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Zywa 4d
Outside the village,

we let the local bus pass --


the stop, our club house.
Column "Speedy J - Bushalte" ("Speedy J - Bus stop", 2024, Ine Boermans) in the VPRO broadcasting-guide (2024 #6) - Wezup

Collection "Shelter"
xjf Sep 2023
It was a long bus ride
And the **** plastic sheet seats
Were cracking from abuse and freeze
We all kept warm with conversations
And secrets
And scandals in the back row

The era of shame
My own propaganda
Selling me on the idea
That I should carry everyone's.
Sourness
Sins
Shame

That bus was wretched
With the stench
Of frozen sweat
And regret

Despite it all
I could find any single one of you
And we'd exchange
Untouchable moments
Memories of the heart
Strung along that tattered pavement

Here's mine

It was in your eyes
That I saw myself shine
For across that opaque pane
I witnessed your thought
"this guy is interesting"

You and your curly raven rings
Asking about my fixations
Changed the course
Of who I see
when I close my eyes

I've never seen you since that summer
I've never sat behind you again
Can't even recall the name
Can't remember if we won the game
But you're a warm tea I get to sip
When it comes across my mind
No loose ends
No ***** stains
Just the sun breaking the squall
And the summer of ****** football
ky Jul 2023
We never really knew each other.

Sure, we texted nonstop.
You stared at me in the halls.
But missed chances and glances were all we had.
We never had a real conversation.
(Maybe things would have been different if we did.)

All my memories of you
consist of my face lit by a bright screen,
sitting in the darkness of my bedroom,
wishing for you—desperately—at 11:11.
Steph Wams Feb 2022
We read our books and pretend to
not make glances at each other.
We smile as if the pages in the book had tickled at our sides.
We write love stories in our heads and forget about the ones on the page.
An uncomfortable warmth surrounds us as we pretend not to pose ourselves in our chairs.
As if we are offering ourselves to the sun to immortalise this youthful love.
Our hands quiver as we turn each page.
Like these stories will ours come to a brief
end?
And though you and I are nothing,
destined for
deletion,
taunted by
extinction.
We pray that these feelings are more than that.
But when I see the stars in your eyes my worries float away,
for I know this love is cosmic.
I to wish for a love so sweet
stillhuman Jan 2022
Remember that summer
when it was dry and heavy
but in the evening
the breeze would gently
sway the smoke
of your cigarette in my hand
when you were trying
to teach me how not to choke

And I remember coughing
and laughing it off with you,
how smoke had always
been around me
but my lungs were funny
'bout this direct approach

And we talked 'bout everything
from heartbreak, to lovers, to family
And I truly felt wonder
at the simplicity of those moments
and how much they meant to me

So much I look back to them now
when it's winter and I'm alone
missing your warmth, your voice
and itching for a smoke
everything matters
Carlo C Gomez Dec 2021
~
Holding court at the Zanzibar,
they looked on good nights
like Egyptian Queens, like Ancient Babylonians.

On not so good nights,
they resembled Brassaï's Moma Bijou -
"fugitives from Baudelaire's bad dreams",
and even then they looked magnificent.

Identity wasn't something you nailed
yourself into in late adolescence.
It was a trick of the light,
and if you were to avoid
burning yourself out,
then you simply let the flames
lick over you
and turned the ashes into kohl.

~
Dave Robertson Oct 2021
Mist chose to linger a while,
though mild air belied October.

Overwhelmed by birdsong,
loud against the abstract silence
of these adolescent sentinels,
stood like arboretum trees
filled with the gravitas
of no age, no age at all.

The year passed as always
with them growing taller,
bolder, a little more aware
of wisdom’s cost
and the one they lost.
Paul NP Feb 2021
Deep sleeping delta breathing
Breath of subtle water air
Salivating in mid summer airs-
Night view on the dark pavement.
Hands on it feeling upward rising
Warmth. Gazing up at the sun
Red, Pink, Orange and Blue coalescing infinitely.
The Sky Earth Action in my memories
m e m o r i e s
Rollercoaster Dec 2020
We're kids- all of us.
Then,
why do we force each other to grow up?
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