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Shrika Oct 21
" live again."

As I meld back into the
scarred infinity,
daffodils blossom
in my frostbitten dimples
giggles run wild,
over the slumbering
the tide's ebbing away
slow and sure,
I kiss the raindrops goodbye,
the child inside,
never seems to die.

"I wish..."
twenty one
between an adolescent and an adult
a pretty number, don't you think?

twenty one
two decades of breathing and screaming
one year of confusion and uncertainty

twenty one
too young to handle; too old to let go
what they want us to do though?

twenty one; it's hard
expectations and desires fought inside
one foul step, and you fall in despair
for you, generation z, desperate for a change
Nat Lipstadt Apr 2015
21 hours ago
received the message below,
from a fellow poet, here,
now somewhat, more disappeared,
resting in the shady quietude of
Elliot's servers

a mere 21 hours ago,
a thunderbolt telegram
of virtual dots and dashes,
well received

whose name
you have forgotten,
even if you knew it back when
I shan't knowingly now reveal...

perhaps if you were
one of the
multiyear variates,  
still here, still seeking
to the
equations of the
human formulation,
one of the veterans of the
early word wars,
when the line between fellow poet
and human being was full of
invitational openings,
tween those dots and dashes,
we all eagerly entered those places,
crossing over into
those human openings,
making poets into friends,
if you webbed here back then,
you may have known her too...

21 hours ago -

"there's a reason
I got to know you,
even though that might
sound silly.
In a way,
you saved me
two summers ago..."

this message,
teaches me to remember
the power of words
be careful what you
you just might save a

didn't not ken, well enough
the pressurized curve of her bend,
though read all her private journals,
her thesis academic,
her private ascetic analysis
and poems that milked & masked
the angst of a life
really real hard

tried anyway,
two years of messages

could not feign
the pain
unintentionally recovered
while looking for
clues to myself,
this purported savior

all I recall is
a woman near her ends
woman near no means
but knowing the meaning of
the power drink meaning of
"just going on"
that was dug deep in between,
and how we traded poems
for each other,
and I called her,


but from now on and within,
when I see a message
time stamped
21 hours ago
I'll be
better ready
for the
explosions of myself
21 hours ago
"However long I don't talk - for whatever stupid reason I never have the courage to talk to others when I am lost in my life-- I still think of you and I hope you know that. I still think there's a reason I got to know you, even though that might sound silly. In a way you saved me two summers ago..."
dear quinn,

you can't stop
playing the
you're afraid
of breaking the

and you can't stop
you're afraid
of pushing people

s a m Feb 5
I've heard enough of "follow your dreams."

I've heard it from my parents; I've heard it from my teachers. Even most of my friends have told me that so of course I did what they say. I tried chasing my dreams as it goes and give me the excitement of living in this world I live. I chase the things that kind of giving me the joy and the visions of the better person I want to be after so many years. There I realized chasing could be that tiring. I often trip on a rock, fell down on the ground, get wounded and crawl back up. It's not an easy experience. Not when the things I chased is something worth deserving for other people who also struggle reaching their stars. So it came to my mind that I should give up. I need to give up! Not because I'm tired or because I'm weak but because my mind is starting to be consumed by my own obsessions and it's really not a good thing for me. It just caused me depressions. It caused me pain. But doesn't mean I've given up on that dream, means I should stop on dreaming. For me, it's like a life that lost its meaning when you stop dreaming. So I tell myself "Chase another dreams! If the once dream you had is not meant for you, maybe there's far better than that which you'll eventually see. Don't stop and lose hope. After all, life's more worth than all of those dreams."
21, Copyright © 2019
Sam N. de la Rosa
All Rights Reserved.
Riley Jan 30
We met in a beautiful way,
But we didn't know that we're both cursed.

There's many things I wanted to say,
But the Separation came first.

At the beginning of the journey - Me,
At the very end - You.

We're both stuck, don't you see,
Our shadows are lurking, that's true.

So, pushing ourselves away,
We're both losing each other.

I will trust the Universe,
To break the Curse from one another.
s a m Jan 29
Looking back I saw an 8 years old boy

playing pretend of 20's age.

Lost in the moment while holding his toys

doesn't know what it means to be that bold

of dreaming to be someone who he isn't sure.

Something in his mind was dreams.

Something in his heart was joy.

Well, now he's 21

with not a single thing to do.

Indeed, he's become glum and boring

even felt like a fool.

He's scarcely sleeping due to anxieties

causing then and now a big insanity.

Only glimpse of memories

makes him a little bit happy

when most of the time he felt pain entirely.

He wants to be that 8 years old boy

who dreamed to be a chef.

Sometimes, that 16 years old guy

who aspired to be a vet –

'cause he love animals especially cats.

He knows where those two are now;

they are all in his past.

But 21 where you at!?
Still not sure where u at.

21, Copyright ©2019
Sam N. de la Rosa
All Rights Reserved.
s a m Jan 29
The further you conceal your feelings,

that's how near you get to **** yourself.
21, Copyright ©2019
Sam N. de la Rosa
All Rights Reserved.
John Glenn Jan 28
When you're 21
and barely
and wholly
people expect
you to pull
your ****
and handle it
you ought to say
f*ck you
**** is nasty
and I expect
to flush mine
the toilet drain
muteD Jan 10
A mother’s touch is
suppose to be tender,
one you would lean into.
But, instead
I would flinch.
Not for fear of any physical pain
she could cause me
but only because
she never touches me.

“you are really damaged”
21 years of searching for
a mother’s love
will do that to you.
Searching for that missing piece
and hoping that if you do everything
she wants and everything
you can possibly do to help her
that maybe,
just maybe,
you’ll finish the puzzle and
she’ll love you.
Which is absurd because
she won’t
and she can’t.
How can a mother love her children
when she knows of no love herself?

Cat and mouse..
A game I’ve always hated
but a game I know all too well.
because she always flaunts
what she knows I want
right in my face.
She knows what I crave
and how to make me weak.
My one true weakness,
Well, the idea of one
because I have never had one before.
A family to call mine?
One that would love me unconditionally
and honestly?
The universe has
a sense of humor after all
and it’s Me.
My whole life I’ve been looking for the love only a mother can provide.. needless to say, that search is over and I have turned up empty handed.
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