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Carlo C Gomez Dec 2023
I woke up at angles with you
---a parallelogram, opposite but equal,
my thoughts in constant rotating view
---a diagram, showing us where
our homes are laid to rest,
where streets became dead spiders
caught in their own webs.

If we are in transit via tunnel,
aqueduct, or escalator,
it might be cinema.

If we lose atlas in the worship of light,
it might be cinema.

But I can't find you here;
here, where they used to build ships
from sand and steam
and science fiction;
where they used to design
buildings so as to create
a dissonant and mournful
whistling sound when wind
blew through them
---ostentatious things;
dead people’s things.

Through walls and underneath concrete, dug so deeply
into the wide plains
and withered, gnarled tree roots
of an agonizer's conurbation,
is a space halfway to the zenith,
charting the prescribed power
of in-betweenness.

Never again will we draw meaning from
our proximity to one another.
To the flawlessly
Flawed
And the perfectly
Imperfect
The sharply
Dull
The saddest
Happy
The complicated
Simpleton
The loudest
Quiet
We would be so lost
Finding you
Variety. Someones flaws are beautiful to others
This world...our world , got it's differences..
It held a beautiful statistics..a brilliant geometry of lives..

People sketched, the unnecessary graphs..
in the name of castes , colour , gender , nationality and what not!!
Hence created the ugliest line of division..
about ,who can be the numerator and be above the community line..
and who can be the denominator and live under the poverty line..

Some crafted wealthiest names..while others had to hide their tears under unfinished roofs..
Some  chased for their own rise...while others have to eat the only rotten rice..

Multiplied the division deliberately..
Added up the differences wanting-ly..

We should evaporate the boundaries ,  we drew in our life's charts....
should redefine our lives ,  to decrease the death rates...

Let's choose humanity over cruelty..
Helping over hindering..
Love over hate..

Remember ,we all are alike..
'cause every being has to make their first cry after birth..
'cause every being has it's last breath..
every being has to breathe till death..
every being have to bleed when cut..
Math's creating the difference!!
Science finding the solution..
Humanity is being jailed behind the bars of human's hearts!!!
Glenn Currier Dec 2021
Thinking of my closest relationships
makes me marvel at what a fool I am.
A map of the streams of my loves
would show small settlements
tiny villages where I’ve rested
from my frantic search for meaning -
spaces made by nights of talking and sharing -
spaces of kisses, cries,
shouts and whispers that kept together
the threads we coiled into a chord
of memories.

Memories of foolish leaps we both made
into a friendship, a kinship, a marriage
a co-creation.

What faith abides in me that causes
me to abandon logic for love?
It is a mystery to me
how I can stay in this embrace
despite our divergencies?

But it is a splendid mystery
I celebrate.
I bow to my new friend ruqayyah I met on this website. His poem, “keep your friends close” caused me to write this poem. It is about the trust necessary for close relationships of all kinds. I think of my relationship with my relatives, my friends, my church, my wife. All of these are based on some degree of trust.
Francie Lynch Oct 2021
A once dear friend
And I met up;
Twenty years since we spoke,
And neither one could talk.
We left each other's company
On terms of disagreement.

The ice was thick;
The air was clouded;
We stood beneath the shade.

The mountain didn't fall;
The earth didn't swallow;
The roof stayed on.
Nothing cracked our uncertainty.

Then we misquoted some old
Misunderstood memories
Of why we went our ways.
And felt the same.
Kim Sep 2021
Is it where you come from that matters?
Is it your history, your line of descent?
Do they really know you, they chatter
Would they sit down with your friends
Where do you come from they ask
What is your story they say
Will you do away with your mask
Let them know you if they may

What went before doesn’t matter
Only the present counts
It’s a fresh start you barter
For your past in the ground
But when it comes down to it
They still want to know
Where did you come from
Where will you go

You choose your own fate
Your life is in your hands
Your future’s for you to make
You’re not bound to the land
Let them know you by your deeds
By your words and by your song
Do they need to trace your feet
To know where you belong?

What is a reputation -
But a binding rope
No leeway to stumble
For it’s a slippery *****
If the days gone by are to colour
Every speech and action
Where is the scope to discover?
Aren’t our lives but a fraction -
Of what they could be
If we believed we were free
To set forth and make waves
Or float along with the sea

But then again you may say -
Do people really change?
Can they let go of the hate -
Washed clean by the rain?
And can we trust someone who lays
No claim to yesterday -
For whom nothing can vouch
But the words of their mouth?
If one is constantly changing -
Then where does one stand?
How can the others trust you -
How can they shake your hand?
Is trust merely an illusion
We conjure up for ourselves -
To alleviate the confusion
To put reason on the shelf?
One day we all must choose
When there is much to lose
Whether to cling to the family tree
Or take flight and be free

Those you grow up with are forever
They’re the ones you never leave
Where you came from is your start
The first page of your story
But it can’t tie you down
It can’t hold you back
You mustn’t be afraid
For in the attack
They may have the armour of the known
And the weapons of their forebears
But you will have freedom
And an army of your brothers
Your brothers in thought
And ideals and humanity
Your sisters with whom you fought
The winds of disparity

So I suppose what I’m saying is
The only story worth telling
Is the one that unfolds
In the final reckoning
This is an old one, posted here a few years ago. Made a slight edit. Thought it was more relevant than ever so decided to repost.
Em MacKenzie Aug 2021
Some people listen to hear,
and some listen to respond.

Some people talk to be heard,
and some talk because they can’t stand the silence.
Meaningless meaningful conversations
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