Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Sidney Chelle Dec 2018
today, i return to Massachusetts. i will step out of Logan Airport and breathe the air i haven't breathed in four months. it will taste crisp and cold. i will do my special little breath before the big one when i step outside. maybe the wind will hurt. maybe it will feel good. maybe the hurt will feel good.
today, i will be driven home by someone who drinks Dunkin and softens their R's, just a little bit. just enough for you to notice if you listen. i will look out the window for the one house with the one chimney and i will say "you can turn here."
i will pet my cats and i will lie down in my bed and when i roll over, i won't hit the wall. when i look across the room, i won't see the dark lump of my roommate in her bed. i will not hear her phone buzz quietly during the night. i will not hear people in the distance, shouting and singing and laughing.
and when i wake up tomorrow and sit up, ready to say good morning to my parents and my brother, ready to play guitar and kiss my friends and cook and drive and smile and cry, it will all be the same as before but completely different.
because i am completely different.
"you are of this place. it is changing you."
i am of Pitzer now. i am of California and sun and In N' Out and cacti and mountains and linguistics papers and psych memes and long walks and Laemmle's and McConnell and dry air and sleeping late and ramen and boba and love and friendship now.
i am forever changed.
i am happy.
to be young and free and growing up is the wilderness. we are the wilderness.
"you don't have what it takes to survive the wilderness."
i have explored the wilderness.
today, the explorer and her wild heart are going home.
Justin Zheng Dec 2018
Dear you,

I guess this is an open letter:
wish things could have ended better;

But I guess it's whatever

whatever.

I don't have a set list
I'm just gonna try my best
Limit it to about 4 minutes.



'poetry'

Got my airpods in now
Tryna grind until the end of time
Started with you I guess

True love ain't all about ***
cross my eyes and dot the tears
some wack **** coming from my mind to your ears

your touch got me ****** up
touched my phone took it out and made the call
couldn't control myself because of you

lost all self control; lost my soul


Lost my soul to you
lost it all through you
writing this helps change my views
how can I get through?

push into the obscure
past boundaries, past you

this one's dedicated to you

full stop. get out.
pull over, don't make me shout
r/drama, about to acquire clout.
these words don't make sense when I'm angry.

It's better if I take a breath
And relax
and relax/

Writing is so therapeutic I see
this pen is all i really need.



Man i got some ****** up **** in my head
but i guess thats what this is meant to breed
like, i got bars for days
no worries, i'm okay
gotta share this **** with the world one day.
thanks karthik for being vulnerable
shows that your heart was in trouble
can't even write straight
just gotta do enough
scrape by; get high
no lie i hope this don't die

man i wanna do so much with my life
i wanna graduate from nyu stern
i wanna fly to the moon
i wanna be that man on the moon


Poetry is my Jam
do you Slam?
Chance, man -- I know that man can.
Don't even gotta try
he just gets hella high
he learned how to fly
i Wish we could fly
had vivid dreams.

I wish you well.
not Hell
Because I've been there and back
Bipolar; It broke my back.

Do you hear it in these lines I write?
Powerful emotion; primal thoughts of flight?

We are just chickens, you and I.
Do you ever feel that -- in your mind's eye?
Sometimes we feel like we can fly,
others we feel like we about to die.

Thankful for this voice I've found
finally feels like I'm above ground



*
Being Asian
is difficult I must say
dare I say?

*
Jazz vibes
I feel alright
swimming
into the sky
yes, I could close my eyes
but that'd be detrimental to the write

Long form lines to show you I can write
but who am you and who are I/
Binding two making an eye

Mitosis
vibrosis
nothing rhymes with mitosis

*
can you hear it in the voice with which i write
these primal emotions of flight
do you hear me do you hear me
it sounds like
do re me fa so la dee

or something like that

because sometimes x y z or 1 2 3

numbers and words; their meanings occasionally escape me.

*
like 1 like 2 like 3
what is this life that we;
live in like what you and me
are not even petals on this tree
of life you and me
are but atoms you and me
in this life of grandiosity

minimax do you see
compsci is just the start do you see
the matrix maybe not.

*
thoughts of paranoia plague me
afflicted; like a Zombie

punctuation; time; rhythm; rhymes
couples; words; emotes; I'm fine

Thanks for ******* asuking
like all the ******* time.

*
dawg
sometimes i feel like a baby

i wish i could just close my eyes
and be in peace

a scary thought, yes indeed
but what i really mean is sleep

a restless mind; yes indeed

*
I'm just going off right now;
complete disregard for my health right now;

*
i just got the best sleep of my life;
i lie.

don't worry about me;
i'll be fine

just go back to bed
maybe get some head

jokes, don't even own my own bed
a roofed hobo.

**
I got rhymes all night
yea, you know this **** tight
lemme grab it alright
****** chicken choke this mic

like

aight

it goes ******* on and on
this life of ours, it's an endless song
feels like an infinity ****
hurts when you never belong
the beginning
alex Dec 2018
i left a tear in the pacific
he sang gimme the beat boys
and i slipped out of my heels
imagined the ocean from atop a mountain
the waves had me swaying and weeping
and the salt found its way home
they hung lights over ocean avenue
these city streets and their poetry
have convinced me that home
was never anywhere else
i sat on the edge of the santa monica pier
and i knew
more than i have ever known anything
that i would be back.
southern california has stolen my heart. it can keep it, for what’s it’s worth. santa monica is home, all i need is the house.
alex Dec 2018
the misty skyline at 11am was what did it
there were also the neon lights
flashing a few blocks uphill
the silhouettes of palm trees
and the smell of gasoline and churros
one couple behind me speaking russian
and a group in front speaking spanish
stepping on the stars
and capturing moments in the sky
those big block letters on the mountain
and also the rest of the mountains
the picturesque hanging lights
and dimly lit restaurants
the balconies and the bustling crowds
panhandlers with their money’s worth
and a nighttime energy to die for
but it was the misty skyline at 11am that did it
this truly is the city of angels
and i am among the stars
los angeles, california. i’m having the time of my life. it is so beautiful and breathtaking. it truly was the skyline from the observatory. i love it here.
Bryce Dec 2018
The air is burly
trees harvest soldiers on the line
combines, threads, manure, life--
A whole world lost amidst the flats

Saplings are the next season's
Almonds, Apples, Dates,
Waiting for food shelves and stockrooms
packed in banana boxes and given a place
They will find the plates of capitol city dwellers
They will be engorged far away from their origins

The Sierra-- oh the great plutonic mass
They are grey from age, peppered with white whiskers of snow
They are asking to be known as the interior

Pilgrims who traveled over their spines, seeking these fertile swampland
Now airstrips and dirigibles

The edges of clouds on the valley, the deserts and the mountains like folds of a book
they crackle in the sun and the skin of the earth shrinks in its gaze

Migratory birds dance in the fields, the lowly clang of bell
Bleached american flags tell us this is the land

The land of things and endless breadth

This is only California, but the majesty of it
a gem valley encased by the rocks, in silicates
A roaming place for cows, wanderers, farmers, dreams

Where the only edge of things is the mountains, saying
-Climb me, surmount me, lay me under your deeds-
Chameleon Dec 2018
Man it's gonna **** me if he ever goes back to Cali, to the state that's always warm, where palm trees grow and he doesn't ask me to come with him.
And I have to stay here in Ohio in the state that's mostly cold, where the only thing that grows is loneliness because he didn't ask me to come with him.
Luna Jay Dec 2018
Endless Highway,
Molded Hideaway.
Folded Golden Bay,
Baking in the Sun.
Friendless- my way.
Hold it; Warm Rays
Sold it- For a Rainy Day.
Faking all the Fun.
We often speak of golden land,
That far off room of Summerland.
And smell and see and feel the sun,
Even when the day is done.

We smell the salty air and see
The frothy folds of one dark sea.
who's home is lit by tiny trains
That bravely run outside their lanes.  

We see, and feel a novel hymn,
On the streets we walk by whim.
Peering down the whitewashed halls,
To search for life behind youth's walls.

We feel the freckled face of night,
The highest roof of speckled light,
And even if his breath is cold
This night, the land still shown of gold.

We found the land we wished to see,
Among the warmth of company.
The earth is drear, yet oh so grand,
Is that room of Summerland.
Sam Nov 2018
First California
Next the whole world
The fires grow stronger and stronger
Every single day
Fueling us with as much fear
As we have fueled the fire with oxygen
The world is rottin anyway
Maybe it’s good that we burn
Maybe that’s what we must do
To restore the earth to its former state
We must wipe ourselves out
In order to come back better
Or maybe we shouldn’t come back at all
Maybe we should die
And stay dead
Cause, considering everything happening,
On these horrible days of earth
The human race really does ****
Ugh the whole fire thing started off making me nervous. But now I’m just angry.
Manda Raye Nov 2018
Something about the comfort of autumn—
in California our leaves go straight from green
to gone, if they choose to change at all.
The sun stays bright but the air starts to bite,
and the Santa Anas blow through to dry up
our last drops of livelihood. Most seem to like it—
the streets littered with death and ready to restart—
but the rough winds always hollow me out,
echo a haunting song off the tunnelled walls
of my bones. It’s about this time I empty out,
and fill instead with cotton mouth. My lips chap
and crack, but I smile silently, and I wait.
Next page