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"alotted" poems
At my high school reunion Years from now In the old gym They'll ask, whatever happened to us anyway I won't have an answer for them It'll be a shoulder shrug Upward palms And a colon backslash face They'll move on to my son Or work Or school Or some distant memory which will undoubtadly begin with, "remember that time" And most likely end with, "those were the days" And while they move on with their conversations I will still have a colon backslash face And my mind will be in a completely different time machine than the prom queen and the class clown I will By the end of it all Have devoted what I can only imagine to be significantly more time than alotted Thinking about what did ever happen to us anyway And when I go home to what I anticipate being a beautiful, intellegent, loving wife, girlfriend, fiancee thing She will For a moment Or possibly two moments Not measure up to you And I hope she won't notice my colon backslash face That she'll end up smiling until she falls asleep The morning after my high school reunion I will stand in front of my mirror And for much longer than two moments I will not measure up To the man you could have made me And I will notice I will start by ******* in my gut Running my hands through my hair to try and imagine myself with a different style I will analyze my wardrobe And half way through auditing my music collection I will fall to the floor I will cry And with you in the forefront of my mind I will In true movie scene fashion Whisper to no one Whatever happened to us anyway And worse than not having an answer at the reunion I won't have an answer for myself In an empty living room Because I really don't know whatever happened to us anyway One day we were The next day we weren't It was so adult I was so civil Even our break-up will be the best I ever had The day before my high school reunion I will cut my hair Trim my arm pits And clip my beard I will iron a suit Pick a good tie And I imagine In front of a mirrror I will Be proud of the man I have become In the years going forward And leading up to that high school reunion I will As a matter of life's course Have no other occasion To ask myself Whatever happened to us anyways But never the less One night Years from now That question Will leave me paralyzed Scared Heartbroken Lonely And even if I am not alone My pillow will remember For one night Or maybe even two nights How to smell like you And my arms If only for a half a moment Or possibly one whole moment Will With no luck Reach for you
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Mar 15, 2012
Mar 15, 2012 at 6:47 PM UTC
Nostalgia Say Remember Me
At my high school reunion Years from now In the old gym They'll ask, whatever happened to us anyway I won't have an answer for them It'll be a shoulder shrug Upward palms And a colon backslash face They'll move on to my son Or work Or school Or some distant memory which will undoubtadly begin with, "remember that time" And most likely end with, "those were the days" And while they move on with their conversations I will still have a colon backslash face And my mind will be in a completely different time machine than the prom queen and the class clown I will By the end of it all Have devoted what I can only imagine to be significantly more time than alotted Thinking about what did ever happen to us anyway And when I go home to what I anticipate being a beautiful, intellegent, loving wife, girlfriend, fiancee thing She will For a moment Or possibly two moments Not measure up to you And I hope she won't notice my colon backslash face That she'll end up smiling until she falls asleep The morning after my high school reunion I will stand in front of my mirror And for much longer than two moments I will not measure up To the man you could have made me And I will notice I will start by ******* in my gut Running my hands through my hair to try and imagine myself with a different style I will analyze my wardrobe And half way through auditing my music collection I will fall to the floor I will cry And with you in the forefront of my mind I will In true movie scene fashion Whisper to no one Whatever happened to us anyway And worse than not having an answer at the reunion I won't have an answer for myself In an empty living room Because I really don't know whatever happened to us anyway One day we were The next day we weren't It was so adult I was so civil Even our break-up will be the best I ever had The day before my high school reunion I will cut my hair Trim my arm pits And clip my beard I will iron a suit Pick a good tie And I imagine In front of a mirrror I will Be proud of the man I have become In the years going forward And leading up to that high school reunion I will As a matter of life's course Have no other occasion To ask myself Whatever happened to us anyways But never the less One night Years from now That question Will leave me paralyzed Scared Heartbroken Lonely And even if I am not alone My pillow will remember For one night Or maybe even two nights How to smell like you And my arms If only for a half a moment Or possibly one whole moment Will With no luck Reach for you
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89
Perhaps it is the phenomenon of being constantly, perfectly out of reach that keeps me going in the mornings when there is no glow, & the comfort of living within my alotted skin has vanished. Perhaps it is the season, these months of leaves cascading, that guides me, gently, down.
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Oct 21, 2013
Oct 21, 2013 at 3:07 PM UTC
Almost
In New York there lives a man, Who has everything. The penthouse suite and Lamborghini. The millions upon millions of dollars. Enough to save the man in Syria Starving every night as war wrecks his country. In the twenty-four hours the day has, One man shows compassion; Saves the life of one who would have taken his. The other shuts the door on the ones who love him, Pours another drink of whiskey and ignores them. Every day has twenty-four graciously alotted hours, Meant for us to attempt to change the things we see. Some people misuse it, others abuse it. Still all the same those twenty-four hours should be used for change. There's a woman, broken and beaten, On the streets of Madrid alone. She cries every night over the pain Of the memories of her family. Of the man she thought she knew. Across the world in Tokyo is a girl, She cries for the same thing, A father forgotten in the mess. Who will save them when they come Down on their knees and their worlds Are crashing in? Every day has twenty-four graciously alotted hours, Meant for us to attempt to change the things we see. Some people misuse it, others abuse it. Still all the same those twenty-four hours should be used for change.
0
Oct 2, 2014
Oct 2, 2014 at 4:19 PM UTC
24 Hours Across a Planet
I live in a space between hard and harder. Harder Shaped my life under shapers of elastic. Elasticaly snapped back in and out .Boomerang! Boomeranged after i swung perspectively and precisely Precisely bounced in my face like attempt never occured. ReOccurring in my situation i tend to fall back. back and lost in my own sauce . Sauce spilled in a carpet room ..where to start. Start from a different angel or stick to my script. Scripted in a manaul of life's virtual reality Reality is fading now falling apart Apart cant be defined. Defined as real or fake become the dark truth. Truth told to many and lied to alot . Alotted time to make sense of none but un told truth amended into what is real. Real set back time if not percieved correctly. Correct settings is what i needed to find, finding out assuming reality is what set me correctly back.
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Jan 29, 2017
Jan 29, 2017 at 7:36 PM UTC
Real spaced time
my heart no longer wonders or wanders but beats with a serenity scorched by chaos and left alone alone with my thoughts pain but then forgiveness my thoughts it is finished peace in the storm
0
Sep 8, 2022
Sep 8, 2022 at 1:41 AM UTC
no more than alotted