough around the edges" or "unique" or "unfinished"
As if their life is a puzzle that we need to complete
Just so you know, it isn't

She bought me breakfast and dropped me off
She used to tell me she loved me, but I know she didn't
She does now, so she doesn't have to say it anymore
When I said, "love," before, I didn't really mean it
Not like I mean loving the garden on the balcony of her apartment or thunderstorms in May
Even if I was a puzzle that she completed (and I'm not saying that I am), we didn't need any glue to fit perfectly
The support on this poem has been unbelievably incredible. I am so grateful for this community with all of these lovely people :)

Please comment :)
 May 2018 rose
Mike Virgl
Rhadda Rhadda Rhu Rhadda?
Rhadda, Rhadda Rhadda?
Rhadda Rhadda Rha? Rhadda Rhadda?
Rhadda Rhadda Rhadda Rhad Rhadda Rhad Rhadda Rhadda.

Rhadda Rhadd,Rhadda Rhadda Rhadda.
Rhadda Rhadda Rhad, Rha Rhadda Rhadda,
Rhadda Rhadda, Rhadda Rhadda Rha Rhadda.
Rha Rhadda, Rhadda.

"I dream of what I wish to be."

Rhadda?

Rhadda Rhadda Rhadda.
Rhadda Rhadda.
Rhadda Rha Rhadda, Rha Rhadda Rha Rhadda.
Rhadda, Rha Rhadda, Rhadda.
Rhadda Rha.

Rhadda Rhadda Rhadda, Rha Rhadda Rha Rhadda Rha Rha, Rhadda Rhadda Rhadda.
Rhadda Rhadda Rhadda. Rhadda Rhadda Rhadda, Rha Rhadda. Rha Rha Rhadda Rha.

Rhadda Rhadda Rha, Rhadda Rhadda Rhadda.
Rhadda Rhadda... Rha.

Is death meant to be?
If it is, can we allow it?
Can we tempt God? Is it a Temptation?
A man is just a man and there is one just like him
next to him.

The toil, Oh the toil murders souls.
Children shed their skin, as the knife cuts them,
so that from their blood, nourishment may be provided
for their ravenous, broken dreams.

"I dream of what I wish to be."

Do you?

A man was bound to be a doctor.
As Fate leads many a man.
Yet as fate does often, it changed in favor of a coin toss.
Heads, or tails, the side one.
This side won.

So let my piece be spoken, for my words are soaked and stale, and they are beginning to make me sick.

Never take the first job you find. Never make a decision based on fear, or pride. Never decide based on indecision or instability.

Live for what you wish, and never wish for what you wanted.
It leaves you... Empty

Was this version funny?
I guess it wasn't foreign sounding, now,
It sounded harsh and biting.
I guess because you finally could understand it,
it finally meant something.
Foreign things are very funny.
 May 2018 rose
saige
oh, there's orion!
i point to the sky
the fool looks
for a human
oh, i thought he was
your boyfriend
or something
he grins
cheeks to eyelashes
the kid giggles like
a cigarette
like second hand
choking
bless all the bubbles
that airhead spreads
gotta love my brother's best friend
 May 2018 rose
Tiana Marie
Art is just art unless you start feeling.
Words are just words unless you give them some meaning.
Love is just love unless you do actions.
Hate is just hate unless you give it some traction.
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