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Back in the day
When those parties
In Venice
That say would have 25 people or so
Walking through?

Now they were
Too big
Over-packed with
With frat boy vibes?

Dana Rick and I
Arrived at one
And I thought a
At the sliding glass door
Oh God
And quickly escaped to the kitchen
Cutting through the living room
Where there was the make shift bar
Nothing much in the

I made my drinks
And turned around
To cross back
And somehow Dana was there
In front of me

She raised her hands
And wiggled through the bodies

While I
I will dance
When I feel like it
I choose

So I began to follow
And every elbow knees hip and arm
Reached out to touch me
Knocking all the contents out of
my little plastic cups

And though
I got to the other side
Looking back

The three of us
Went to stand on the side of the house
By the water meter
And I laid down my cups

So the moral of this story
Although I think it’s obvious
Is to
Venice parties
You know those
200 in a space made for 50?
A monster that
You had to
Protect yourself from?

Three of us
In the living room and I got
To the Kitchen. For safety.

Serving adequate, and me
on my way back
Drinks in each hand
Bodies through Dana leading
Her arms above her head
bouncing she won’t spill a drop
The other hands follow
again, me with
stubborn arms
thus liquid contents emptied and
the floor underfoot

The water meter stood laughing
told us about the flow and to go with it
Bri Stokes Nov 2020
I never read your letter.
I can’t bring myself
to confront the sting of
I can’t bear to
part the veil which shields
my failures from my
from my lips
and legs
to listless
avoiding variables;
I ignore to keep
my weary eyes
above water.
See, reality wrinkles
its nose at the fantasies my insanity
can concoct
when I’ve yet to find a reason
to chase you away.
When the tethers of my grip
have yet to give way to anxiety, leaving me to wonder
if I feel too happy,
look too good,
want far more than what
my karma will allow.
I never read your letter, as I’ve been
consumed with playing
dress-up, draped in finery and fixtures
fit to outshine all the glow of
unshed tears
under pulsing
I'll coax it open it yesterday, but never tonight.
Anais Vionet Nov 2020
Some old movie plots
can't happen now, with changes
in technology...

You know, in a movie
when someone texts everyone
at school by mistake?

at school on their contacts list?
No way that happens.

Parent-less parties
where scores show up - with modern
surveillance systems?

or ditching class, heck
my parents are texted my
quiz scores real-time.

"why'd you get an 88
on that Calculus test, I
thought you studied?" Argh!
I'm all for technology but why EVERYWHERE?
Anais Vionet Nov 2020
When it stopped and I saw the target, a handsome 16 year old, part of me wanted to jump up and run. This party wasn’t with my usual friends - except my BFF Kim was there. These kids were 15 and maybe 16. I had just turned 14. We had been invited by an older girl-friend.

I couldn’t have been more nervous - the party had turned just short of terrifying - but there’s no way on God’s earth that I could chicken out. John and I shuffled towards each other on our knees.

He’s taller and as we drew together he bent toward me and I looked up - our lips touched, I felt his warm breath - WOW, his lips were soft.. I had to force myself not to pull back - my heart was pounding with the fear of embarrassment - what if he stopped - like, YUCK, and declared the whole idea an impossibly silly joke??

He didn’t - after a second I felt his strong left hand gently on the back of my head and he slightly rotated my head to the right and - OH, YEAH - we were able to draw deeper into the kiss (I’d seen that in MOVES - now I understood). His lips were so smooth, slightly slippery and warm - I was breathing WAY deeper then and felt a twining in interesting places.

His right hand pressed my lower back and he fetched me closer and, boy, we REALLY fit - I felt my ******* pressed to his chest - I wasn't sure what to do with my hands - they were sort of out to the side. His tongue fleetingly touched my lips and the tickle was electric.

My lips parted a little - he drew me even closer - his tongue playfully connected with mine and I seemed to short circuit - I drew in breath sharply, through my nose - which sounded enormously loud to me. WOAH, this was getting intense, I put my palms to his shoulders - should I push away??

“Time!,” the girl timing the kiss called.

We stopped actively kissing and he started easing off the pressure holding us together - I leaned back on his hands a bit as I searched for balance. Our kiss-seal broke and I gasped a little, which fortunately, sounded like a laugh and everyone laughed as we pulled apart. I glanced at his face and he was smiling warmly - I blushed explosively and looked down.

I put my right hand on my skirt as I scooched back in place and someone placed the bottle back on the center of the circle.

I was still looking down because I could tell my face was beet-red but my eyes found Kim, I smiled and give her a telepathic holy-COW. My first REAL kiss.

I left the circle before someone could spin me. There's no way that I was going to do that again.
Hasn't everyone played "spin the bottle" at least once?
Anais Vionet Aug 2020
This story happened last year, last fall right before school began

Summer talk has stopped sigh - free and easy days, parties and beach trips are over. Now attention turns to the fall and the start of school and the “2019 Social Season.”

Fall begins tonight with a social (a very formal dress party) and the night ahead looms long - these are the events that, for some reason, my siblings live for shaking head - I hate them.

The British would've held this party in a garden - when they ruled the world - but we're modern man - we get the St Regis.

My two best friends aren't here tonight so I'm stuck with my "peers" - the extravagant children of rich houses - those seekers of happy times drunk with an absence of accountability - as they enjoy their metrical friendships and wander lost among forests of bad choices.

Have you ever seen people high on their own surface reflections? It's not a good look.

I see a new purse worth an economy car - honors at the feet of conceit - presented like erotica - let's all just drown in special privilege - "That'll cure racism" - I crack - to cow-like indifference.

Don't worry, my generation will save the planet - we got this.
it's easy to blame the shamble of a world on others - will MY generation be any better?
Now 20 turning 21 this month, but you don't realize the time and where it went until you reach a certain age.
20 still young but not as young when you think back to years ago.
When i was 10 i thought my teenage and adult life would be filled with what we see on the movies, full of life, party and fun.
But it really isn't like that, when you reach a certain age maybe for some what you wish you had may never become.
Never being able to join the cool kids, go to parties to have sleep overs because you're not labeled as "cool".
Time's have changed since back in your days, or our days.
No more house parties as we used to see, just more reckless than what old generation of the youthful playful teens would be.
I used to think drugs, parties, alcohol, loud music, *** and being popular would be cool, (isn't that what we all thought high school would be like?)
but now i look back and think it wouldn't be fun to...
die from drugs, puke from poison, carry maybe syphilis.
But maybe being able to join a party or 2 and be a bit popular and be liked would be cool.
Or would it?
If you had a chance to experience this Youthful Playful young life, please explain down below how it really made you feel?
Peter Farsje Feb 2020
I just love my old grandad.
He was born in Kentucky,
I think he has aged well.

He joins us at family parties.
He sits staight and tall
but rarely, if ever, says anything.

He brings warmth
and good cheer while he
quietly sits listening.

Sometimes I look for him
at the grocery store,
though I seldom see him there.

I just love my Old Grandad.
He is the head of the bourbon family.

Old Grandad.
Kentucky Straight Bourbon Whiskey.
Abby M Jan 2020
I often wander past her gallows
And feel a sympathetic twinge
At glints of sun on growing rifts
I long to hear her sing

My fingers itch to hold the mallet
Molded to her brazen form
A tongue, once ripped from quiet lips
It rests, with ears, unworn

If treasured glance is counted higher
Than the purest ringing note
Then may she hang still, gagged in silence
“To Liberty!”, I quote
kodi Jan 2020
I didn’t want to miss out
                        I love going to parties

So this is my attempt
                        To find some new friends

I’ll try my best
                        I’m a shy extrovert

It’s a poetic challenge
                       Words and people I love
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