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Michael Adams Sep 26
Our hearts will not allow us to complete the Journey without
living &
Honestly and openly and truthfully.

Our heads will tell us to keep trying to anyway.

Don’t listen.

The Journey is long enough as it is.
Guilt &
Are heavy burdens to carry.
Michael Adams Sep 24
He thought he had a grip on life,
He thought he knew his place his Wife.
He thought he knew himself as well,
But when he met her all thoughts fell.

No longer did he know his Wife,
Too loose he’d held a grip on life.
And swept up by a younger spell,
That grip was broken by the swell.

Now swept away he looked around,
The younger spell could not be found.
He called he searched he tried in vain,
But hope and heart began to wane.

For she had gone this much he knew,
His head was fog his heart was blue.
He knew for him it wouldn’t be,
So he surrendered to the sea.
Pursuing ardent fervor
Lured toward peaceful obscurity
Freedom's abandon
Enticingly treacherous
Elusive assurance
Lizzie Nelson Jun 21
What stuff is this cotton wool behind my eyes?
A knit of foggy fibers holding fast my next thought.
Odd when my mind so flies;
at the age of fifty three I ought
to relish ripe wisdom & cognition,
yet here I am, forgetting where to turn
just to reach the kitchen.
There’s a marvelous point I want to make about this piece...........aaaand it’s gone!
Marta Jan 2
I remember when things used to happen in the future
The dreams, the hopes and the worries

Suddenly things stared to happen in the past
The memories, the victories and the regrets

How did I miss the time when the they were all happening now?
Ashley Kane Mar 2018
“A supposedly Amusing ode”

I lay here staring can it be?
A midlife crisis  come for me?
But no it’s not true oh it taunts me
After all I’m not yet fourty

But oh I’ve lived a life so carefree
No morgage payments await for me
No insurence upon my life
Not even a pension
I’m nobodies wife
I’ve born no child it’s not yet for me
It’s all lie ins takeaway and adult TV
I can go out when I please
I have savings never
Sometimes I drink to much but I don’t feel clever
But wait .... oh no maybe that’s not it .... maybe that’s not what’s the cause of this itch
Maybe now I’m realising I’ve had it all wrong
I bought the wrong book I’ve sung the wrong song

No rock and band sit upon this hand
I’m not sure why I don’t understand
Why have these ***** produced no fruit
Why does my maternal instinct feel so mute
I do not own these rocks and mortar
This cat here is my only daughter
My other half as bad as me
He just likes to snore and watch TV
Oh **** oh no it’s all to late
To fix my life get it straight
I must get married
I must produce life
Quick mark wake up and make me your wife
Hmmmm but that’s actually all quite expensive
And we are really not that tentive
To the young of age who make such a mess
The school run sounds like a lot f stress
And a morgage surely ties you down
What if I don’t like that side of town
Or county
Or country and want to live a life
Full of travel freedom and vice ?
Yes I’m sure it’s all ok
in our rut I think we’ll stay
With our own jokes and inside gags
Phew what a relief I can breath with no strife
And relax a little into mid life :)
(C) Ashley Kane
Constantly my life is, what’s ifs, what should I do, I should be doing more,
Then I remember I actually like it how it is
sitting down in the shower
cliché but appealing,
if i could feel a fraction
of the things that they're feeling,
the things i've been hearing since
the day i grew ears.
looking for reasons to love yourself
and being told to scavenge
in someone else's clothes.
every year that passes
i've managed to convince myself
was just another mid life crisis,
because i'd be overwhelmed
with another fifteen, twenty years
or how long can a person last
convinced they'll find a romance
that distracts from how they hate themselves.
Okie Cavies Jan 2016
My mistake;
I told myself I just forgot to put my makeup on
and no one would really notice anyway,
but there it is large as life -
the part of me that doesn’t fit in.
Okie Cavies Jan 2016
You wouldn’t understand; no one does.
Who I am doesn’t fit who I’m supposed to be.
Cramped and crowded in leftover expectations,
like a cicada larvae in too-small skin.
What will I be if I ever emerge,
and how long will it take everyone to **** it?
Okie Cavies Jan 2016
Rushing downstream
gasping above the waterline
grasping at rocks and branches
heaving breaths haul me ashore
where the hell am I?
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