Alec May 10
Lost in Paris,
But stuck here at home.
Envisioning the cobblestone streets,
Stopping at cafes to escape the heat.
Laughing and smiling in Paris.
The mental trip is a need,
Wanting to be
Lost in Paris.
But stuck here instead,
In Cali.
There are no old buildings
left in this town.
Every one of them
burnt down.
By the Fire Marshall's son. 30 prompt strange or fascinating fact or story.
Come and join the parade
Make no mistake
We march for heartache
For when it all comes down to fade
So take each step in the state
Where there is no fate
To follow along
So come and join our song
Trust me this is what you need
As long as you stay here
You'll never disappear
That is certainly garunteed
On this march tonight
Trust me your host
As our song burns each face alight
So come on down
Let's make a toast
To the town
Of no faith
Where we will bless
Them out of this mess
Trust me the wraith
Who marches with no shame
In the parade
That made
No name
But try to stay
Before it hits five
On this very day
Trust me
And trust in what you can see
bret Apr 23
i helped a lady
take her groceries to her house today.
it was the same lady
i watched cross the street
it was the same lady
i didnt hear walk into the corner store behind me.
it was the same lady
i let the door fall onto.
i couldnt hear her.

she ended up ahead of me on the sidewalk.
grocery bags on the pavement.
phone on her ear.
i walked by her.
she apologized
said she was trying to get help.
we walked together.
she told me 'help' was on the patio
drinking a beer.
she asked where i lived
and i said a street over.
she said she hoped she'd see me around.
and i said maybe not, im going home for the summer.

she asked if i was getting out of the rat race
im too young for the rat race.

she thanked me a lot
and said
'some good karma will come your way
im a firm believer in that'

me too
i said.

i walked home and thought
i should write a poem about
that conversation.
about giving a second chance
about being a kind person.
about karma.

usually when something like this happens
i write the minute i get home

but i didnt.

i realized, i dont think i can write
about happy things
because when they happen
they always ferment until
they're not what they were.

it was a quick high
a genuine moment.
if karma is real
and that woman is right
either im the devil himself
or theres a big check
with my name on it.

before i started writing
i googled seasonal depression symptoms

apparently not talking to anyone between the months of february and may every year is still a horse with no name.

how do you kill a love
you made yourself.

i leave this town in a week
and i feel as broken
and confused
as the shit i tried to leave

all i want to do is jump in the river
to see if i can really swim
and figure it out from there.
this is a little long
and more of a ramble than anything ive written before
its also my 100th poem on this site
so i just want to say thanks
to all that have listened
and to all those that have said kind things
they dont go unnoticed
and i am very appreciative.
this community has done a lot for me
and i have a big project coming soon
that im excited to share
if youre willing to listen.
thank you
i love you
god bless.
Aa Harvey Apr 21

Don’t tell me how to feel, when I feel like this;
Don’t tell me that you’re happy, when I’m so depressed.
Don’t sit there with your girlfriend, giving her a kiss;
Because I just don’t care, about your life of bliss.

I do not care for your sympathy,
Because I live in a town called Apathy.
The town of no-hopers and the town I’m in;
The shitty little town called Apathy.

So don’t sit there with a smile upon your face.
Don’t dare utter those words:
‘The world is such an amazing place.’
Because I live in the rain and I feel like shit.
The sun never shines down on Apathy.

So I do not care for your sympathy,
Because I live in a town called Apathy.
The town of no-hopers and the town I’m in;
The shitty little town called Apathy.

If you feel the same as me;
Or you live in a town like Apathy.
A town of losers; a town of shit!
Then come with me down to Apathy.

Let’s take it over and change a few things.
Let’s welcome only rockers and eject all the trendies.
Let’s all sit down and smoke a spliff.
Let’s drink tequila and rock a few riffs.

I do not care for your sympathy,
Because I live in a town, called Apathy.
The town of no-hopers and the town I’m in;
The shitty little town called Apathy…

Yeah, I live in a town called Apathy,
And it has become like home to me,
For I never want to live outside Apathy,
Because I only care about, the cool people and me.

(C)2013 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Population 681.
Just of the edge of Marlboro County.

2 gas stations.
A Dollar General.
8 churchs.
2 policeman.
Everybody knows everybody. Every dirty little secret is discussed Sunday Morning BEFORE church.

The women wear long dresses down to there ankles.
The men wear there work uniforms and boots.
The teenage boys wear chains and pants that sag.
The teenage girls wear crop tops and booty shorts.

And right in the heart of this small town where everybody knows everybody. A small little stop light.

                       With love,
Marlboro County, Clio, South Carolina
My town.
Carolina Apr 12
The road is too lonely
for this silly town girl.
The road is too dangerous
for this hidden fine pearl.
She has boiling blood
and some vivid dreams
but she has no one,
from most eyes she's unseen.
For the past few years
she wakes up to survive
all by her own
surrounded by lies.
But she breathes and takes courage
to embrace each new day
and in a trance she keeps walking
to the rhythm of lay lady lay.
Nomadic crature,
no home, no men.
Wanderer enchanter,
for how long this life will she stand?
Deep down her core
she wishes to have
a stable surrounding
that more than a heartbeat could last.
So tonight as she risks her light
walking through the road
she repeats to the stars her desire,
not to be forever so alone.
thomas Apr 8
take me back to that
small town in michigan.
with the people i love
and i know who love me.
with snowy mornings
and afternoons with
skies as clear as glass.
with rainy days, the
clouds mirrored in windows.
with the old, blue car
that she always jokes about.
with the late nights where
i held her close to me.

where i didn’t let go.
michigan - the milk carton kids
Sky Apr 3
turned 25 and thought
gotta go back,
high-time for home

(home-time for High)

took the bus, route 31
to the
moral-less high-ground

(text my sister)

"no ID, aware, i'm going"  

look up. and
here we are again, big city
New City  
south-side, home despots
licking baby bottle pop
soda-can sidewalks

little brown brother
drinking Fanta with friends
smoking hot-pot
at Chang's
like apostolic gang
(gang gang)
High's homecoming
(southside Chicago)

inspired by NCT's new song "Yestoday"
go see English lyrics vid
it's lit
Mark's verse
Meg Howell Mar 21
I took a walk down a sloping path
Trees and brambles, nature’s bloodbath

My hands, a guide
My eyes, a map
My mouth, drooling and drawn to that amber sap

The ground below finally led me there
A trusted fort, a quiet town square
A lonely whistle serenading the unsoiled air

A symmetrical tree sat waiting like a snare
For me to take its’ paragon
But, oh, do I even dare?
Reflecting on times spent as a child adventuring through my nana’s backyard.
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