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Sometimes I feel I've abandoned much of myself,
I get a longing for self-expression; I just don't know
who I am, who I should be.

Among them I'm honored,
I feel we are unique and genuine.
It's long written, a kinship that bonds the group.
We passed thru the millennium together.
Reflections after Róisín's birthday.
Man Jun 2023
Charred remains, of jungle burned:
Fire steeped, laotian leaves.
Who we lost, in what we earned;
For the love of ******,
Of sweet release.

Korean craters, Mexican invaders, &
The Boxer rebellion.
The sinking of Maine, the panamanian strait;
Meuse–Argonne, inherent freedom

Is there a place, for the peaceable to congregate?
Versailles, Geneva, Nuremberg, Tokyo.
What point to rules are made,
When no one follows them.
Bagram, Mai Lai, Tiananmen, the Chechen genocide

Is it merely in our nature;
To fight, and argue, divide?
We can conquer, but can we conquer
The lust that is
The love of tribe
SiouxF Nov 2022
We all long to belong,
To find our community,
Our family,
Our place of safety and refuge.
But feeling different to other people,
An outsider,
Of no fixed abode,
I’m not sure where I belong,
Or who my tribe is.
I feel confused,
Discombobulated,
Wayward feelings and erroneous thoughts
Running around inside my head,
Misleading me down the garden path,
Tripping me up,
Leading me down holes
That are too deep to climb back out of
Max Neumann Dec 2020
god flew through my coffee this morning;
an intellectual crow entered my apartment,
and it guzzled a sip of the holy brew
me? i didn't take notice, just took notes

a blind writer who seeks the extraordinary,
distracted by a strayed quest for himself
left eye red, the right one black, wolfishly
a tribe of suicidals shattered my eye sight

they were dancing in trance
they were singing in kid's voices:

"we forgotten who we are; our skins crumbling
we don't want to live inside your body; no!
we won't be your voice anymore; we be leaving

golemland is our destination, shelter of letters"
then, the tribe of suicidals left, depriving me of words
My tribe is a
mingling of adjacent hues
finding harmony
complementary

My tribe is a
facet of you and me
a mashup of science and art
an education of the heart

My tribe is a
wisdom bringer
a lighthouse singer
over crimson shoals

My tribe is a
ghost dance partner
a symphonies daughter
a shield for fodder

Cause my tribe is peace
like a captainless ship
like a philosophers quip
like a
"I don't know but I'd like to get it right"
kinda trip

My tribe is yearning
curious and learning
rumbling with vulnerability
spilling over with capability

And every time we think we are there
we go a little deeper
but it isn't complicated
because my tribe is love
Written June 8, 2020 in Lethbridge, Alberta

it is not the how, it is the who and the who is you.
Mystic Ink Plus Apr 2020
Nation needs you
Not because you are RARE
Because you belong HERE
Genre: Inspirational
Theme: Better Human Project || A humane world
Note: Every chaos, every disaster, every pandemic brings back a real story to awaken the human emotions, and gives space of opportunity, either to share hands, touching lives in one way or another, or to watch helplessly and weep for the world. If you can watch the suffering without pain, then this is not for you. Else, be the agent of change, you can change the end of the story, you can change a new story from the beginning, you can change being a part of it. And during the whole process it will be your greatness if you stay behind the scene.

Change the story
With
A little more compassion
A little more generiosity
A little more response
A litle more listening
A little more sharing
A little more love
A little more of
You

Please
Mystic Ink Plus Apr 2020
Who says
[I'm bla bla bla]
[I did bla bla bla]
[I have bla bla bla]
To whom it may concern

Does I'm/I did/I have make you a human?
Are you kind?
Did you learn kindness?
Do you shared your heart?
Do you feel what I feel?

Truth be told
I have nothing to do
With all your
Bla bla bla
That defines you

By default
I don't belong
There
Genre: Experimental
Theme: Better Human Project
Max Neumann Feb 2020
don't think you could
beat the street without
me

it's madov's bossy laughter
and his vossy
attitude

i don't know if
you know what i mean:
solitude

but that's fine my brother
but that's fine my sister

without writing
everything is fist fighting
without fist fighting
everything is writing

i need me a

new language
new lady
thousand babies

and i'll found a tribe
you never heard of it'll
be called

tizzop
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