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neth jones Aug 24
familiar
there's no space like home
no company like a handmade family
no way of love like the handsome routine
  no elbow room like the familiar
a spell of life    til
     an itch takes to the brain
and inches of ***** tape spool
ideas of wetter play
     haemorrhage and pool
            and it's jostled
there's no hum like our humanity / it's a slur upon our sanity
Mercury Aug 28
I have this strange feeling. My heart longs for a place.
It’s a strange ache, I’ve never been able to name.

Sometimes I wonder, maybe that’s where you are.
And all these oceans between are what keep us apart.

They say you find your home when you follow your heart.
And maybe mine is already there, waiting in your arms.
that place with comforting as theme overriding,
essentials of dream, complex, shelter, cocoon,
which/whether, almost irrelevant,
if and or,
don't matter when you are at home,
light, fierce sun rays eyes filled,
moonlight stars invading one's composure
now!
time
to alight, feet on the grounding,
rain,
pelting, not an inhibitor to the poem
in me, its resonating drumming me up,
to a beating, a lyric, a thyme of rhyme,
fragrantly repeating in my head, home,
home is where the flagrant poems are
born, delivered by no midwife, from
the ***** of my entirety, all five sensoria,
commanded by multiple generals on
different battlefields, coordinating a
battle plan, exhale, attack, coordinate,
brain, eye, smell, movement, urgency,
taste, words gushed, light emitted from
the fingertips, you cannot write as fast
as required, you, self, afired, and afeared,
losses will be greater than expected, but
no matter when we carry the tide behind
us, sweeping the obstacle of ego, pinging
pain, the hesitation that collapses courage,
oh god, oh me, be brave, lead me into the
breach,
the hole, the aperture that will allow a totality
of me to exit, to escape, to compose, p r o p o s e,
the confines of my uncontrollable uncontained
unconscious natured being and fervent annouce,
on this day,
this poem shall be
written in its fulfilling, exiting fulsomeness,
&
entirety,
and let me rise, raise up, lift and shout,
one more last time, like the first time, praise and glory,
hallelujah to the parts of me that gifted me this
poem in-the unity-of-unison, uncensored, un~
inhibited and finalized momentarily perpetual,
with an amen amendment offered up too all and to
me…
amen, amen, amen
and let us rise up to morrow and once more,
write up to ride to birth the essentials of my next
homebound
be-ing
8/18/25
LA, CA
sorry, no pets
no pets allowed
constantly,
no matter
how much higher
we go above asking price.

they tell us,
tenants have rights,
to formally beg
to keep a pet,
and landlords
must consider
each request.

bite me.

because ares
is apparently
dirtier than a child,
crayon on the walls,
smearing god knows what on tile,
sticking stuff up nose and ears,
to guarantee a hospital stay overnight.

please.

he drinks from human glass.
sleeps like a king.
catches butterflies
and runs at the sound
of a door opening.

he’s neater than i am.
neater than you.
what’s your excuse
for the issues reported,
but never followed through?
this one is about the landlords who paint over bugs and broken promises — while sitting on their high horses, pretending pets are the problem.
August 16, 2025
Oliver Lenz Aug 14
Sitting in my living room,
I want to go home.
Home, to where I belong.
To the oaks that give me shelter,
To the pines that know me well.

I can write this poem in minutes,
Share it with my close ones,
Pour my pain onto the page.
But I can’t be home right now.

Embracing sunlit valleys,
Walking on moss in enchanted forests,
Talking to the land that knows.
The simple life that costs so much.
Oliver Lenz Aug 14
Between my birches I do roam,
Across green plains and forests,
Between my little, secret spaces
That I call home.

I wish my tribe were here,
But it is scattered,
Around the globe,
And nowhere near.

The longing will not cease -
So this is for my tribe,
A bird's song of my home
Where my soul finds peace.
Oliver Lenz Aug 14
There may have been other places
Where my heart fell in love.
But there is only one place
Where my heart, soul and mind connect.

Can only feel around the Lochs,
Can only think in endless glens,
Can only love sleeping on Munros.
Can only write when all connects.

My heart is broken,
My mind is craving,
My soul is crying
When I have to leave again.

Some day I will not leave,
I'll stay with the ones I love.
And when I die among the hills,
My ashes shall mingle with Caledonia.
The Highlands really kicked off my writing earlier this year. There's nothing better than sitting (or sleeping) on hill in Scotland, crafting the next poem.
tenderness and moon
go together
like you on I,
my ever
so daydream,
explorer of my
moonlit soul,
the celestial body
in which I rest
which is to say
you are home.

opening me up,
you found
a milky white lily,
a songbird and
forever
opening me up,
I was an open field,
the sky, rosy & romantic
and in it
lilies danced to
the concurrent
sound of birds, some
a sweet song
and the wind,
a soft scent,
a soft sensation,
my love letter
back to you.
girlinflames Aug 14
It feels right,
but it’s wrong.

The house looks the same—
and yet it doesn’t.

I’m a visitor here.

The house is the same.
I’m the one
who changed.
girlinflames Sep 2
Will this work out?

You removed my face scan
from the building entrance.
I had to say
I was a visitor
in my own home.

But maybe this
isn’t my home anymore.

Maybe I fooled myself
into believing
God would make all things new
again—
if it were His will.
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