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Bhill Oct 5
You're reality
Does it fit the life you live
Have you had questions

Is your energy your own
Do you believe there is more
Have you wanted to explore
Are you having suspicions
Reach out for a mixed path
A pathway to somewhere else

You are not alone
Life's path can be adapted
Adapted to match

Brian Hill - 2019 # 249
Is your reality fit your in your life?
Josiah Bates Oct 4
The sky over peach hill
Was dulcet last I looked,
Without a hint of clammy March
In the middle of a bright July

The sky over peach hill
Had clouds surrounding the kites,
My girl and I would stare for hours
As hot-air balloons passed by

That sky over peach hill
Ever soft, ever sweet.
That was the place where I found
That life passes in a sigh

The peaches fell,
And august came.
My girl went away,
I was left behind.

The sky over peach hill
Looks a little darker now.
But I know once winter ends
The kites will fly again
madameber Oct 3
I am an insult to the concept of race,
A thought experiment that didn’t get far
Enough to be included in the mix,
A lack of imagination in their
classifications and categorisations,
I was unwritten, a source of confusion
For later generations convinced of
The natural division between nations,
I was a glitch in the system,
The number two where just one
Should have been, the result of somebody's
Irresponsible coding, I was an omission,
An improbability made impossible to be.

I am a danger to the concept of race,
Because I cannot be defined within
The limited scope of what it means
To be other, because I’ve danced
Across the lines meant to divide
Two sides, and played the roles assigned
To two supposedly different kinds
Of people, my flexibility confuses
The boundaries and disrupts
So-called realities, my existence exposes
The fault lines beneath the stories
We trusted to explain our selves to us.

I am a challenge to the concept of race,
Unable to exist on either side
I occupy the space between the lines,
And I am not alone in my defiance,
Not the only one tired of defeat and
Compliance, of being reduced into
Someone else’s truth, of talking politely
And making excuses so they can continue
Their ruthless manoeuvres to swallow
Us back inside the machine, dictate
Our personalities and wipe our minds clean,
But we've tasted freedom and we're not
Going back, we’ll reclaim our identities,
Invalidate the categories that divided
Us in the first place, the bitter performance
We called race.
it's a working title.
Justyn Huang Sep 12
I wish people were more like
Stop lights;
You’d never see one glowing
both red and green
Simultaneously, otherwise
there’d be a car crash

And neither would they turn
Completely off, cause then
No one would know how to proceed.

By all means — flirt with me.
But stop sending mixed signals.
Don’t you hate it when people send mixed signals?
Jules AA Sep 3
Our world is so beautiful
the trees in metamorphosis,
verdant or burning or bare,
the birds that sing you awake
flutter about carelessly.
The stars that kiss our skin
as we dance by fire in the dark,
and quenching rains
that bring to life the senses—
Oh Earth, why then am I so bereft
of Joy?
Why then does the sun not shine on me
as a flower
and bring life?
Alifmun Jul 18
Who am I?
I don't know
A concoction of
Different races
And language
A Frankenstein of
Word and cultures
Ignored and despise
By pure blooded
This poem is written from my personal perspective. Mixed blood always got treated differently
TD Jul 14
Opalescent emotions/thoughts riotous
tossed like drowsy eyed flora
tangled
in dove-eyed bed sheets
their nuances silken edged
and cool to the touch.

Sunlight drives winks of promise
the beckoning beam
a gossip mongers wicked tongue
unleashed
as tortured petals/seeds
share their space
so indiscreetly.

Boasting a spider creed
a web of delicate mazes
that twist and choke
photosynthesis
the mixed bouquet
struggles for forbearance
and composure.

Ahh you are a funny bunch
eager to burst forth
without a root to bear
beautiful in your swilling path
unsubstantial at best..

And yet you bloom so beautifully
the experience untamed
and I am quite fond of it.

Blossoms no matter how reckless
leave behind sweet dreams to be desired.

And I am all about dreams.
madameber Jun 26
one
breathe
you may not realise it
but you’ve stepped into new lands
and life is different here
you are different here

you’d thought the sun
had kissed you before
but it did not love you
like it did this place
the people here had
felt its arms wrapped
around their bodies
for generations,
its light imprinted in
their skin like melanin,
the same light
you’d seen shine
from your mother’s hands

you’d thought the sun
had kissed you once before
but you were different,
your light was dimmer,
harder to recognise
and even the sun wasn’t
sure you were its kin,
had to look twice
before it realised
your blood but you
remained a stranger
all the same

two
the way you talk is wrong
your words too delicate
your voice too soft
your speech without music

you’d thought your tongue
was universal, had been
both understood and mis before,
but you were the cub of a lioness
and didn’t know how to roar,
no pride would take
you in when you
mewled like a kitten
and no sunlight shone
from your skin

you’d thought your tongue
was no different to
your mother’s, but hers
never worked the same
when you spoke it,
never quite connected
to its audience, so
you stopped trying,
turned to the moon instead
and gave it your confession
the only way you knew how,
it told you you spoke just fine

three
you think somewhere else
things will be different
you don’t remember
it has always been this way

your family never once
pointed out the intricacies
of your branches to you,
why you matched neither
your father’s roots nor your
mother’s veins, but had blossomed
something different, something new,
and why that would ever matter,
your family never thought
about these things, never
talked about such things,
they just wanted you
to speak plain

your family never once
explained how home would
be new to you, how home
wouldn’t really be like home
after all, because home didn’t
welcome you like it should have,
didn’t greet you right, hold you
tight in its arms and make you feel
like you belonged, because you
were different, and it didn’t
recognise you for a moment
or two

one
breathe
you may not realise it
but you’ve stepped into new lands
and life is different here
and you are different here
one to start a collection of self-reflection, perhaps, if it comes willingly
axel Jun 21
nothing is worse than mixed signals
do you still want me
do you still love me
please let me know
so i can act accordingly
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