Although it pains me to know it,
     i’m no poet.  
The words I love-come to me lucid as a-
Dream
An ineffable messenger
not angry, or
     perhaps so, in the moments when I fail me.
     But!
This prognosticator led me--
     believe or don’t
to believe in and trust in the mingling of
Souls.

Com·mu·ni·ty
/kə'myoonədē/
noun
1. A group of people living in the same place or having a particular characteristic in common.
synonyms: group, body, clique, faction

How do you define your community? Does it fit this definition?

My roots run deep in this town.
We have been here too long, yet not long enough.
We all grew up here and everyone knows everyone, but I do not know my neighbors name.
I think that is the problem with this day and age.
The word community has taken on a new meaning.
It tastes sour in our mouths when we say it because it is lost all sense of direction.
We say we seek community, yet it is in small groups, of those we deem worthy and fitting.
We let the homeless and the jobless slip through the cracks.
A tiny town filled with tiny lives.
Lives that are only important to ourselves, yet that is enough.
No one cares about anyone who does not benefit our own importance.
We are a broken people, a fractured community of lost souls searching for individual places in a too small world.  
We feel infinite, but our names have already been forgotten.
Despite our brokenness, our ripped and damaged edges, we are beautiful.
-M

Community,
they told me I
I was a part of it,
that I must comply.


We’re told to comply
in the way we speak,
in the way we interact,
in the way we feel.
Those who oppose,
those who stand
for a transcendental nature
are fitted with the title
of an Outcast.


An Outcast: A person
deemed unfit to live
amongst the classiest
of society. It’s a title
given out by the Elites.
They give out a title
under the predicate of a
falsehood and the personal
perpetual facade of laziness.
I am neither.


I am in the world, yet I am
somewhere that isn't Earth.
I am here, but I am not.
I exist, but my mind, my
opinions become a blur.


My mobility becomes a leisure,
and my leisure becomes my labor;
My labor becomes my profession;
My profession beholds my title.
I roam in the society casted by the
Elites, but I am merely a chess piece
to their game.


I am not an Outcast, I am not an Elite.
I am the class of the inbetween.
I am the silenced voice.
I am the history that’s repeated,
I am not a part of the community.
I am of the voices that
are disregarded.

Stevie Wonder said it wonderfully
Ebony and Ivory.....
We should look to the piano
As an example
Of the beauty we can create
When we look past bias and race
And work together in harmony
Our heights would be limitless
There are no stars we couldn’t reach
For together is community
Walking hand in hand
Would create a bond
Impossible to breach

- Diangelo Tyler

when you're a part of something
it can feel amazing
everyone is so close together
everyone has a hand when another falls
and everyone is nearby to hear your call

but
sometimes there's a corrupt little bug
spreading its corrupt little drug
of negativity

and because we're all so close together
it's a ripple effect of mass proportions
and because we all feel together
we know
when someone almost dies.

Home

Some people can recognize
A tree or a front yard
and know
they've made it home

The walk from the car door
To the front porch
Becomes habitual
Instead of intentional
They get lost in the
Contentment of familiarity

But what happens when you
find yourself
So adrift, so off-course
That you've worn a path in the circle you find yourself walking in

What if the place you're looking for,
Your home
Was never really home After all

But rather a false sense of security
Wrapped up
In a pretty pink ribbon
On top of the layers
Of gripping manipulation

How many circles can I walk in
Before I give up looking?
How long before I'm lost for good?

Home for me
Is not the familiar walk
To the front door
Or the yard with overgrown grass
that makes weeds look like bushes

Home is a sea of senses
Blending together in perfect harmony

Home is walking in
And seeing red
Red skillet
Red chair
And my favorite redheads

Home is the smell of
Fancy hand soap
Fresh laundry
Fragrant candles
And farty brussel sprouts

Home is the first sound you hear
A chuckle
A musical
The clearing of a throat
Our favorite tv show

Home
In a nutshell
Is freedom

Freedom to laugh
To cry
Or maybe both at the same time
To yell and to vent
Without the burden of shame
Or regret

So home
You see, is more
Than the tree
Or the porch

Those things could vanish
And leave you stranded

Home is laughter
And friendship
That won't leave you lost

It is safety and belonging
That says
“You are okay”

It is the weight of a burden being Lifted off your shoulders
Home is love