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Robert Ronnow Oct 2022
I spoke with two people at the party Saturday.
A young police officer, short-haired, fit,
chiseled face who had two young children.
He felt constrained by the law, without discretion
to question mopes (perps) aggressively
or to let go those who were obviously no threat.
Even at a family function he seemed straight-backed, correct,
devoted to his role as our protector (and his children’s)
yet I thought perhaps too deeply in debt, indentured
to the rules and laws of legislators and destined
to be disappointed (or worse). I thought his courage
and devotion (to whom or what?) would surely
be poorly repaid and that this lesson
was necessary to ready him with wisdom
for death or further living. I worried like a brother
about the unpredictable dangers, even terrors,
he must daily face, and the pleasure he takes in facing them.
How will he return to the fragility of family,
of the soul alone, after wielding the force
of the state, the blind, combined will of us all?

Next a business exec, retired from a well known
global investment firm. At first we talked about
the lush beauty of the northeast compared to the arid west
(although he loves every inch of the west, too).
Then somehow we got beyond light conversation
when he complained about the perceived decline in values
for instance how the Ten Commandments can’t be publicly
displayed. He said we can all agree on God
but I said I have a mechanistic view of the universe
(although the unknowable always sits just out of reach
of the known). I told him my dad’s theory of reincarnation,
a good man and a corporate seeker of God also, whose shoes
I could never fill unless I swore belief in a supreme being.
No hard feelings. Then he told me the story
of his dying friend, an atheist, not even a deist
like the founding fathers, who opened his eyes for the last time
to correct the exec’s misperception that now he’d meet his maker.
Having exceeded the bounds of acceptable conversation
I went looking for my children. Nothing more to question.
No questions less fear
No lost no care
Can't relate, nor share
Be it here or there
Seems the same all fair
Why must it be unclear
Fear it now fear it near
Time will come, it shall declare
The truth of the matter &where
Fear should come in from there
Give it to and take it as a pair
Accumulated thoughts are rare
To think lost won't breath your air
Must be a fool upon your heir
Wet drops of questions in a form of a tear
Could this be you my dear fear
Why? What? When? And? Where?
Visible as a piece of sheer
Forgot no super being lived here
But open your eyes, and open your ear
Listen to what the world is trying to tell
when it's telling you what you need to hear
Are you fearless? Or just fearful of the truth? The more questions I ask the more fear I instill in myself,but fear has also came from lost. If you have never lost you haven't really questioned.
Aires May 20
On this desk, years have been certain.
I cling to some people, let go of the rest.
The book’s pages are yet to be completed,
But I don’t want to.

There might be better places, better people, better everything.
The air around me, the living smiles everything is there.
The feeling, the racing heart, the excitement yet to be fulfilled.
But I don’t care.

Now, I don’t feel anything.
My body, my heart, my brain urge me to stop.
To stay in this state,
Where I’m numb.

The question is:
Where am I?
Why am I?
Or do I just need someone to ask,
How are you?
My question is- am I only one feel this way, feeling the numb self, can't explain myself.
Tayler May 20
i lied to my therapist.
i’m not really sure why.
i feel a comfort in her office
with her helplessly millennial decor
and cozy lighting.

even with a bright smile and warm greeting,
a welcoming conversation.
a look of concern flashed across her face as she asked me
i lied.

i’m sure she could tell.
it was nothing against her.
i felt shame.
an impulse in the place where truth makes the most sense.
i still lied.

i ponder the reality of my lies
small things.
big things.
things i tell myself.
if i can’t even tell myself the truth,
of course i would lie to others.
but i don’t want to.
i don’t like lying.

i wish honesty was my policy
but it still seems to be people pleasing to my core.
i’m frustrated
i’m hurt
yet i’ve done this to myself
how could i?
Lostling May 9
Is it the words that flow and rhyme
And dance in rhythm, keeping time?

Or is it a line
That breaks when it wants to,
Not when it’s told;
A thought
Spilling without apology?

Or 5-7-5
Secrets whispered by the wind
Words, though few, sing true?

Perhaps it is found behind coughed petals,
Fourteen lines aligning to pave a stage
Where lovers for love charge into battle
And hearts are found pierced or tangled in rage

Or ten words, though short, a poem for the world

Or the sun spilling gold across the sky
Painting clouds as the sea drowns its light.

To me, poetry is emotion;
Memory,
Ink spilled where the heart leaked
And it is not meant for everyone
Someone told me something I wrote wasn't poetry. Maybe they are right. But it got me thinking: what is poetry? What makes a poem different from words scattered across a page?
Nate Apr 29
what? what can we do?
do for them, for the world.
world full of hate.
hate coming from you.
you don't know what i do.
do know, but never tell.
tell in this life time.
time that runs out.
out of our hands.
hands who are broken.
bloken like broken hearts.
hearts who love, but don't feel.
feel the pain insite of me.
me and you and we.
we... we don't say we.
we love, we hate, we...
we know, know that we know
know, that i love you.
you love you, like you love me.
me and you are the same
same like brothers and sisters.
sisters and brothers who are broken.
broken because they love.
love each other...
SL Apr 26
A gift of perpetual silence,
from a deafening scornful frequency;
Eternal tranquility, we chase,
so is it considered victory?
Victorious it must feel,
for the one who departs abrupt;
In the halt prior to mine,
leaving a chaos in my heart.
Izan Almira Apr 15
Why is being ‘shameless’
something bad
but ‘fearless’
a desired quality
when shame
closes doors
and fear
saves lives?
Yes, the title is a reference to System of a Down’s song. I’d love to see what you think in the comments<3
Tell me,
what do you choose to live by –
Life’s script, or by Scripture?
Ejiro Mar 24
Back in elementary school
the teacher will give you a piece of paper and you have to write 3 things
that describe who you are
Usually kids would just scribble down the first 3 sentences that pop up in their heads
“I’m a funny person ” said the unfunny one
“I’m super friendly” said the mean girl
“I’m a good person” said the ****
etc… etc… etc…
but whenever that paper appears upon her
she would go numb
with my pencil glued to her hand
confused eyes staring at the paper
usually she would just peak at someone else’s paper and copy what they say
and just go on with her day
with that question clinging onto her with utter annoyance
Yet now that she’s older it’s different
That question doesn’t come up on her high school homework packets and yet
and yet it still lingers somehow
Now her mind goes to a daydream state
where she sees herself sitting in an empty elementary classroom
with the paper with that question on there
and once again she’s numb
no one to peak at their shoulder
no teacher to ask for help
and not a single sound that can distract her
With only a pencil in my hand
she wrote her name and the date
with only a question mark as her answer
even though she already knew
but couldn’t bear to write it
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