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Anais Vionet Mar 26
1am
It’s one in the morning.
I zoomed into Lisa’s room
and threw myself on the bed where she lay reading
in a near virtuoso, Fosbury flop.
She bounced, jostled by my mechanical bed wave.
“I hate goodbyes,” I said, indignantly.
“You’re not strong on hellos” she said, not looking up.
“They’re so bone-marrow deep,” I went on, “they steal hope away.”
“Did that sound pretentious?” I asked her silence, a minute later, somewhat self-consciously.
Lisa took the yellow, #2-pencil out of her mouth—just long enough to answer.
When she studies, she chews on them, seemingly eating them like french fries.
“Yeah,” she says, “but I get cha.”
“I know,” I said, smiling at the ceiling, because in a rooted and real way, she always has.
I’d be a different person if we’d never met.
I feel very grateful for that.
“Your boy’s flown?” She asked, using her pencil to hold her page and finally looking up.
It was an ironic, near-rhetorical question, she knows he’s gone and she knows I know she knows he’s gone.
“Yeah,” I admitted.
.
.
Songs for this:
4am by girl in red
Don't Stop The Music by Rihanna
blushing! by BETWEEN FRIENDS
BLT Merriam Webster word of the day challenge 01/19/25:
Virtuoso = someone who can perform very skillfully
Grey Mar 1
From a crosswalk

Everything is sidelined

Not focused

Bruised up,
They focused on the bruises

I said she needed empathy

Justice for what she's going through

But as I mulled it over

They could be wrong

But I could be more wrong

Being a neutral spectator

Isn't entirely bad

But hey!How are u doing?

Could fix a whole lot

But neither of us did that

Because its a crosswalk
Zywa Feb 23
The talking falters,

that's why I burn poplar wood --


that always crackles.
Novel "Onder de korenmaat" ("Under the bushel", 1991, Maarten 't Hart), chapter 4

Collection "The Note Tree"
Zywa Feb 17
Phone call: pieces of

sentences alternately --


pasted together.
Composition "Telephone" (2014, Kate Moore), for two trumpets, composed for the 75th birthday of Louis Andriessen, performed by Tom Sanderman (saxophone) and Annette Schenk (clarinet) of the Herz Ensemble in the Organpark on February 14th, 2025

Collection "org anp ARK" #96
Man Feb 15
You guys really messed up that message-
Do you have the postage? Addresses?

The records & reports
For what you purport?
Are all the passages
Just rewritten, or
Pages overwritten?
Perhaps overlooked?

No longer properly understood?

Is the truth lurking out there,
Somewhere?
Buried under heaps of rubble,
Covered by mud & dirt.

Wipe the muck off.

Through the weeds & brush,
Thorn & thrush,
Slash the vine & burn the bush;
Get looking.
Cyril Jan 17
I will never know whether it's meant as praise or disapproval when friends tell me I'm being too transparent.
Conversations over coffee leave me wondering if they’ve ever truly known love—the kind that leaves you vulnerable.

Maybe they haven't grasped how terrifying it is to be misunderstood,
To deliver the wrong message,
To drop hints, only to have them left unexplored by someone too direct to see their meaning

Have they realized how a hint of opacity can blur everything, turning what was once clear into something unrecognizable?
How a single careless moment
or a slip of the tongue can lead to loss?

Isn't it a greater shame to leave everything to fate,
To let life unfold without intention?

In their eyes, am I foolish or brave?
Nonetheless, all I know is that pride is a heavy weight.
So I say;

I can only breathe when my words are laid bare,
Stripped of pretense and hesitation.
There is something freeing in that honesty, something necessary.
I love when I love,
Why hold back?
Malia Jan 14
“Thanks for asking, but 𝑰
am fine, just a little tired.
𝑪𝒂𝒏’𝒕 complain, you know?
Everybody gets a bit
stressed sometimes, what with
all that we’ve got to 𝒅𝒐.
It’s not like 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 is any different
than any other day, any other person.
𝑺𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒃𝒐𝒅𝒚 somewhere has it far
worse than I do, so don’t feel sorry
for me. No, 𝒔𝒂𝒗𝒆 your compassion
for a person who really needs it, not
𝒎𝒆.”
a cry for help is often hidden in plain sight. reread. relisten. you might find something you didn’t see before.
It's a nice day in Paris,
A chilly afternoon.
At a tourist cafe,
With an Italian Painter,
Chatting about the French language.
"Why would you write about Dan's Amour?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well it's Dan's thing, seems personal to him."
"No, no, I wrote about dans amour."
"Yes that's what I said, Dan's Amour!"
Sigh
Another poem painting onto the world of, "The Gray Man Of Paris," I like these little light hearted ones.
Aires Jan 3
In this busy days,
I forgotten you.
But today let me ask you something,
Do you like him?
Because I don't.
......
(Smile)
I thought, you would ask me about our whereabouts.(Silence)
I like his voice maybe eyes too,.
Maybe smile,that's all.
But, I don't like him!
(Lie).
Sometimes you love but it hard accept
That may leads to forgetting yourself.
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