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laura Feb 2022
I look out my bedroom window
and I see the church
that has lost its steeple
in a bad storm.
This is my home.

I look out my bedroom window
and I see the basketball hoop
where countless people
have attempted its rim.
This is my home.

I look out my bedroom window
and I see the soccer goal
where many hours of games have taken place
and I see the dented garage behind it from our many failed shots.
This is my home.

I look out my bedroom window
and I see the stump
from the tree that stood outside our house
for many years.
This is my home.

I look out my bedroom window
and see the tiny little sandbox
where we would play for hours
while Mom would sit in her chair and read.
This is my home.

I look out my bedroom window
and see the holes in the ground
where our swingset used to be and where
hours were spent pretending the ground was lava.
This is my home.

I look out my bedroom window
and I see the tiny slide
that we would slide down into the mini pool
as we were having the time of our lives.
This is my home.

I look out my bedroom window
and I see the burn pile
where we always said we’d have bonfires
but we hardly ever did.
This is my home.

Thinking back on all of this,
so much nostalgia rushes to me
and so many memories
come flooding back.

In reality, this isn’t my home
and this isn’t my bedroom window.
All of these views
are now being enjoyed
by another little girl,
just as I once was.

No matter where I go in life
I will never forget
the special memories
from my childhood home.

I’m thankful for my childhood
and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
I’m thankful for the people
and I’m thankful for the places I got to go.
No matter what’s in store for me
and where life takes me,
Michigan will always be my home.
Lily Jun 2021
girls like you
deserve a love that
always feels
like summer,
a love that
sings like waves against the sand
feels like freckles and anklet tanlines
smells like sunscreen and
Mackinac Island Fudge
dripping down your chin—
a love that never ends
like those rays of sun that
spray over Lake Michigan
and tickle heaven.
you part your lips
to speak and
just like that
my world
dipping and twisting
like a kite in the sky
flowing freely like
your baby hairs coming
out of your braid,
like your laugh as it
echoes down the
quiet shoreline,
around the chambers
of my soul.
girls like you
deserve a love that
always feels
like summer—
I pray that
your summer
never ends.
happy summer everyone! <3
Sipping on that juice
You are tripping
Screaming and laughing all at once
I'm flying getting my game on
Mystifying you be wearing your *** kicking boots
Smoking one, putting that roach in a jar
Popping vicodin  just to stay alive
Not even sure if I exist
Selling Adderall's so the ******* can stay skinny
Sweet little boy shot down on his big wheel bike
All I can do is grab the mic and send the message on
People on the street begging for money for addictions
******* **** just to get high
What if that was your daughter?
Hoping the soup kitchen is open
Do they have a empty bed for me to sleep tonight
Dressing in color
It's a true story this town is in demise
The water is not even safe to drink
Lake Huron to the Flint river
The town showing no love
Then Rick Snyder declares a state of emergency
The first person to come forward Sasha Bell
Was found murdered in her home as her small one year old son was left to roam
She had a law suit against the Flint water crisis
She is now silenced a baby without a mother
Nobody is winning here
90 people were sickened from exposer 12 died    
Delivering  bottle water to Veteran's, as they are losing there homes
People who have worked there whole lives
People just trying to survive
I grew up in lower Michigan and my family and friends are directly effected by the water crisis. .I know the town is a mess. The crime rate the shootings of innocent people/ I would love to see Flint be what I remember as a child.
Haylin Sep 2020
2/5/09 - The day I lost my best friend (Grandpa)
7/?/12 - Moved in with dad
12/11/16 - Tried to KMS
9/16/17 - The day my dad and stepmom got married
4/3/18 - Started dating my boyfriend
6/19/18 - The day my dad gave me up and kicked me out
6/23/19 - Day my uncle died. He never gave up on me
10/3/19 - My best friend died(Grandma)
12/9/19 - The day I broke up with my boyfriend

New: 3/13/20 - Moved states
New: 7/21/20- Moved schools
Kanishka Jun 2020
All of this feels strange and untrue,
but here I'm am in Chicago winters with you.
Where windows oversee the frozen lake
And snow glows on streets at daybreak,
As we sit in front of the fireplace,
blankets covering us as on your
arm I lay my face.
From now on I'm gonna write about places I wanna travel once Corona fades.
Lily May 2020
I am on Mackinac Island,
Lying down on a big white lawn chair
In front of the Grand Hotel.  
The faint scent of fudge
Lingers on the air so I can almost taste it,
And my hair is getting constantly blown
By the wind that flows among the
Chairs, grass, and music.  
The music comes from the direction of the water,
Where an old style jazz band has
Temporarily set up shop,
Creating gorgeous silhouettes
Against the orange and pink sunset sky.  
The purring of the clarinet
Bounces off of me like the waves are
Bouncing on shore,
But even lighter than that,
Even lighter than the
Wings of the seagull trailing overhead.  
The clarinet drops in and out of sync
With the waves as the silhouettes start to
Bounce to the music.  
A distant bike bell dings,
But it matches so harmoniously
With the music that I don't notice it.  
Waves, bike, clarinet.  
Waves, bike, clarinet.  
A constant cycle interrupted only by
The saxophone and drums occasionally.  
Waves, bike, clarinet.  
The sun is set.  
Silhouettes turn to shadows.  
Waves, bike, clarinet.  
Waves, bike.  
I hope you are all staying safe and healthy!  I can't wait for the time when we can go enjoy live music again.  Thank you for reading!
Traveler Feb 2020
It’s as bright as hell
my eyes are squinting
Due-east the sun is rising
The shining snow welcomes
a break from days of overcast
Banshee and I aimlessly walk across
the frozen lake to avoid the traffic of the winding slippery busy roads
Dead critters feathers and fur
cars and trucks slip and swerve
Ice fishers on the horizon
year rounders in summer cottages
Far and few people but hardly alone
So I sit on this ice and write this poem
Traveler Tim
Anna Skinner Feb 2019
When we all go to Memphis, we spread Ludington sand in Matt’s flower beds,  like somebody died, and a silence falls as we let the sand sift through our fingers like ashes.  It smells like Michigan, like seashells and ***** lake water,  and it drowns out the construction workers making new-money houses.
Instead of funeral hymns, we’re blanketed by sawdust and cigarette smoke.  We sip and savor Evan Williams and for once, none of us speaks.  
Our veins light on fire from the whiskey, and our souls share a collective ache,  like our bodies are made from some sort of symbiotic cell.  

After The Spreading Of The Sand, we go to a haunted bar where entry is a password, where there’s a frown of a front door, and the exposed brick walls reek of the dead girls upstairs. I think, This is Memphis, a very loud city with louder secrets –  the overpowering shadow spreading its fingers in all her corners, silent until she swallows you whole.  

Memphis realigns your center –  
a snap of the blues, a crack of whiskey and,  all of a sudden, things run much more smoothly.  

Memphis, she’s known as the City on the Bluff,  a place where summer storms split at the river,  don’t reconvene ‘til east of Arlington.  
Her protection, it’s always there.  
Like DNA shared among siblings,  blood is always thicker here in her quarters.  

Memphis, she tells me I should’ve kicked Worry to the curb all along.  

Memphis, she keeps her people safe.
v Jan 2019
(The one where I’m feeling sorry for my cheating ex-girlfriend.0

We met the grim reaper on my 18th birthday.
He arrived to the party, uninvited,
dressed in ribbons
and legality
and student loans.  

Driving a silver Sudan
Eminem turned all the way up,
He hard braked in the turn lane next to us,
Skillfully smirking, words pulled back on his tongue like arrows.
ready to strike.


There I sat, cross faded in your passenger seat, crying for the 50th time over how Brockhampton is like
The best thing to happen to rap since Odd Future.
Singing “who’s got the feeling” at the top of my lungs.

I got a kiss at every red light.
No matter how quickly you turned away

Back then red and orange traffic lights were our dancefloor
We stood glowing in our favorite colors
Making up for every touch we could not share at prom.
I thought “god, if this barres me from heaven I’m already here with her.”  

I’d heard he always shows up at the worst times.
He, the reaper.
He’d really been there all along
In the smile of the lady at iHOP who invited us to church
In the down turned edges of mouths on waiters faces when I say,
“no, sir, we’ll be paying together”
I saw two girls kissing in the corner tonight and I only wish you were here to see it too.
I beg you come be with me.
Careful pitches “See these examples see what we can have”
Blue blood runs dry when their hearts are still soaked in red,
so no the money isn’t worth staying for.
You’re suffocating in red and right and trump signs.

She’s screaming baby, my love, pretty girl,
You are just too far,
and I am just too lonely.
We spent hundreds of days hating ourselves for loving each other.
Maybe we were too busy hating ourselves to actually love each other
She cannot meet me in the middle when she shackled to the start.

She reminds me of the reaper,
He lives inside her.
In the memories of being called a ****** at Christmas dinner.
Between picking out pears in the grocery store.
In the happiness over a haircut.
Happiness from my hands

Our breakup was not clean or neat or wholesome
It was all tears and excuses and hatred.
I still should’ve been there,
You’re the only one who understood how badly loving me hurts
I know it’s hard to love me.
To be good enough for me.
I haven’t figured out how to be good enough for myself either.

We’re Joking about how you mother thought we sat in circles
Whispering secrets, braiding
instead of pulling hair.
Now I watch as you pull yours out
Because ******* it you’re trying.
White people get away with killing kids all the time
Why would this be any different?

I’m in your passenger seat again
Asking what’s wrong, please answer me.
Where have you gone?
I’m pounding on a sealed casket
Pounding on the earth you lay beneath.
She is silent.

We held each other in pools of tears
Repeating that one day it gets better.
One day.
I feel guilty for living that truth
While you are stuck.

Yet still,
I will smile every June 11th
And wish you well.
I hope you’re still swimming
The creek we loved picked up quite the current.
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