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Lake Jul 2019
you were in my dreams
caught in tractor beams
i don't know what it means
i can't tell lately
my answer's maybe
maybe i'm insane
do you feel the same

how do i describe
the things in my mind
or is it my heart
oh, how do i start

i wasn't prepared
part of me's scared
to be out in the blue
to be something new

and so i have changed
broken from the frame
where do i begin
starting from my dreams
Nicole Nov 2018
My chest aches
As tears threaten the corners of

My eyes

They're dry
Like the wind
She really damaged me

Y'know

I don't like to admit it
I'd rather just hide

The scars

Are red from scathing acid
It's not like you can see them
She didn't hit me

Afterall

We went through a lot
That's what we said

Back then

She told them
She might love

Only me

She never told
She never showed it either
I knew I loved her

More

Or less she admitted it
It feels like a curse
The people I deeply

Love

Others, too or more
Which could be fine with him
If it weren't for

Her

Inability to carry out
Multiple relationships
Or at least to care about what

I felt

Alone and abandoned
Unloved and unworthy
To her I wasn't

Apparently

She loved me more
I don't care that she never told me
Just that

She never showed me

Lasting love or compassion
Never proved that poly works
And then poly came up again

With him

I'm sad about it
The idea makes me feel broken
I'm so sorry
I don't want poly
The structure of this piece is intended so that the single lines are utilized twice, both for the line before it and for the one after it.

Polyamory was really freeing for me at one point, but then it hurt a lot. I know poly can work, but, as of right now, I am actively choosing monogamy. I feel bad for not giving my partner the chance to experience poly with me, but I am not ready.
Lake Jul 2019
I think I missed my train
I must've overslept
Just waiting in the rain
Zero promises kept

From station to station
They all looked the same
From faces to faces
I lost track of names

I can't tell the time
What's wrong with my mind
Am I left behind
I thought I was fine

If nothing changes
Then is it me or you
To get to places
What will I have to do
Robyn Little Jul 2019
I am not sure what to write about Change

              What changes could I possibly mention?

The way your legs change to blue even if you wrap them up with care?

Or the way you best pray that on a particular icy day you don’t run out of underwear?

The way your nose will turn pink and numb and we will start to hurry through our exchanges

Because the more we don’t talk, the sooner we can get to warm and secluded places

Where we can’t be bothered by hustle and bustle, where we can use the cold as reasoning

                   As to why getting out of bed is a hassle

Later in the year, the orange will turn to green, for those with allergies our throats will clear

And the sun will cause our skin to singe, will cause our dairy treats to melt and ruin our binge

But for some of us, the cold leaves with our excuse for privacy and voices hit like the heat

                             ‘Come outside!’ they cry

                             ‘We never see you anymore!’

But you’re afraid to step into the sun, afraid to feel the burn, no matter how much you want to

Because your legs may freeze and your nose may turn pink in the cold

But the panic in your chest when faced with a warm laughing world is far too old

This is most likely not what you expected when you asked me about Change

But I’m afraid we’ve spoken too long so leave me alone in my chosen cage
Fun Fact - This was the poem that won me my college's poetry competition.
Nat Lipstadt Jul 2019
Nostalgia April 2015

Greek for “the pain from an old wound”


~~~


time changes words,
the origin-rawest meaning,
oft too harsh and
thus re-sweetened,
moderated for modern
sensitized sensibilities,
no offending anybody anytime

par example,

awesome

was
fearful, terrifying,
alas, now plaster recast,
merely a
junk food word,
a billions times hamburger oversold,
poor little word,
misunderstood,
abused,
clearly, nowadays not
awestruck
by its awesome
past historical
usage

nostalgia

is not a photograph-word
for framing,
in old fashioned sepia colored hazes,
look-backs with
no risks in attendance.
a minor case of
a wistful heart
edged perhaps burnt,
but imagery intact,
always
somewhat sweet,
somewhat sad,
perhaps at worst,
bittersweet

Crap

let me roar now
my anger,
let me vent
mea veritas primogenius

the awesomeness
of the hurts
borne from
ancient lives that I escaped
but yet empowered
to let

nostalgia

make the hate,

the pain from old wounds
refreshed, re-reddened,
living, extant,
wounds forty years young

from places
where a woman hurt me,
hurt me willfully
thus permanent provisioned,
nostalgia is
a daily pill
of accumulated memories
of misuse,
she,
evil calculating so...

take that AM pill
for
maximum hurt,
can only be swallowed dry

weak,
like a Greek
God,
who were
more human than humans,
tag me enraged,
un-gauged,
no
measure of measure
for me,
bitter herbs,
a morning's mourning
potent sweet potion


~~~

in this place,
poem
prior confessed lovingly
an amiable self-pleasuring
an artifice,
enjoyed,
deconstructing words
for hidden meanings^

this a pean pain penned,
truly
an old fashioned bittersweet
sepia colored, burnt caramel colored
rage

this is not
your mother's
the-modern-nostalgic

recalled with
mixture of the painful pleasure
of
no forgiving the sins of
omission of a father,
who could not love openly,
or
the sins of sons,
in turn equally
guilty
of an
insufficiently telling his
pop,
I love you plain
vanilla simple,
regret for love not well
spent}

but this is not the truth of
nostalgia,

just plain regret
of acts of love
not demonstrated
~~~~
this poem,
this day,,
this pain enraged,
old wounds enflamed,
how I gave up to misery
the better part of a life

This is Nostalgia
in its ancient usage
and God help me,
should I ever see her,
I will school her
in the sourced origins of words

Greek algos, pain

and tell her
she sourced me
hell well,
four decades
make me unashamed
to say on this planet,
there are those
even good ole
Natty
will never
forget/forgive
only recall with the
summation of
nostalgic pain,
wounds still
draining
dedicated to my ex.
^see my poem
(I love) Dignity,
hi Jun 2019
I was six when we used to play fairy
The unknown didn’t even bother me,
I went along with the rhythm
The neighborhood was my kingdom
The front yard was my palace
And nothing has malice.

We used to play pretends
Along with friends, without stupid trends
Worlds of magic and fantasy,
Flashily, randomly, valiantly, yet on rhapsody.
We made up spells and slayed dragons.
Years later, we had our own battles.

We looked at each other and all they think about is ***
All they do now is flex
Milktea, Sampgyupsal, Iphone X
Everybody now is an object of what's next.
Those things that should be treasured forever,
I wonder if they still remember.

Remember how the cold breeze of Christmas mixed well in December,
How "Ber Months" was welcomed by September,
How happy it was to do trick or treats at November
When celebrations meant for every family member to be together.
People forgot so fast like it was plaque,
No one even tried to be awake.

Kids these days will never understand
The heat of afternoon I withstand
To play "Patintero", "Garter" and "Piko"
How we chased "Binatog" and "Taho"
To have our bare foot at the heat or wet ground
With ignorance at our feet, we had the world as our playground.

All I seen in social media is words,
Words of people who wants likes and hearts.
I guess only few remember,
How good it was when we were younger.
Ignorance was bliss
When did we become like this?
I've read a poem here entitled "Ignorance was Bliss" so I decided to make my own version. No plagiarism intended, full credits to the rightful owner of the idea, unfortunately I can't find the poem anymore and I can't give proper credits.
Kate Jun 2019
My childhood house
has been ruined in a cheap remodel

I spent
15 years in that bedroom
hiding and hoping
to disappear

It worked -
now there's no trace of us left at all

Me and that room, both
far too small
(for what I was to become)

That sunroom-turned-hideout
has all it's guts on display
the red wires sparkling
in the light of day

The space it once held (for me)
a cavern of power, open now
adds itself to the lounge
creating space for others
Am I one with this room?

The fire that kept my wall warm in winter,
has been ripped apart

Gone with it,
the hole in the back of the chimney
where I had a cupboard for keeping rocks
The same cupboard
That wouldn't close
Even when jammed with books
Jammed close, because,
I feared I was watched through the crack
by some mysterious force
maybe even the whole world
in on it all

Gone;
is the laundry that Dad used as a darkroom
(his own hideaway)
the red lamp: a signal burning bright
summoning us to join his cause
Or be left behind

Gone;
is the hall door that was slammed for effect
Slammed over and over in a war that still wages on
Gone;
is the cube shower with the folding door
a place to cry without any sign
Gone;
Is the multi coloured lupins I planted in '96
hoping they would overtake all of the other ground
saying that YES I was here
and YES I was real
In.the.dirt.

But Dad is happy the Apple tree remains.
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