Ines Rose Jul 31
It’s people who go way back
That won’t give me a call back
I left them back in Philly
Left them in my old city

It’s people who go way back
But I don’t want to backtrack
Some of them will grow and glow
Others will reap what they sow

It’s people who go way back
And yet I have to fall back
We could have stacked together
And been best friends forever

It’s people who go way back,
That disappeared like yik yak
Please keep that same energy
Quand tu me voit sur Paris
Quand tu me voit sur Paris = When you see me in Paris
I've been battling with this one since January.
Yes I know it's "There are". The AAVE is on purpose.
city of flips Jul 17
wants to be my friend, for I am poet-woman nineteen.

she is sweet but sad. super sad.

a good poet who wants to guide me.

but there/theirs is the odor, not faint, of wants wanting,
the pus of corruption behind the curtains,
the Wizard-ess of Oz's
special blackout curtains.

seen how easy, how her illusions,
my medium rare rejections,
morph into her delusions,

and her delusions devolve into
her conspiracy theories.

"SHE will be my mentor, poetess lover, teacher for no charge!"

my parents thinks it's great, she wants (to be) skin in my game.

my parents will find this poem accidentally, exactly,

how I do not want
to be skinned alive.

for I am poet-woman nineteen and still! now, long past
the point of being fooled, the point of no return.

and see no point,
have no intention,
of returning to either valley

no more conning my mind into letting my body be-fused.^  

that ain't me babe.
Terry Collett Jul 17
You preferred the Mahler
rather than the Delius;
the record played on
your Hi-Fi as we sat
on your blue sofa.

You'd brought us two
glasses of whiskey
and we sat and listened.

There was a print on the wall:
some country scene,
lovers at the corner, kissing.

The curtains were drawn closed
to shut out the street lights
and moon.

Not sure
I could be roused
by Delius, you said,
Mahler it is
who rouses me.

We sipped and sat
next to each other.

Last time I was there,
after Mahler's 5th
we went into your bedroom
and undressed
and made love.

After we lay there hot
and drenched with sweat,
and you said your husband
could never bring you
to such heights.

I remember
our first time,
a year or so before,
and I had come
to your apartment,
and after talk
and drinks,
you seduced me.

You were much
older than I,
but it unwound me
and brought life back
into your bed.

Sometimes I brought
wine or sherry;
often we drank
a whole bottle
between us.

Years later,
a friend of ours
stopped me and said
you had died:
your heart had stopped
and you were found
alone on your bed.

I hadn't seen you
in years;
we had drifted apart.

I remember
your warm smile
and over-beating heart.
Matia James Jun 13
Have you ever felt like you just need to re-start your life? Like you've fucked up so bad that the only way to fix it is to start over. Imagine your life being a video game that when you hit a part you can't beat you can re-start the game and try again. Well I feel like life has a re-start button and it's comes when you stop feeling sorry for yourself and pick yourself up off the ground. I hit the re-start button a few times....relationships, friendships, even on myself.
There's nothing wrong with wanting a fresh start at this thing called life. Especially when you feel stuck between a rock and a hard place. Re-starting your life is not giving up, it's striving to do better, to be better, and to not make the same mistakes again. I pressed the re-start button on my life and now I start school in the fall and still have time to give my son my all. See a re-start can be beneficial if you use it to your advantage. Don't waste your second chance because you don't wanna continue to waste valuable time pressing your re-start button back to are for when you need them most not when you don't wanna continue after you just started over 5 minutes ago. That button is powerful so use it well. You don't get many re-starts in life especially as you continue to get older.
Everyone needs a re-start button but don't abuse the power of starting over. Use it wisely and to your advantage. Be smart.
Daisy Marrow Jun 10
I love us in July,
the Saturday of summer.
Getting caught up in magic and cosmos,
killing time like it doesn't exist.
If being this carefree is a crime
then I guess we'll be locked up forever.

We sit in cars with slushies and show tunes.
Can't believe that I've never been happier.
These feelings are engraved
and they've found a home in me.  
These years were the little things
that made me love life.

Never did I imagine so much distance to invade our space.
Find us across the map and roads apart.
It's time we dance with reality.
Well, I guess time really did catch up with us.
It's time to break the news that summer does not last forever.
You used to feel untouched by the winds of time
They blew, and when they blew -they blew over everyone around you
Toppling those who shielded you from the wild winds
Those who reduced them to gentle gusts
But alas, you have grown
And are too big to fit behind the wall
You must brave the winds with the rest of us now.
Brent Kincaid May 11
I’m waddling around with wattles.
Nothing in a bottle will change that.
Not buying a better looking hat
Or a brighter, tighter shirt.
My childhood left in the dirt,
I’m an old man! I do what I can
To not look like a wino under a bridge;
A smidge of aftershave so I don’t stink
And people don’t think I’m decaying.

What I’m saying is, I’m getting old.
Graying smudges among the gold.
This is me. This is what I see daily
When I glance gaily into my mirror
Expecting the guy as young as I feel.
He isn’t real. An old guy sneaked in
Again, and I wish I hadn’t peeked.
Oh well, this isn’t really hell.
I have never thought I was hot,
One of those handsome lads that had
Everyone’s heads turning for them.

I had dim hope there for a while
But, no matter how much I smile
Nothing wins like smooth skin
Broad shoulders and big pecs.
I mean, I was not a wreck, but not
As I said, even a little bit hot.
Oh well, I got what I got, true?
Can I or you ever defeat genetics?
Like father like son, and mother,
Creates another generation of us;
Nice guys and gals, but plain,
And this old man is what remains.
I walk alone this August morning
as the heat begins its climb
and the ocean wind
is cooling in its soft touch

manta ray jumps and flips
and splashes
bragging to me its freedom

I walk alone
this endless beach
til the sweat drips and
the skin burns
and the storms roll
in distant chaos

there was a time when I would have considered
turning back
but those days have long since vanished
into the curve
that separates the climb
from the descent
oldie - light revision
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