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Austin Morrison Nov 2024
To my younger self,
You’re probably skating through the streets,
Wheels humming like a heartbeat,
Lost in the rush of wind and freedom.
Keep that feeling close—it doesn’t fade.
Not everything needs to.
I’m doing okay, believe it or not.
No, I’m not the artist or the adventurer you dreamed of,
But I’ve found a place,
A job that isn’t perfect but offers a path,
Even if it’s not the one we mapped out.
And guess what?
The games still bring joy,
The same crew still laughing, still losing hours
To worlds that feel bigger than this one.
It’s okay to stay young,
To carry the fire of your wild ideas.
There’s no clock chasing you,
No race to be someone else’s version of grown.
Breathe.
Things move forward, even when they hurt.


But now to you, my future self—
I have to confess something.
That comfort I just offered? It’s a half-truth.
Right now, it’s hard.
Harder than I let the past know.
The days blur,
And the nights are loud with questions
I can’t seem to answer.
I want to ask you what to do—
What path to take, what risk to make—
But I already know your answer:
Keep going.
It’s the only advice we’ve ever trusted, isn’t it?
I don’t know what you will look like,
If the years have been kind to your reflection Or just heavier in their weight.
I don’t know where you stand,
What city, what job, what life you’ll claim as your own.
But I do know this:
No matter how lost I feel,
No matter how hard it gets,
I’ll keep trying, keep pushing.
Not for the world,
Not even for the past me
But for you.
So that one day,
You’ll look back and know
I did my best to get us here.
Yours,
The in-between,
The uncertain,
The still-trying.
Ejiro Nov 2024
If you want to live in the past
then so be it then
but I want to let you know a few things
you can continue dwelling inside a past life with people
that made you feel at home
but those people that were apart of your past
are not there anymore
they are now in the present
and who knows
maybe they’ll be in the future next
the only thing left in your past
is just memories
with some cut-out holes in between
so if you want to go back
then go ahead and be my guest
once you finally go back there
the only thing waiting for you there
is just cut-out holes
echoing pure silence
Jamie Henderson Nov 2024
I long for the future,
but the future thinks not,
for the future desires only
to betray and delay expectations
and youthful desires.
It relishes in disappointing
its once promising appearance.
Or perhaps my hatred is misplaced
and the blame isn’t on the future itself
but the people within:
a list of names whose hearts
are made of gunpowder and minds
think only to pull triggers and press buttons,
because that is the future we are given;
an execution of human rights.
Viktoriia Nov 2024
some of the best things we create
are meant for others to explore.
we grow too fast, we learn too late,
we leave before the curtain call.
and in the end all that we've made
turns into words, engraved in stone.
some of the best things we create
will only matter once we're gone.
Amanda Kay Burke Nov 2024
Do colors seem pastel through eyes?
Yellow sunshine overhead
I wonder if hues would still appear bright
If your property instead..

It could've stopped escalating
Long long long ago
No quantity of ******* in the universe
Will stop from feeling hollow

I'm sure ways exist to justify
Type of behavior I hate
Perception of surroundings is so skewed
Probably think it looks great

Why would tidiness matter to you?
Not like the lot is in your name
I am the one forced to deal with consequences
You are the one to blame

It is obvious to any rational mind
Discipline is way past due
No longer willing to ignore the signs
The problem is linked to you

You distinctly do not give a **** about our feelings
Otherwise wouldn't have even begun
Now your hoarding is so out of hand
Don't recognize what land has become

I suppose that is what we get for our kindness
Foolishness leading us here
No good deed unpunished
If nothing else that much is clear

This destiny avoidable
Would have been easy to just say no
Generosity in our nature
Had no clue collection would grow

Don't comprehend how people live
In such a state of disarray
Chaos utterly consuming all around
Convinced carnage completely okay

I would have never guessed a human being
Could be so disastrous by design
Have been too lenient but now
It is about time we draw the line

We offered a chance to change outcome
Still carry on making a mess
Zero guilt or remorse displayed
This is what you call "trying your best"

The stress getting heavier
Longer we allow mayhem to go on
Most ******-up part is I suspect you believe
Truly aren't doing anything wrong

Maybe seek professional help
Only suggesting because I care
Anyone with some degree of mental stability
Of disorder would be aware

So you either are totally insane
Or taking advantage of our big hearts
Regardless something has to give
Before each vehicle there is in parts

The blatant disrespect overwhelming
Allow an inch and you take a mile
Only solution I can figure out
Has been coming awhile

Our patience wearing for months
Finally it has broken through
After the ******* we've tolerated
What do you expect us to do?

Just let you persist in accumulating junk?
As if deed to there is your own?
Until entire acre is swallowed up
And gone is beautiful location once-known

You have already inflicted a huge excess
Of destruction that can't be reversed
Acting entitled to anything there
Helping yourself without inquiring first

When you first parked bus we were misled
Under impression it was a temporary situation
Fact that your habitat keeps expanding
Expresses this is more than only a vacation

Are you even seeking somewhere else
To store belongings and dwell?
From where I'm standing it appears
You revel in making lives hell

Trash scattered in corners
Gets worse as you round each next turn
Are you that lazy and careless?
You can't put in one place and burn?

You disassemble things for no reason
If unbroken you tear it in pieces
Never reconstructing the objects you ruin
All the while cache increases

If not halted the amount will proceed growing
Until visible from space
I'd like to admit you are capable
Sadly that is not the case

Not to mention attention drawn
From law enforcement appearing there
Responding from neighbor's calls
Epitomizing our worst nightmare

The two properties connected by owner
Labels us negatively for sure
Positive cops are just awaiting the opportunity
To obtain warrant to search our house once more

Yet doesn't bother you at all
If so you'd minimize risk
Not use grow light to illuminate
And litter public street and ditch

And in the aftermath of these awful actions
Don't apologize for mistakes
Enough is enough
Party is over
Only so much we can take

It's your moment to float along to different shores
A destination new
Feeling physically ill every visit
Welcome is outworn-please shoo!

Half of me honestly fully fed up
Other side weakened by sympathy
I fear if I continue to endure treatment
You will simply walk all over me

And when finally you do move on
Left with an unholy mess
Which will cause a meltdown
Imploding from distress

So I kindly ask you hit the road
Commence process at once
Should have evicted weeks ago
That's not what any of us really want

I hope you don't interpret as declaration of war
You've become used to this "paradise"
Wouldn't have minded you staying here
If you kept it looking nice

But your indiscreet disregard for our disapproval
Has us craving distance badly
For our sanity's sake
You're too selfish sadly

This doesn't mean we don't like you
Loathe the position we're in
Wish we also could embrace the anarchy
Our essence is lacking the echoes within

If there was compromise to be discovered
Wouldn't plead for you to leave
Our standards are so drastically different
Insists harmony impossible to achieve

We often have people abuse our compassion
Silence disrupted only when too much to bear
After being disappointed over and over
Of shadows we should be aware

But within our core care more than we should
Inner voice whispering "they'll have nowhere to go"
If your intention was to carry on residing there
You would have improvement instead of negligence to show

We've idled for months while you should have cleaned up
Take one step forward than two right back
It's evident you won't come to your senses
Perhaps we've cut you a bit too much slack

Now forced to gather belongings
Pick garbage up off the ground
Don't want air to be cold between us
Still don't mind you coming around

I tried hard to be gentle
To my heart I must remain true
Only way to salvage my future home
Is stop you before damage is too bad to undo
about a couple friends of my dad's that he let stay on our other property which is supposed to be mine when he deems me responsible enough to have it in my name and they just completely trashed the place. They are quite possibly the worst hoarders I have ever met and I am not even exaggerating. They could be on an episode of Hoarders no joke. I wrote this as a kind of eviction notice but I never gave it to them because they started moving their **** thank God but I have a feeling I'm going to be left with a bunch of ******* to clean up after they are completely moved out...
Àŧùl Nov 2024
Some day,
We'll meet.
And that day,
You'll tell me,
"Wish we didn't break apart."

Even today, I search for true love,
But it's elusive like the golden swan.
Even today, I look for it under the trees,
I look for it on the roads and in the parks,
"Wish we didn't grow apart."

It was just an instance of rudeness,
They tell me that I should've been mature.
Maturity, is it gained when you lose your identity,
Or when you stop reacting and start responding?
"Wish you hadn't left such scorny remarks."

I have braved hellish fires,
In you, I sought some balm.
You could've applied it soothingly,
But you left remarks so disparagingly,
"Wish I still could've been mature, and not reacted."

Someday, we might meet again,
You'll finally mature enough...
That day, you’ll understand my pain,
Yes, I hope you'll not be so rough,
"Wish that day comes soon enough."

Babe, I felt warm things for you,
But your remarks—me they burned.
Babe, I had plans for the future,
But you, typical Y2K generation,
"Wish future existed for you too."

The future can be changed,
It can be accurately predicted.
Everyone was happy—everyone but you,
Babe, you should've told your mom beforehand,
"I don't want to waste my youth on the middle-aged man."

This is the futility of my feelings,
They don't matter, because I'm a man.
All my successes, they are insignificant,
They are engulfed in the quality of being effervescent,
"For there are many more younger timely successful men."

Nobody reads any of my novels,
I may have went through a lot.
But I'm turning 34 in 36 days,
I've missed the bus, I'm late.
"And nothing else matters."

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡
My HP Poem #2028
©Atul Kaushal
Sam Nov 2024
I am but a tiny speck on this spinning sphere-
a fractured fragment from its soil-
echoing my name into the fabric it's been made of.
With chalk I mark my tomorrows.
My place,
yours too,
among the giants in the universe
is right here:
where the shared humanity
pulses through earths veins.
Ken Pepiton Nov 2024
Episteme
Contingency
Emperical Premise
Take a day to live in
Essential State Locus
of Self,
I being
I thinking you must be
for me
to think
of giving you
a piece
of my mind, thinking out being

existing, ist, nicht wahr, amness

I am as ware as any that wars
have never made things better,
Armegeddon fought by volunteers,

shall not be the final solution haters hope.

if this line exists, then you
have existence, here, and now,
in my past and your present, per

haps in process
of happening,
let using letting, let us presume
truth is discernible taken as being,

what is, is true, what isn't, isn't
truly imaginable
in and of itself,
having no being manifestly true.

Where as it has been said,
a word to the wise is enough.
AI amusement, imagining today from long ago, Watching Steve Jobs, manifest.
We live in 1984's better future, and it is rotting... as all old knowledge trees must.
Jack Groundhog Nov 2024
Some days on back I sat on a pub’s oak stool
and drew in the musty smell of its past,
its scent of old leather and spilled beer that pooled
under the floorboards in a sticky mass.

An old man came in and pulled up a chair
and he scratched at his stubbly beard.
His grey eyes had fixed me in a granite stare
and rumbled ‘til his raspy throat cleared.

He said, “The word ‘nostalgia’ comes from Greek stems.
It means the pain of homecoming.
We look to the past through a cataract lens
at a ‘home’ that’s made out of nothing.”

I asked, “You can’t go back to your home again?”
He shook his head, a woolen wisp of a sigh.
“That home exists in the land of pretend,”
he softly exhaled in laconic reply.

And then he stood and slipped away home
while the strains of “Jerusalem” played.
I sat in my cloud of memories alone,
from fog emerged in the present to stay.
Morgan Howard Nov 2024
I hope the reflection in my mirror
Is happy
I hope she has lots of friends
And that she smiles with her eyes

I hope the reflection in my mirror
Knows she's worthy
I hope she doesn't lay in bed
For hours at a time
Sad and unmotivated

I hope the reflection in my mirror
Is confident
I hope she is brave enough
To start a conversation
And that she isn't too scared
To leave her home

I hope the reflection in my mirror
Never gives up
I hope that she can see
A future for herself
And that she never loses hope in me
Because I haven't lost hope in her
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