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m lang Mar 2023
authenticity. the overwhelming affection from my two tuxedo cats after coming from from a long day from work. my father's love. my mother's embrace. the way poetry makes me feel. my favorite childhood memories with my grandma. the magic my grandpa taught me to believe in as a child. "if you wear these slippers to bed, you'll fly in your dreams." the nostalgia from an old ticket stub. (you loved me then.) trust. the beautiful people i stumbled upon in life that i now call best friends. the ride or die love i give to my friends, and receive from my friends. love. tender love. the kind of love that consumes me, driving me to the point of madness. intuition. heartbreak; a loss that imprints itself into my soul so deeply that it changes the way the world spins around me. kindness. (the authentic kind.) self-awareness. the gentle wear from a well-loved book. co-workers that make those long work days seem shorter. the sun's rays that feed my soul, and my plants. the smell of a rainy morning. the warmth radiating as our bodies intertwine. addiction. irresistible desire. recovery. the feeling of sand between my toes. (the part of me that didn’t die was filled with love.) interrupted silence of the mind. euphoria in a dream like state. the miracle of human experience.

- m lang
3.3.23
Carlyy Sep 2022
I’m on this ship,
A ship for one,
Out at sea,
It’s beautiful yet nerve wracking,
I search and I see where I’m going to be
Optimism is key,
“No. Bad. Thoughts.”
I tell myself, almost constantly,
But it’s just out of my reach...

This anchor is attached to my heart
There it lived.
Then, ripped from my chest,
Leaving my body, weak, pained, dragged,
Into the dark gradient ocean
It lowers, as I twist, wind, and fight,
above sea.

Though, I find myself tired,
At times.
It wins.
It keeps me still.
Can I stay here?
It’s nice in theory...

Sometimes I’m triumphant.
Sometimes I win.
I am above the darkness,
There’s the veil,
I am no longer down there,
I see and hear signs of
Happiness.

So
Close.
Up, I must bring my heart.
Sew up my chest,
Wipe my tears,
More than once,
This cycle is done.
Look ahead,
Go. Forward.
And don’t look back.
But never forget.
i wrote this a long time ago and am just now publishing because i want to let yall know im still alive lol
Zack Ripley Apr 2022
You can't change how people see you.
But you can change how you see yourself.
Zack Ripley Dec 2021
Let me be clear: it will never be easy.
But it can get better.
But only if you give yourself a chance.
A chance to breathe. To grieve.
To love yourself.
To believe that things can get better.
A chance to believe in yourself.
In the end, it does come down to you
to take the first step.
But once you do, take your time.
You have the rest of your life to follow through.
What we learn, and see, then believe,
Is how we live our life each day,
Our life, a maze of situations,
Our thought’s, actions, and ways,
Decide, if we move forward,
Change directions or stay.
Our experiences, from our past,
Along with watching others, work, and play,
Creates, who we are, along with setting up,
Our home where we stay.
We are each on an individual, limited tour,
A piece of this unlimited universe,
Your spirit inside, honest advice, along your way,
My soul remembering, the first Christmas day,
Our savior Jesus Christ, born, animals in the manger,
Sharing their bedding, a bright star, guiding the way,
Everything, peaceful, calm, strangers gathered.,
Listening to feeling, the message, in their souls,
True, positive thoughts, guidance, for all of us,
They were all, lit up, by the guiding light,
Shining on everyone’s, face, a gleam in each eye.
We are losing touch with the true meaning of Christmas.
Still the best wireless communication today,
Lay down your phone, stop and say a prayer,
Thanks for the first Christmas day.

The Original: Tom Maxwell © 12/17/2021AD
Zack Ripley Aug 2021
I've said hello. I've had to say goodbye.
I've said a lot of things in my time.
And I'll say a lot more.
Because you taught me
that what I have to say matters.
And now it's time to share
what I've learned with you.
What you have to say matters.
What you WANT to say matters.
You listened to me.
So, I'm ready to listen to you.
What do you want to say?
Bardo Aug 2021
When I think back now to when I was little (to when I was young)
The words "I love you" I don't think were ever spoken, not in our house anyway (now I could be wrong)
It would have been something silly to say
That was something you'd only hear in a Hollywood movie
Between glamorous movie stars, glamorous people
It wasn't part of our reality
If you were feeling anxious about something and needed comforting
You'd be told not to worry, that you were being silly
You'd be given a hug maybe or 'a treat' something nice
Usually something sweet, a biscuit and a hot cup of sugary tea or cocoa
A chocolate sweet if there were any
You'd be allowed to stay up late and watch the late shows on TV
Me! I was always a terrible worrier just like my Mom
Food most often was the comforter, the soother, the remedy to all
(Some say our relationship with food is the closest relationship we ever have in Life).

Yea! I don't think the words "I love you" were spoken where we grew up
Our parents they loved us as best they could
But they didn't have the words, the words to say it
It was strange...it was almost like they were forbidden to.
Of course, you could love your neighbor alright and your neighbor's neighbor
And your neighbor's neighbors neighbor's neighbor
And all the feckin' neighbors in the whole feckin' world
But the one thing you couldn't, you mustn't do
Was love yourself, this was the Big No No, the Big taboo, the Great Evil
It was the one thing you must never do,
And every Sunday at church, the priest way up on his pulpit
He'd never tire of telling us
How evil and selfish and bad the Self was
And all the bad things it got up to
Yea, your neighbor was always better than you were
Put your neighbor above yourself always
Love your neighbor and you'd be alright
That was the message loud and clear.

                               2

So, so we got treats instead of words of love when we were little
On Friday nights when Dad would come home from work and the pub
He'd always have with him lovely Apple Turnover buns
And a bag of crisps for each of us
And so, we'd all sit there together in the evening in front of the telly
After the maelstrom of the school week with  its lessons and scary teacher
Trying so hard to understand and get your homework done,
And despite all we'd laugh and enjoy the TV shows
And this... this was Love, us all just sitting there with our buns and munching our crisps just watching the TV together
Knowing we belonged and that we were loved kind of...as best they could
And that we had a couple of days off, days of freedom
Before we'd have to go back to school again,
It didn't get any better than this.

And when we'd be going down the country to see our Uncle John
My Dad would always stop off to visit a pub
And he'd get us a Club orange and a packet of crisps
It couldn't get any better than this... this was Love
The lovely sweet taste of that fizzy Club orange juice
And those wonderful salty cheese and onion flavoured (potato) crisps or maybe salt and vinegar flavour
Or later on, lovely smokey bacon flavour,
As we'd sit there Dad would be talking to the barman or some of the locals
But we didn't care what was being said, it didn't matter to us
It didn't get any better than this
This was heaven... this was Bliss.

Sometimes during the summer months before we could get summer jobs
Maybe it'd be raining outside and we'd be stuck indoors and bored
But then Mum would up and say "I know I'll make some chips"
Now Mum's chips were really something special, they'd be lovely big chunky potato chips, hand cut
And maybe she'd have beans in tomato sauce with them,
And maybe there'd be a good film on in the afternoon
Well, this was it, nothing could top that, a good film and a plate of Mum's big chunky chips and beans
Sometimes she'd even make these lovely mince beef pies
With minced beef and flour and onions, salt and pepper on them
And they were really something else
It couldn't get any better than this... and this... this was Love
(I can still remember the kind of meals we ate
And my Mum in the kitchen, and my Dad).

                            3

It's how people grow up in the end I suppose
They find someone inspiring, some teacher or book that makes a strong impression on them (if their lucky)
Or a partner who broadens their horizons, makes them question things and expands their vision of life and all its wondrous possibilities
But what if you don't find those good books, those inspiring teachers
Those voices that'd offer you a better vision of tomorrow and what this life could be
What if you only found bad books, bad books purporting to be good
That'd rob you and leave you lost and desolate, fearful and confused
What if some of your teachers turned out to be alcoholics
That some even done away with themselves
What if the people you met were even more lost than you were yourself...

And you'd go to a job interview and the man, he'd look at you and say
"So, what are your aspirations in Life, what are your values, your goals, where do you see yourself a few years from now ?"
And you'd look back at him blankly, Aspirations! Values! Goals!
What are these words, what's he talking about...
What am I looking for in Life ?
To have some fun I suppose...maybe (if having fun was still legal now as an adult)
Fun!!! Whatever that was now ?
Or to get drunk and stay drunk, escape this grim world I'm in somehow
What am I looking for ?
You tell me...I don't know, what is there
For all I knew I may as well have said
"A Club orange and a packet of crisps".

                              4

Now the faces they have all faded away, the voices too, have all gone
There's only me here alone in this room
It's Friday evening and I've got a readymade dinner from the supermarket
Just need to pop it in the oven for a few minutes
And I got a Dvd from the Dvd store,
So I sit there and eat my dinner, I savour every bite
But still it doesn't last very long
And I can lick my plate but it doesn't make any difference
I can lick it all I like
But I can't make it last, and I can't bring them back again
Those people that are gone;
And the food, it doesn't taste the same, doesn't taste as good as it tasted back then
And the movies too, their not like the ones we used to watch...

When I die it'll probably be like that movie Citizen Kane, at the end his last words "Rosebud"
The name of his beloved childhood sleigh
He used slide on in the snow,
I'll say on my death bed "I too have a memory of Love and Joy, Yea!
A Club orange and a packet of crisps".
A strange write this, life through a foodie's eyes. Another rather melancholy write (or wonderful delicious melancholy write LoL). I love the sad ones, they crack me up every time, take me to deep places within, they take you on a journey. Club orange is a lovely brand of fizzy orange juice over here (like Fanta) and a bag of crisps are potato chips fried wafer thin that'd come in different flavors. Very sugary and very salty and bad for you LoL.
Cheyenne Smith Jun 2021
10) Dreaming

Glancing at the dazzling stars on an enticing Tuesday evening
Looking up at the shimmering stars whilst dreaming
Dreaming of the person I will become
The obstacles I will eventually overcome
My heart is beating as fast as a drum
I aspire to inspire
Helping people to believe they are more precious than sapphire
Zero-knowledge of what lies ahead
My next chapter is still unread
Currently, it feels like you’re trapped in a trial
If you walk around with a smile
You’ll surpass that mile
The wait will be worthwhile
Miriam May 2021
The best is yet to come
If you believe then you can become
Believe in yourself dream big and you can become who you want
Hex May 2021
Slipping free from yester's time,
A Feather trapses yond the way,
On wind it floats, a step, sublime,
Dipping and ducking flakes of grey,
Those forged by winter, the sun's decay,
Plates of ivory, why must they hack?
Torn soil, a relic of why you turn away,
Soar away, O Feather, and don't float back.

O Sea, so fair, shimmering as a chime,
As the wind you switch, and you sway,
And your blues shine like a dime,
But if he drifts beyond the bay,
Will waters claim him, as they say?
Or shall he wash back, with the wrack?
To you, O Sea, he mustn't stray,
Soar away, O Feather, and don't float back.

O Mount, your peak, the rigorous climb,
At your summit, scores kneel and pray,
Your caps glow white, with a grass bed of lime,
If you were where the feather must stay,
Shall your perils bring him fray?
Must he lie in caves of black?
Nay, a feather must fly, and outward he must splay,
Soar away, O Feather, and don't float back.

O Feather, O Feather, where will you spend your days?
Here I must halt on the trail of your track,
Seize the wind, O Feather, the world is your prey,
Soar away, O Feather, and don't float back.
A tale of independence.
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