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Aly Fatal Sep 2010
I want to dissect the space in between growing up and being an adult
I want to see the heart as it beats its desperate beat of not enough
I want to see the lungs that save their breath because the worst thing to ever happen has not happened yet
I want to see the brain that has just started to question the belonging that was inherent in every held hand between friends
And I want to see the vestiges of the tales told to children that made them believe that growing up was wondrous
But which shrunk in the face of an evolution that explained away the magic in the world and told us that real life was good...
enough.
I want to dissect that space and see it before growing older starts to feel like growing colder
I want to dissect that space after falling in love is only about unscarred hearts and tiny little steps of faith
And then I want to keep each piece
Cultivating and grafting to get the perfect hybrid of knowing that things sometimes don’t work out and believing that anything is possible
Making my monster out of childish this and adultish that
And I want to give it life
Flinging it out the window
And then maybe wondering if it has wings.
softcomponent Dec 2013
given the ephemeral nature
of each and every momentous,
classics dribble inward and a soul
-search begins. you are my original
source. you are where I come from.
and like the sense of nothingness
behind my eyes, I watch and live via
chance afforded by you.  you'lltide
music contains a reminder of the holiest
birth.. and it's not the birth of a fellow
named Christ, but the birth of a Christ
-like and likeliness within each of us.
Every birth is the birth of Christ, and
you have afforded me a chance in the
Kingdom of Heaven.. misty-eyed 'get
groceries' and the fuzzy friend I once
called Furry before I knew fury
before I knew hurrying as an adultish
sorta blob that smears the sidewalks on
a never-ending rant to work now I'm
gonna change the world and it's you
I have to thank.

*(I love you, mom)
dedicated to my momma bear, Patricia-Jane Paterson.
Marisa Lu Makil Apr 2015
I wish I could write a poem

About that song I heard.

The one that is happy

And sad

And childish

And adultish

But there are no words.

Just your fingers

Playing with the piano

Plucking at my heart.

Oh well.

I will think of something else.
JB Fuller Jan 2018
i thought i could fly
so i climbed up the mountain
the view was very nice
wind blew through my hair
on its wings flew inspiration
i lifted up my feet to soar
and i ran away from the peak
navigating the currents
and it felt very pleasant
because i knew i was high
i landed ever so softly
gently, in the schoolyard
my feet carried me away
i found me at the seesaw
recounting my flight
the audience intent
the door slammed open
i whirled in surprise
teacher hurring to us
the devil in her face
and hell in her lips
lucifer bound my eyes
grating noises in my ears
i thought i escaped unscathed
but the next day i jumped again
and found my wings had been clipped
in a trance i shuddered
and tumbled to the ground
i lie with broken wing
but i know it not
i lie with broken dream
i cannot
rise

******* the playground
spinning wild fantasy
good to imagine but bad
to believe it all true
i had to do something to stop
inside i drew her alone and free
i distinguished myth and reality
her feet must stay on the ground
and all this insane wishes of dreams
is as eradicated i hope as yesterday
she must move on and be adultish
abandoning childhood fairies and hopes
i have made her a survivor
this is the way things go in this life
those who do not learn fall and break their necks
because we are post-everything
and definitely beyond this immature obsession
everyone must fall sometime
and it is good that i made her today
before she climbs to the summit
inside of herself
and crashes hard to break
to shatter more than myth
but infringing on reality
i have caught her
safely in my arms
i had a peculiar dream last night

i dreamed i could fly
thinking and lifting up
now, awake, i can only wonder
why i would dream such a lie
Qualyxian Quest Jul 2020
Maybe just one life
Then the Disappear

All my adultish days
The ever present fear

I'd like to take a trip
With her to lost in Boston

Trinity Episcopal
Brown without the cost in

Tell her of my story
Expain with honest words

But now it is not likely
Given what she's heard

Today my son turns 12
Gift cards in email

Distance is the sorrow
Sorrow in the tale

Protection please prevail!

— The End —