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Sarah Flynn Oct 2020
you held me close to you,
and I felt your heart beating
deep inside of your rib cage.

I closed my eyes and listened
to the rise and fall of your chest,
hearing the soft thump of
your heartbeat and imagining
that if I stayed still for long enough,
I could melt into you.

for the first time in my life,
I felt like I belonged.

you made me feel like
I belonged with you

like I belonged on this planet.

like I belonged here, right here,
secure in your arms.

I haven’t felt safe
since you let go of me.
Max Neumann Sep 2020
you can't go back to dem buildings
let it be, hashtag smorky, snakes
from the face of the heavens it's
a quiet view, this place feels like home

you can't go back there, tribulations
you know the mentality of cockroaches
you know their game and you know mine
you're standing on your own, decide

who could they possibly ask to fight?
energy, loaded brain, muscle flex
bullet holes, wild roses and benzes  
a quiet view, this place feels like home

who could possibly burn the struggle down?
in the voice of the enemy, you hear yourself
too many will fall, too many will collapse
you're standing on your own, my friend
Max Neumann Sep 2020
i met a girl and tried to kiss her
but at nighttime, we standing on our own
we be watching old jack, showing off
heavy necklaces, king of gold bracelets

old jack had approcached us like a wizard
and showed her and me his palm lines
she looked at them and guessed: a butcher
old jack smiled, a smile filled with home
Deeply inspired by:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9Fj77Aq5eI8  

****!
Jo Barber Aug 2020
Wind throws itself through my clothes,
tossing my hair and cooling the sweat of the climb
from my burning, beating body.
I am here. I am where I need to be -
high above the crowds and the clouds,
alone and utterly free.
There is much to see
but little to do,
and earthly troubles melt away
amidst these towering peaks.

It is mine, I declare.
But no, only in the mountains
do you finally realize
that nothing belongs to you.
SiouxF Aug 2020
I wonder where,
Where I call home.
I’m uncomfortable with others,
With their ersatz shallow ways,
Except those few sweet few.
I prefer most my own company
Away from the many,
The contradictions, the confusion, the overload of senses.
Its so much easier that way.
No worry.  
Be myself,
Without fear
Of treading on eggshells
Lest I put my foot in it,
once again,
Saying wrong things,
Being judged,
Being criticised.
Just for being.

But I’m lonely too,
That lack of connection,
To others
and myself.
I pretend.
I keep busy.
I have no time to feel.
I pass absently
And joylessly
through a life
Of empty
Disconnection,
Discombobulation,
With a heavy weight upon my back.
Tis sad.
Tis a waste.
Till a fall from sweet grace.
From what we are sent here to do.
Spread love.
Be love.
Love all.
Love you.
Love me.
This is an ok poem, not great I feel, though it’s sentiments were true at that time. However, being new to poetry I committed to share my journey with you fellow poets and explorers of the truth.
This was my third ever poem, and my first attempt into something more personal than the woods.
My first version was very unpersonalised. I didn’t want to “own” my thoughts and feelings. It’s slightly more personalised now, but still has a way to go. I am leaving it here as is as I feel it’s a starting point as to what comes later..... It is imperfect. And that’s ok Now there’s an admission!
I left home
Aged 10
Put on a bus and away I went
Gone to oblivion
Into the void
Mum standing on the platform
Growing smaller as the bus drove away
Already gone.
Now a man, I return to that bus
Where that boy should have never been.
I take him in my arms
And hold him,
I will not let him go!
He can come home to me,
Stay with me in my home-heart.
We can be together, friends, brothers, partners, companions at arms.
You are safe now with me my boy!
I will not let you go.
Marquis Green Jul 2020
Missing the risks of angst in your growing states,
Asking for more events, more moments, more
Defining traits,
An access to adulthood with pure innocence attached,
A lip sealed love note passed around to everyone before your beauty,
They all knew,
7AM would be the warmest, yet calmest part of morning,
Still stuck in mourning,
I wish I spoke more
Before they moved too far to hear me.
The music was never about listening,
It only took responsibility dropping
To escape back into the vibe,
Show and tell,
List the moments of your family,
Tell me about your history before 1930,
And how you managed to come to existence,
And what you miss the most.
Arcades at the back of the grocery store,
Summers I couldn’t wait to never end,
Friendships and evolution of speech,
Touch felt genuine, and not out of courtesy.
We earned the lockers, a pasty white future,
And textbooks so old,
Just to repeat history every lunch period,
“Speak from the heart”
No, speak with your love,
You’ll create waves when you skip rocks.
Fleeting,
A timeless moment of happiness,
I have it until I remember why I shouldn’t,
It does declare,
“My everything, if this time feels like it belongs in a capsule,
Bury this melodic lead behind championed trophies and campsites,
Let me know the face of my first crush,
I’ll write mistakes all through my notebook,
The boys won’t let me call it a diary,
The girls say you shouldn’t keep a journal,
Well, we’ll just call it a logbook.
Coffee’s bitter,
Everything looks like the past,
While my presence is just future tense tension,
Who, me?
I’d rather represent silence with error,
I’ll dance to whatever I’d like,
And depression just sounds like a Fray song over muddled rain,
That radio compression makes every cassette sound fragile,
You’ll miss it.
You’ll miss it so bad.”

Boys get louder to express their feelings,
Unmatured matchmakers,
To lunch tables clamoring over last night’s news,
And tomorrow’s homework,
Order and stability,
It’s just one house,
And we’re all chipping at the paint,
Things we let go, caused issues in our fondness,
But we still had festivals, parties, and experiencing our favorite MP3s as a live audience.

I might not ever return,
Let’s take these, our foundational stones,
And not forget why tossing them in the water,
Felt like the time right before the streetlights came on,
And our favorite TV show rewound Season 3, Episode 5.

A closure to answers,
A burden to ask questions,

Not a care in the world but my missing Link Cable,
And a liability to not be late,

My friends will leave if I don’t show up right after school.
We’ve got the newest trading cards,
And one time will be the last time,
But the last time will feel like just another time.
This is a brand new single I'm gonna be releasing soon, and I could really use some feedback on how I can transform this into a contemporary work!
Thank you and I missed you all it's been a long 4 years!
Gabriel Jul 2020
i don't think i'm getting better
but i'm drinking oat milk again.
it's the stuff my parents buy,
rich and creamy, and it doesn't
have the aftertaste of thick curdle.
and, i mean, i'm still listening to mitski,
but it's strawberry blond, not nobody,
which is equally sad when you read into it –
except i'm trying not to read into things any more.

i got a degree in reading into things
from the same university wherein i walked
the unfamiliar city streets at three in the morning,
looking for a suitable canal to drown myself in.
it was all dropping rocks to test the depth,
hands stuffed in my bright yellow raincoat pockets,
van gogh quotes and 11am seminars
and "i don't really want to die thirsty, maybe i should just

go home, you know?"

but i did that. three years of it, and i went home
to a not-quite home. that's what my parents say.
"what time are you home?" and "aren't you glad to be home?"
except for me, home isn't a four bedroom in warrington.
it's not even a seven bedroom (or, as we had it, six-bedroom-and-one-unusued-gym-room) in lancaster. it's...

well, that's the thing, isn't it?
what is home?
it's certainly not a dairy substitute.
although, i suppose, i'd rather drown in swirls of oat
than swirls of lactose. my parents say i've always been quirky like that.

me. quirky little girl from warrington.
a draft that i'm publishing now.
Maelynn Jul 2020
Chipped China, too worn
To be displayed-
Locked away, ashamed
Hidden where none can see;
It sings a mournful melody.
Reaching out, full of longing
Wanting only to be known-
Searching for a sense of belonging,
Searching for its home sweet home.
Mansi Jun 2020
It’s hard to see
everyone fit in while
you’re an odd jigsaw puzzle
Be patient!
You fit in with God
And the beautiful community
He provides
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