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Francie Lynch Feb 14
If not this week,
Then this year.
If not this year,
Then next year.
              
This year.
                  Next year.
Some year.
                  Not never.

What is time? Space?
Will it matter?
Nat Lipstadt Jan 14
easily,
with an optimism misguided,
that both volume and quality
of what lay within was
infinite,

a beaker that could never
be drained, nor overflow,
brimming and believed,
in the always
of a
next poem!

know better,
known worse,
and the only poems that are birthed,
all flawed, lesser,
the curse of worse,
time wrenching
the best words away,
alas!
spend, spent, sent…
it was writ as a hope,
now, a  false prophecy
and woe
misbegotten


<>>

Jan. 13, 2014

a  flawless poem

if such there were,
will always be,
the next one

my poor soul,
my rag tag heart
has no censor,
so careless, reckless,
as if words were but
frivolous treasures,
easy spent, easy get


if only, how I wish I
could harvest my best,
with golden cutlery excise
the single flawless poem,
that I know in my possess


lay down this hand so weary
from cupping tears,
be satisfied at long last,
so much so,
that my casket lowered,
hands in repose companioned,
clutching his best, easing his rest,
a paper record to join his ash,

his flawless poem,
at long last
flawless anniversary
Savio Fonseca Oct 2023
I'm hiding Myself,
behind this curtain of 'Rain'.
My Life, has committed Sins
and I'm now, feeling the Pain.
I'm tired of listening,
to the sound of My Tears.
They've been falling and falling,
for way too many Years.
Finally, I reached to God.
With both My Hands Folded.
He kept counting, My Sins
and in the end, had Me Scolded.
Satan stopped counting My Sins,
as they never seem to End.
He pushed a note down My Door,
"No place Here, for U My Friend"
Jellyfish Oct 2023
When I have no where left to go
I come back to this blog where I feel known.
I type for hours, and don't expect flowers
This page is comfortable, it fits my tone.

If you trace my journey from the start,
There's tears in many moments; a piece of my heart
Years may have passed, but in every part,
Words have been my solace, a work of art.

In this digital haven, where stories are sown,
I've found my refuge, a place to be shown.
Amongst kindred spirits, I've truly grown,
In pixels and text, my feelings flow
Thanks for always being here He,Po
Nomkhumbulwa Oct 2023
Twenty years ive known you,
Shocking as this sounds,
Back then I was a different person
My identity not yet found

I remember it well,
Meeting you online,
Intruiged by another culture
You were the mysterious one online!

I was obsessed with Geography
Knew every flag of the world
Spent hours staring at maps
I would never get bored

I knew I never belonged
In the land I was living then
So the atlas was an escape
From the confusion since I was ten

You spoke a different language
From the mysterious side of the world
I was fascinated by and drawn to
This different side of the world

It was an honour to meet you
I felt I was so lucky!
I now had a Russian friend
Although his English hard to comprehend

This made it just more interesting,
It showed language didnt matter
We were still able to communicate,
Even by postal letters!

I was young, insecure,
Brainwashed too at that time,
So this escape was a relief
The mysterious person online!

You temporarily rescued me
From the weirdness of my home
I dont have many fond memories
But meeting you was one

I bought a book because of you,
Called "learn Russian in 3 months"
I was drawn to the Cyrillic alphabet,
But only now 20 years on can I use it!

Russian in 3 months was hilarious,
It was never going to work
Three years yes maybe,
Thats what the title should be!

But such was your desire for English
Your skills overtook mine,
Now im surrounded by Russians,
....I wish Id learned more at the time!

By the time you came to visit
Id escaped to Scotland,
I was somehow free,
Although not yet entirely

The brain is great at deleting
Large parts of my life
But you kept all the postcards and letters
I was so surprised!

These things are like treasure,
Reminders of lost time,
Its good to regain the happy parts
And leave the rest behind

The phone call still makes me laugh
It took you so long to say each word
Even my cruel mother gave up
Trying to wait for the words

I remember the day so well
She called me to the phone
Told me theres a message
Then she left me alone!

Weird behaviour for my mother
The perplexity on her face
As she listens to the message
From a mysterious place

Now twenty years on
You've rescued me again
I got myself in a pickle
And you came up with a plan

Most people didnt care
Those I chose to tell
Except an angel, Patricia,
Her Nigerian name too long to spell

She didnt even know me
I met her through a friend
A friend from Burundi,
Now living in Scotland

In my hopeless depressing reality
Sat in a place called Gillingham,
I spoke to you most evenings
You again allowed me to escape

I looked forward to reading your writing,
Learning more about your life,
Now with your improved English
I wanted to read it all night

You knew I was desperate to leave,
And you suggested Armenia,
A country I had heard of
But shamefully only little

Meeting you in Armenia
Was the best decision by far
The best decision I had made,
Since being torn from Africa

I knew very little about it,
And yet I was ready to go!
It just shows how desperate I was
To escape from where I never planned to go

I have to say, you saved me,
If only from myself
And of course from the NHS
Who probably would have killed me

They say things happen for a reason
The universe makes a plan,
So I guess if I wasnt deported,
I might not have seen you again

You have changed my life for the better,
Although you say you dont do charity,
You even left me with your bank card,
As well as a way to make money

You may not see yourself as kind,
But that is all I see,
And I have always loved you
Ever since I was twenty :)
brandychanning Jul 2023
near three years, nearer to eclipses,
since last scribed here, been there
been loved, mistreated, done my share
of giving beatings, for the deserving,
never been any body’s biatch, no starting
now=ever.

men look at me, their eyes self-seducing,
a crook(ed) finger never summoned me
or any self respecting woman of valor,
with a full fist of words, a tongue sharper
than a deli slicer, if looks can ****, then
left my fair share of men on the Riviera,
the Hamptons, the Gold Coast, uptown
and way downtown where the cool kids
pretend play @ being prey hunting grownups.

ya, hear your thinking and it’s stinking,
my generated magno-electric vibes that’s
to blame, get this kids! never your fault
being whom you the actual F are, it’s their filters
that ***** their vision, their desires unbidden,
casual dispensed, thinking glory is theirs to share.

my road is not broken, there are signs even I spot,
when the man I crave is nearby, whose calm is not
couched cool, who doesn’t wear his possessions on
his sleeve, one who says adventure, yes, let’s go,
never saying when, for the only when is what both crave,
the loving of immediacy of “right now,” and add
to that pithy, my name, Brandy, acknowledging it’s
me, just me, he addresses and not some vision that
was crafted by others into an ideal,  and ‘because’ is
not sufficient but the perfect rationale, to trust what
your absent father called your “finely tuned instincts for
human finery, humans who eclipse ordinary stars

Lydia Apr 2023
Life is so boring
at this present moment in time
I could not be more burnt out with my routine
my job
my weekends
my appearance
the people around me
everything
It is no one’s fault but my own that this mindset is upon me
I have not done anything new in the past few years
I’ve been in the same town
in the same job
doing the same exact thing every day as if it is Groundhog Day
the worst part about it is
I have no idea or motivation to do anything else
I am well into my late 20s and life is comfortable
it’s confusing because it’s good
but also not because I have no moments of
“I can’t believe this is my life! How amazing!”
Is it too early for me to be having a midlife crisis at 28?
In my world as it is right now
I am not depressed so much as if this is what life is going to be like, I’m going to continue spending a lot of time waiting for the end of the day
pnam Jan 2023
As the day goes by one by one
Weeks into months as they run
Months into years times done
Memories of you grows by ton
A fresh new year my love dear
Wishing health happiness cheer
Changes of time, can't control
        But
Wishing this love stays whole !
2023 Jan 1
Anais Vionet Dec 2022
Gigi Hadid wore pearls, a t-shirt and jeans to Paris fashion week. So, our (Lisa, Leeza and my) theme for this New Year’s Eve is “Jeans and pearls.” To be accurate, Gigi’s distressed, slouchy bottom, boyfriend jeans were embroidered with pearls - the pearls weren’t worn as a necklace - but Lisa and I think anything involving embroidery is a trailer-park trend - so we’ll be wearing strings of pearls. If Karen (Lisa and Leeza’s mom) lets us, that is.

Karen has four strings of Tiffany pearls - called Essential, Ziegfeld, Akoya and South Sea Noble. They’re all 16-inch, single strand strings (which we all prefer) and they range in value from $600 (the Akoya) to the expensive (South Sea Noble) string - that she won’t lend anyone. The good news is, if anyone is thinking of buying me a string of pearls, I can’t tell the difference between the cheap string and the expensive string.

Leeza (Lisa’s 13-year-old sister) wants to be included in EVERYTHING this year, which is funny because last year she either attacked us or completely ignored us. This year, Leeza has a thirteen-year-old’s razor-sharp instincts and relentless curiosity.

As we’re Planning New Year’s Eve, Ethan Bortnick’s song, “Engraving” was playing. It’s a crazy song with middle-school, EMO, angsty vibes. One of the lines of the song is “strip for me”. As the song ends, Leeza suddenly asks us, “Have you two ever been to a *******?”
“No”, I answered.
Lisa said, “Once.”
“What?!” I asked.
“Really?” Leeza gasped, “Spill!” She demanded.
“This has random context,” Lisa begins, “I’ve been inside a ******* once in my life.”
Leeza and I tittered nervously. “I’m scared,” Leeza said, as an aside, grinning and rubbing her hands on her knees, clearly more delighted than scared.
“I was attending a middle school, Model UN conference, at Brown University,” Lisa continued, “and they took all the kids to a ******* for their model UN social.”
I gasped and blurted “There’s NO way this happened.”
“Yes,” Lisa insisted, “you can ask my mom.” she said, with a serious look, “And, and obviously, it was rented out for the night, but they didn’t, like, think to take away any of the normal features. There weren’t any strippers, but they didn’t take the poles down and they didn’t turn off the multiple TV screens on all the walls that were playing their normal rotating video content.”
“Wow,” I said, with my hand over my mouth. Meanwhile, Leeza was chortling like a mad woman and rocking back and forth.
“Everyone walked in,” Lisa went on, “and it was just middle schoolers, thirteen years old. There were pictures of the dancers on the poles, and our history teacher came in, and freaked OUT, saying, “Oh, no, No, NO!” Because it was a school event, we had taken school buses there, it was a boondoggle. They turned us all around and hustled us out of there.”
Leeza had stood up and was twirling with glee. Middle schoolers live for chaos.
“Taken out of context,” I said, “It was crazy you went to a ******* in middle school.”
“It was a jump scare, for sure,” Lisa confirmed, “we went from one vibe, a school field trip, to a *******.”

Anyway, for New Year’s, a lot is still up in the air - undecided - but we’re determined that we want to have a blast. We’re young and we want to support bad ***** energy (BBE).
“Oh, I have a BBE song!” Lisa squeals, “Mafiosa!” (by Nathy Peluso) She names it as it begins playing.

The songs in Spanish and when it ended, I’d looked up the lyrics because my 2 years of Spanish weren’t good enough. I tell Leeza the lyrics go: “Let the bad men fear me, when I arrive in my car - they speed off.”
“Yes!” Lisa Laughs, “We don’t drive - but, YES!”
“Emotionally,” I say, laughing too. “But verse two asks the great question, “What the frack is wrong with men when it comes to women?”
“It’s,” Lisa started, looking up and searching for words, “SUCH a timeless question.”
“Why’d you pick that song?” Leeza asked.
Lisa chuckled,” Because you don’t get more BBE than a female Mafiosa killer.”

Update: Karen agreed that as long as Charles is with us (and really, when isn’t he with us?), we can borrow the three inexpensive pearl strings (worth about 5k). So, I’ll be wearing the Akoya pearls, an Anna Molinari white, basic, cotton-shirt, washed denim cropped jeans with white bridal flats and Lisa and Leeza will wear their own, white tops, jeans, flats and pearls and we’ll be on-theme.

Happy New Year’s Everyone!
BLT Marriam Webster word of the day challenge: Boondoggle: a wasteful activity involving public money or labor.
Psych-o-rangE Sep 2022
3 years
I find a new place
3 years
I wear a new face
3 years
I carry my shame
3 years
I burden my brain

Am I the variable, or a constant in march
It's never too bright and it's never too dark
A rolling snowball or a forest in fire
Border planted flags do not inspire
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