I know you're goin' to grow old, dude.
Seems pretty scary to you right now.
I would not advise you to DENY the fear.
Make changes.
Make adjustments.
Get more involved in your community.
Live a more
Meaningful Life.

JAC 6d

I wish beyond wishes
To remain human with you:
We'll change and grow
And age and slow
But in the end, we'll prove were just

For a favourite human of mine.

What's gonna' happen to me
When I ain't so beautiful no more?
What's gonna' happen to me
When I'm no longer
Sexually attractive
To men?
Will there be anything about me
To interest anyone
When no one wants to
Look at me.
Will anyone still love me
When I'm old and gray.

Weeping willow Apr 16

Slicing off frozen tears
that slips beneath my heart
Silently sifting through
old stagnating pieces
Trudging alone inside
this darken path
Shadows dance with taunting faces
Depressions fire burns bright
Down upon this tunnel floor

My heart weeps inside
the winds of sorrow
Coming from nowhere's land
Fiercely blowing across my mind
Leaving me in desolation
The winds howl through me
like I'm hollow
Transparent to the touch of your hand
In deep darkness
My mind is cold
Vaguely remembering what love felt like
Before we got old
Yet still our love is there
Hidden deep in the cold chambers
of forgetfulness
Taking your hand
We slip behind the shadows
Where our youth was stored
Forever leaving our old bodies
To dance upon the floors of the universe
For there our hearts are young
Where we cherish our love
We never grow old walking
inside the laughter of the sun
Where darkness never comes
We truly see each other again
As we melt together
as one.

By Weeping willow

This was written about me and my husband,who I love with all my heart.Though life has crept in and changed us,slowing us down and changing our faces
Mark Lecuona Apr 9

it is a human thing; to look,
to reject, to judge,
but what to believe?

if you were alone; surrounded by strangers,
would you bring your fears, your defiance;
would you give them a chance to give you a chance,
or are you convinced that life is not your friend?

don’t let it be your funeral; put the shovel down,
unless you are ready to plant some seeds;
remember how you smiled when you were alone,
but what is courage if you cannot smile at doubt  

i’ve heard many a preachers word,
under vaulted high beamed ceilings,
with stained glass lights, glowing;
upon my quiet soul and
my divided conscience

and so am i strong enough to fight
or to turn the other check

and so still,
i’m asking the question, and
i will continue my search,
without further suggestion;
i have read enough
and what we can glean from it, except
the fanatics never leave
and the doubters never stay
but i’m not one to do whatever it takes
i’m not a marxist
nor a prophet
i’m not self-satisfied;
a know it all doesn’t know enough
only too much to be loved

how to treat people
is it just for my salvation, or
is it just the right thing?
would i have known had i never heard a sermon?
but to understand another man, is to listen to him;
it is to stop thinking about my own plans, yes, i will stop;
if you need me too, but even if you don’t,
i will anyway; i will clear my mind for you;
and begin my life again

is life passing me by; i have to ask,
the answer is yes, but,
only if you care about the time of day,
or the year

but is treating people the right way old-fashioned;
i’m no longer a child; selfish and impatient
i’m no longer a young man; glorious in my triumphs
i’m not a man in crisis; not about indecision;
i know who i am, unafraid to change,
no longer impressed by human standards;
not beauty for beauty’s sake,
not dishonesty because there’s money at stake;
no, none of that moves me
i’m just a man gazing upon a farm i never tilled;
hungry for character,
the way an early riser with calloused hand earns

too much money can’t be bought,
or so they say, but
what of his ambition;
a poor boy is hungry enough,
but is he honest;
only a cross of gold knows

i heard a lie, but
nobody wants to talk about it;
It's better to pretend it was true
or never said at all

i was angry, but
i have to keep it to myself;
they might think I’m crazy,
even though they yelled at me first

what you cannot see,
a thousand cuts that never left a scar;
but the river of blood flows freely inside of me,
i will ride along to see where it ends;
but i will never tell you why i let it happen, no
it doesn’t matter anyway; it just felt right at the time

let us dig a hole together;
not for ourselves, but to bury our pain,
our assumptions of hate,
towards them,
and towards ourselves;
we will go our own way now;
but you first,
the shovel gleams with anticipation,
while my heart watches you bury a sermon,
and plant a heart of your own

JAC Apr 9

I suppose my words
Might mature with me
But they might stay young
As many of us so badly wish to.

Noah A Baker Apr 9

I really wish I was a kid again,
But, it's really shocking,
because I've waited so long to grow up.

I was so wrong to believe
that adulthood was a great place to go hiking.
I really wish I was a kid again.

However, all my goals I've yet to achieve
Make these unknown trails so very enticing,
because I've waited so long to grow up.

Even though I was incredibly naive,
If I said I wouldn't go back, even for a day, I'd be lying.
I really wish I was a kid again.

Time is a thug in a band of thieves,
Who always stole, but I was never crying,
because I've waited so long to grow up.

Aging is a quilt some will never want to weave,
But I want to make more than one. Honestly,
I really wish I was a kid again,
because I've waited so long to grow up.

first attempt at a villanelle, but I've found as I've gotten older, like most, I wish I could go back to a more simple time. However, I'm excited to get older, as new opportunities become available and I'm able to chase my aspirations and goals.

first comes the walk
walks are required now
prescribed to ward off
effects of life

getting from here to there
taken for granted
vertical movement
now a task

next was found
the Underground
home of brews
home of seats

some soft, cushy
others wooden
yet warm, inviting
come, taste our brew

chairs, sofas
filled with chatting people
mostly women
looking into faces

illuminated screens
across coffee, latte or tea
smiles, grimaces

what is shared
humor, news
fears, fraughts, fragments
dimensions of now, the past

people rise to
pick up special steaming
drinks fresh from
the Underground

he never orders latte
standard drinks
brew of the day
fill his cup

an inkling may stir
his brain, he will order
a white chocolate mocha

Leigh Marie Apr 5

Growing tired of the present I
Fear the future cause she is
My next door neighbor
I am reminded of her everyday
I pass her in the hallway
She waves hello but I
Do not want her to move in with me
I'm happy alone

Alan S Bailey Apr 3

Over and over,
this smooth sound is going through one
ear and the other, the settle sound
of the rushing of blood
flowing through my ever shedding,
ever alleviating body, by nature? NO.
Still accompanied by the "truth," my human
parts being made without molded clay,
all of them free now, a part of something many
find "naughty."
You can find similarities in the mountains,
in the various hills arches, like the back, the neck,
the lift of the full volume of your chest,
You reach for the toothbrush, the comb,
ashamed; your hair in tangles, of the teeth that decay,
though one time you shall see how the
chest is so filled with pain. Nevermind.
We all don't care about that pain until it happens that
eventual day. This human body made "without perfections,"
it continues to smell, to pleasure or suffer, to be hungry,
to find itself wrapped up in it's sole need for sex.
We must remember to be clean for inspections.
No exceptions, no matter what is being said.
It will keep clawing, keep scratching, until it finds it's
way out, once it escapes it's metal cage.

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