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Kris Fireheart Oct 2023
As the curtains,
Begin to close
On my Windowpanes,
Who knows?

I'm so uncertain,
About the way this goes....

And I've been searching,
I've just been searching,
But for whom,
Nobody knows,

Still I'm uncertain,
'Cause there's so many paths,
I don't know where to go,

If life came
With a manual,
I'd have likely had a home,

Maybe family,  
And maybe friends,
And maybe something of
My own...

Perhaps satisfaction,
Or maybe action,
But tonight I
Ride on alone...

Just a lone wolf,
Still uncertain,
Who wonders
When he'll find
A home...
This poem is dedicated to myself and those like me. The wanderers. The hermits.  The wise ones who choose to discard the monotony of society in exchange for the chance to experience true life on their own terms.

This is dedicated to the Tribes, Still out there, living as we should be,  as one and at peace.
--Kris Fireheart,  Wolfpack tribe, second chair.
I’m starting to believe that this nomadic lifestyle
Ain’t at all for the faint of heart
Thousands of places in so little time
Exhausted but I can’t stop yet as no one place holds extreme value to me
Footprints in the sand tell a story of where I’ve been
Darkness engulfs me and makes it harder to decide where to begin
Perhaps I should just ‘eeny meeny miny mo’ it
Since stopping isn’t nearly as important
Thoughts clutter my walkway like precious gems covered by a recent sandstorm
Disgruntled, I glance out over my shoulder
Listening for the whisper of the wind to call out to me
But wait… I’m getting a head of myself
That’s dangerous when you’re a nomad
Whatever is waiting around the next bend
A mystery waiting to be unveiled
Like a grieving widow, mourning her sanity
I run
Disjointed from reality
I feel no pain
Opinions stabbing me like shards of glass
Dripping with the blood of identity
I’m a fraud… and yet, on I run
The tears I’ve cried flow through this deserted land like the Nile
It’s ingenious
They nurture my steps
A suckling waiting to be fed
I travel the worn path
night and day day and night
Stopping only to mark my place
I’ve been here before
And I never even left the comfort of my bed
This journey of a thousand steps
Inside my ever restless mind
Melody Mann Jan 2023
Weary is the wanderer who travels with no true destination,
Hesitant is the past he's abandoned home,
Unconscious is his pursuit with no avail,
Forgotten is her memory as he treads sporadically; endless turmoil.
Heidi Franke Jul 2022
Helping a child with a mental illness and co-occurring disorder such as substance abuse disorder. Our little diamonds who grow up with a broken mind.

Diamonds are in the rough. How long does it take to mine a diamond?

If you as a parent do not have any tools, you will have bloodied hands and feet  and never will you get to where your child can shine without the addictive source.

Diamonds are found in many ways, but to communicate with the diamond, the ore around it is crushed and milled.

Diamonds repel water, but are drawn to grease.

Expect to get down and ***** when helping your addict, but DO NOT, go into the pit. You will be of no help once you are in.
#diamonds #travel #homeless #sand #mentalillness #Addiction
Slime-God May 2022
Perhaps I have died
On this dimly lit morning
I can't find my soul
Were I not so clumsy perhaps my wandering soul would not stray so far afield

though, indeed, it would still follow you, I merely wish to keep up
Bella Isaacs Feb 2022
I'm waiting on a number of things:
When will you reply, though I gave you wings
To fly away if you will, and you have the right;
I'm waiting for inspiration to strike me in the night
That I am again OK without you - I don't need to feel
My heart implode when I read my old poetry, to steel
Myself when I see apparitions of what I had desired,
To blush and reproach myself for being lost, uninspired,
And pining after you again like a whipped cur; When
You hold space for me IRL
And my messages aren't a URL
Of something that I thought would resonate with you, again
I lose myself, hoping I can gain because you gain, and then
It just feels like I'm throwing my love into a void, again.
I don't just give energy like that; I don't just give thoughts;
I was divinely inspired, and I thought your beauty grand
And lovely, and still those aren't the words, and still this Noughts
& Crosses is a stalemate; And you're cross, and I'm five grand
For nought, and flippin' babbling because I'm so, so lost
And I long for your presence and your voice for me, warm as toast,
Nourishing as honey, real like salt, alive for water, and eternal
And lavender. I can forget roses, even if you like them too; lavender, like you, is eternal.
I miss you, J.
Coralium Aug 2021
maybe the point of arriving is finding one who´s just as lost
Brett Jul 2021
Forever falling
Through the open hearts of outstretched arms
Tunnel vision of the past
Paves the roads ahead
The off-ramps of destiny are untamed, forgotten, and overgrown
No safety awaits me, and
There is no shelter under the roof of a broken home
Storms chase me, but
In thunderclouds I drown out the world
Weary of only the weather
Inside his own reflection
Diljeev Apr 2021
this beautiful heist
of each other's soul,
blind to what she stole,
oblivious to her core.

Yet it was her own being,
that helped me in fleeing
each day,
but we never crossed paths
since the dawn of may.

The blind mademoiselle,
there's no way she could tell,
it was she who gave me eyes,
reason to wander in the world
looking for her
as each waking minute dies.
Isaac afunadhula Mar 2021
He stood on the front porch
wandering through
Anger in his voice as he speaks
The message on his face could be
He roams with misery everywhere he goes
His reputation preceeds him
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