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Ariel Knowels Aug 2014
I used to stand in church
and close my eyes

waiting for a god to wash me over
with peace and love

and all i felt was

the tingling in my fingertips

the uncomfortable way my eyes were closed

the soft hairs tickling my temples

the pain resounding in my joints

and i didn't feel god
all i felt was the awkwardness of me

standing in a church
anmey Aug 2014
i do not think about
the persian gulf or
the turkish avenue and i
do not look at the sluggish part of
my heart that is on
the ground. instead i am
content with piles of taffy
and tired eyes
tied like ships,
soggy chamomile tea and misty pieces
of noise. i laugh
in the spots where
there are none and
i choke on holograms
during intermission like
holding fast to the smell of salt.
(they made me think of you)
Elise Law Aug 2014
To be hugged by someone you love,
Is not a simple matter.

The first hug was shy and awkward,
But the second hug was warm and complete.

The heat radiating from him on a cold winter's day,
Warms me up.

His arms circling around me,
It feels like home.

It is like we are meant to be,
As we fit completely with each other.

I feel safe in his arms,
Like he is protecting me from the outside world.

I can tell that every hug I get from him is full of love,
As I also put all my love into my hugs.

One hug can make you feel special and happy,
So treasure that hug and do not forget.
If you have read my other poem 'Hugs', you will know that it was very simple. This one has more of a meaning to it.
The hugs from this special person are wonderful!
Enjoy :)
Aizzur Festejo Jul 2014
How lucky.
A friend you're comfortable with
Where talking is not a necessity
But stays by your side and in need
Giving you warmth and security.

How sly.
Enjoying and loving the company
So much, that losing it hurts
Until one confessed, so canny
So unfair, at first it was nerts.

How uneasy.
Like nothing happened, nothing heard
Guilt and depression never left
Selfishness, insensitivity increased a third
But for all's sake, it was all kept.

How selfish
Liked you, missed you. Indeed selfish
Wanted to try and see what will happen
But will it not break us? it just became a wish
Guess, it might be the best then.

How to say goodbye
I say goodbye. Your romances will be missed,
Sweet talks and how we used to be
It will be awkward, we might get ****** but,
We're originally friends, remember?
Esz-Pe-Bea Jul 2014
Trophies for last place,
And a Holiday for every weekend.
A taste of this and that...
OF Italy and Ireland and Asia and Germany
and every township in the county,
and 3 collective Miles of
Portable Toilets,
Strategically Positioned
throughout each event.
cause there is going to be a Lot of ****...

Hooray for whatever we are celebrating this weekend.
Whichever one of the 30 different Woodstocks
Or week long Music Festivals
That exist only so
the Hippest of Hipsters
can congratulate each other
on how Indie they are.

Ya know, it's happy hour somewhere...
Why not party
All Day, Everyday?
Devalue the weekend
Like we have thanksgiving
And New Years.
A Five Kay For the Common Cold,
And We'll even give trophies for last place.
Cause we're all winners here.
and we're all hungry.
And What represents your heritage better than
Pizza or sauerkraut or General Tso's
And endless flowing barrels of refreshing, Ice cold, Domestically brewed and Nationally brand recognized Alcoholic Beverages?

IT's The Great Dumb Down, Charlie Brown!!!
A symptom of the Universe
If there ever was one.
Mass anesthesia to keep us all content
With our collective mediocrities,
our Forfeit Potential,
Our Day Job that doesn't pay very well,
But kind has benefits.
So we stay on.
In fear of nothing better.
It makes feel important.
Like Wheel of Fortune makes us feel smart.
(Wow, you can spell?!)...
Dwindling returns in a world of Beige and Pastels
And the Muted Grays of limestone concrete.
We Accept less and we Get less and we accept less and we Get less
And On And on and on,
till we hit that lowest common cultural denominator,
where your race is what food you eat,
And we all qualify for the special Olympics.
A selection from a series of poems written on the handrail of a bridge.  June 13th, 2012
Rose Rossa Jul 2014
I’m not very good at meeting people
I get stuck in my head
and before anything is said
get lost in an existential crisis

conversing and the rules thereof
imply a two-sided exchange
of information
between two people

two
people

one person

talking to

another

person

to start with
I’d hate to mislead anyone
into thinking
I’m a real person

people
maybe

fractured parts
of everyone from my past

more like
the universe and all it contradicts
wrapped in skin
every expanding cosmic mess
all caged within my chest
but I digress

the universe is too big for small talk
I don’t want to know what friends on facebook you’re keeping
or what side on tinder you’re sweeping
I want to know what keeps you from sleeping
like do you lay awake at night
wondering what the hell is up with life?

do you notice it’s weird that we just say things
abuse words like play things
waste taste in search of ratings
we sit around discussing topical themes
but can we just appreciate please
we’re all made of dying stars
inhabiting this planet of ours
with little to no answer thus far

confirming reality
through perceived causality
defining by touch
but
even that is an atom apart
this whole science thing is going to far
as my brain goes bust
it’s something I’d really like to discuss

but

basically I don’t know who I am
and somehow I’m here
attempting a verbal version
of me as a person
I’m not even sure exists yet
something i've been meaning to write for ages. first draft but i'm just glad it's finally coming out
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