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Heavy Hearted Apr 15
It's right after I wrote your message
That I had to write this here
Please know I dont hightlight tragedy
But this page, is full of fear...

It's also full of a bunch of NEXT ****T

To single out fear is but a guise!
one written so as to throw you off,
In hopes that you realize
That I write for more than just
Some cathartic sort of prize

It's a vehicle, A medium
unique as song and dance-
Like water color or oil paints
The rhythmic rhymes entrance
I Wonder if you'll see this!
Eve K Dec 2023
Do you know me?
Do I know you?
What secrets do you embrace?

I have my pleasures,
My little treasures.
I wonder if I am the only one?

They're not to be hidden,
Nor are they forbidden.
They're just mine. My secrets.

For example,
Do you like to dance crazily with music loud?
Do you do art, paint, draw, create?
Do you go for a walk late at night?
Do you sit in your room and contemplate?
Or do you think about who would win, superman or batman?
Do you feel sad? Do you feel happy? Do you have a secret anger that burns you?
Or are people as plain as they look upfront?
What is it that you do that you hold dear, near and out of fear you keep inside?

I wonder. Am I the only one with secrets that no-one knows?
Why do I hold them so close? To make them feel like mine.
What am I afraid of, That if someone knew my secrets, they would no longer be secret?
Why does this make it feel special? If no-one knows about them?
If they were known, it would no longer be enjoyable.
Is it for the lack of judgement that I tell no soul I know?
Or is it to keep it mine and by sharing it, it is no longer mine to share?
Is it my secret and do you have any you want to contribute?
Then it will be our secret.
If anyone ever see’s that girl,
Tell her, I am doing fine,
It’s been forever since I saw her,
Feel like, I’ve been doing time,
She will always remember me,
The guy playing music, in the garage,
With the bright lights, and signs,
We touched each other’s heart,
It happened in such a short time,
There are no bad feelings,
I remember, those days, as special times,
If she ever needs a friend, my arms are open,
No late fees, or fines.
It was crazy the day we met,
She is half my age,
We shared a lot of fun nights,
I remember them, like yesterday,
She knows, if she is ever lost,
I would talk to her, any night or day,
She never gave a reason, to keep her true emotions in,
She just turned and walked away,
I hope sometime, I’ll see her again,
She will always be,
One of my favorite memories, that will always stay.
Song Lyrics by: The Original: Tom Maxwell ©12/14/2023 AD
The timing was perfect we both needed a friend...
Anais Vionet Nov 2023
I’ve always loved music. As a little girl, I could spend hours going through peoples CD collections, sampling them with my little battery-operated CD player. If you showed me a stack, rack or box of CDs, I was in heaven.

When I was 8 (2011), I got my first iPod for Christmas, an iPod Touch with 32GB of memory! The sticker said it was from Santa, but ‘Step’ got a package in the mail from Apple three weeks earlier, so I knew who it was really from. Upon opening it, I rushed upstairs to my older brother’s computer, plugged it in, carefully copied the username and password for the family iTunes account (from a wrinkled post-it note), and the world was never the same.

It never occurred to me that my parents could see all of my playlists and that they were automatically downloaded to their devices - like my break-up playlist, inspired by Antoine, my French-boy fifth grade crush. It didn’t work out because he didn’t have an email account and our recess times didn’t line up, but my playlist helped me through it.

I could burn playlists to CDs and exchange them with friends - or gift them to middle school boys who I hoped to amaze with my awesome musical tastes. There’s an art to the playlist that involves controlling pace and mood - every playlist was both a gift and a seduction.

Today we have Spotify with its unlimited streaming of every song ever made - on demand. Exchanging playlists, these days, is as easy as pressing "Share" and typing the first few letters of a friend’s or lover's username.

Like most of my girlfriends, I consider myself a playlist queen and as I continue to work this career path I’ve chosen, regardless of what's weighing me down, I know I can turn to my playlists to push me through. The band ‘The Narcissist Cookbook ’ assures me that my shocking honesty is fun with ‘Broken People.’ ‘K. Flay’ allows me to dance-out my rage with ‘Blood in the cut’ and ‘New Move’ motivates me to keep-at-it with ‘When did we stop.’

I’ve countless Spotify playlists: one for waking up, one for writing papers, one for doing problem sets, others for walking to class, doing the laundry, for nostalgic reflection, and for embracing the astounding depth of human pain.

Of course, as time passes, I find new favorite songs and older playlists are replaced with updated ones; but thanks to the archival nature of Spotify playlist collections, all my old lists remain intact. I’ve never deleted one. Search my archives and you’d see playlists from my freshie year, when I was new here, feeling insecure and alone, or from my sophomore year when I first fell in love.

This piece is a playlist love story, about how music reflects our identities and allows us to share ourselves through the vibes, melodies and beats that move us. I think playlists have a lot in common with poetry, which uses words, phrases, metaphors and imagery for similar purposes.
Heavy Hearted Nov 2023
Before the sun ascends
Through dawn's first clouds.
Hold on to the now pastel sky-
Of a late November morning.

Let the waking world below
slowly warm your spirit,
Play a song to soothe the pain / remember, but don't fear it-

All this beauty of what is to come
can only ever be made real
When shared with those who understand
Intrinsic- all you feel.
Jess B Nov 2023
I  did that for you
...didn't I?

yet now,
I feel empty

If I offered my gift
did I take it from me?

Tell me

What really is


Where does it reside?

Can it be captured?



will it always
at random
dry the well?

Who is this for?

and is it needed?

Some days like

but others feel
AE Jul 2023
To fault Tomorrow
Would be wrong
She just sat down
And all she said was
“I'm not sure”
And here we are
Because Yesterday was certain
But only today did she say anything
About it
And Today, she's been talking for a while.
(We are tired of it)
But Tomorrow thinks she can waltz in here
And sit down
Be mysterious and all
I won’t have it
But then to fault Tomorrow
Would be wrong
When its me
At fault
For thinking too long
Too wide
Too soon
Too late
For thinking and thinking
Until it all collates
And we are in a muddle
A mess
Of a puddle
Bursting in tears
And fears
And all my Wondering
She’s blameworthy
I'm the neurotic one
I can't sit still
Until Tomorrow
Doesn’t come back
Dressed as Today
When she will talk
And talk
And talk
And I will wish once again
For yesterday
When she was
All quiet
And obnoxious
And mysterious
All unknown
And we will be back in new roles
New bodies
New tales
All over and over and over and over
Pagan Paul Jul 2023
Take my hand and let us go so lightly,
walking 'pon the lake of lovers dreams,
gentle ripples interlace our smiles brightly,
lighting the stars within romantic streams.
Making love as we sink beneath cool water,
drowning lustful in passions liquid embrace.
The dream shimmers, as the images falter
and the still lake reflects your delicate face.
wes parham Feb 2023
If I wanted to take a little time,
If I wanted to share my inner mind,
If someone said it had to rhyme,
I got no time for that ****…

Paint for me, in your chosen words,
The lines are branches; the letters, birds.
Sing to me songs sublime; absurd,
Just don’t tell me it has to rhyme…

Settle the bitter, ancient scores,
Make the audience seek for more,
Make the shoes I stand in yours,
Do not make me repeat myself…

Write me a letter, I long to hear,
Your poet’s voice in my mental ear,
Till the world does shed a collective tear,

I think I’ve made myself perfectly-  uh…

Do it!  It’s fun.  Come on, everybody else is writing poems, you know you wanna, how about just one stanza, it could be free verse, rules? there aren’t any, that’s what’s so liberating, so democratizing about poetry, bring it, bring it, bring it, show me what you got…!
neth jones Feb 2023
the world is flown
       and i sleep beside you wed
 our mossy appetite has become cleaved  
                                   a sleeve running between us on this bed
      a warm hum     the pores  pipe open
    intimacy issues forth    traversing the gap
  intelligence sliding    slack and froth    
        like moist candy-floss   icking and tearing

our shared dream
     our powerful phantom
         gussy travellers
       ravelling in sheets of smoky sea
 grey/green misting of the memory gland
gathering up dead celebrity
tuning structures to our jubilee
re-creation in a vibe theatre
we're partners conducting our behaviour
                         for a grand flotsam revelry    
                                      dizzed up and narcotic
         no doubt ; we are unreal

it is the neon hour...

i flicker
           feeling the rushing of your warm system
         i feel weather speed over our bodies
                               striping and refreshing the energy
            in the oil light blinking   i see you
          scar beauty over the berths' landscape
           you turn the body over and illuminate the eyes
          you are if to say     "plug back in to our shared motion"
           "we could be imperishable"
         "i cannot return without my inconsiderate spouse"
          you brush my hand which fizzes
                                          and i clothe my eyes
           re-enter our developing potion
          within   our great mouths feed alike
          our dual nature is a shared gratification   within
guided evolution of a somni-lucid state
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