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A M Ryder Aug 2021
I'm afraid to be
In my house
I'm afraid to be
Out of it
Because there
Are knocks
On my door
When nobody's there

Because I hear people
Whispering in
My basement

And because if
I sleep
Too long
I know it's
Gunna come back
stillhuman Aug 2021
You tell me
you're strong
And I can see it
in your eyes
The way your stories lay
right behind
It's much easier
to trust a stranger
than your own kind
and tell them everything
that's been on your mind
Status : strangers
Relationship : high
Relationship: high
Humans truly are a wonder, this is inspired by a real conversation I had with a stranger today. I loved listening to them, they had so much to say, it got emotional
And we parted with smiles on our faces and felt connected
Beautiful, isn't it?
kay Aug 2021
for if one day,
one day,
we're destined to meet again
let's pretend, that you and I,
vous et moi,
are complete strangers

who stumble upon one another for the very first time.

for the history of us,
the you and I of the old renaissance,
the you and I,
who even made Paris and Helen envious

has ceased to exist.
that's what you've always wanted, isn't it?
One day, somehow
your name will sound again
and my name makes you feel
become abstruse.

Often,
time is not the answer
which we have been looking for.

You may have received
something that was once foreign to you.
I now have to
to be stranger
and accept it.

We have agreed to marry.
You marry the person you feel is right for you.
I married loneliness
which I feel will never be right
and that you have given me.

You are now busy at work.
I'm busy loving now
scenes
now
never again

there is.
Indonesia, 12th August 2021
Arif Aditya Abyan Nugroho
caden Aug 2021
I often think.
I wrote that first line and almost left it as a poem by itself because those three words are a nice summarization of what I wish I could say when someone asks me “How are you”

See the phrase, “I often think” pretty much describes my mood no matter the day, time, age or circumstance that I might be going through.
I think about everything, all of the time.
In fact there hasn’t been a moment since I was born when I wasn’t thinking about something

When someone asks me how I am doing, I long to reply with “i often think”
Because replying with “better than I deserve” or “well I’m just living the dream” has never felt right to me.
Every single time I have been asked the basic question of how are you. It physically pains me to say, “good, and how about yourself”
And I shorten my answer to the acceptable one, because what I really want to say at that moment would take up too much time from the sweet smiling lady who asks me that at the drive through because she asks the question out of habit.

When I am asked “How are you” I desperately wish I could respond with, “I often think.”
Because there is no doubt in my mind that the people I pass by every day who do not know me,
Often think.
And it is such a shame that we do not answer that question with what we are often thinking about.
Carlo C Gomez Aug 2021
I.
Fireman, censor of literature and destroyer of knowledge, with his mighty flamethrower. He loves his work. He loves trouble and strife. He loves fascination with the people next door. Mostly, he loves his hammock. But sleep will be his final unrest.

II.
A gift for the darkness: reading from the forbidden kept hidden in the air-conditioning duct. The walls within turn on and off like Cora Pearl. His wife listens to far winds and whispers and soap-opera cries, sleep-walking, helped up and down curbs by a husband who might just as well not have been there. They walk on as an extinguished connection. In the flickering of his eyeballs, he dreams of driving recklessly to Dover Beach and drowning her.

III.
Burning bright. He is burning so brightly. In the factory of mirrors, he takes a hard look. He's a flammable book. And it's a pleasure to burn. "What are you doing?" She asks. "Putting one foot in front of another." He answers.
selina Aug 2021
it took me two years to get back
on a train to the lower east side
back to the starting ground

but when i arrived this morning
in our little corner of this place
it felt something like a ghost town

so many faces fluttered by
but not a single one i recognized
i felt like a stranger in my hometown

i left to chase my dreams of permanence
but now nostalgia and memories ring aloud
and all of our old apartments have been torn down

what is left for my wandering heart?
not you, not home, nothing else in this town so
i bought a ticket for the next train, and i'm leaving now
dilshé Jul 2021
Strangers; estranged to eachother
desensitize the soul of another
judgement & diversification -
forefront of a bad implication
you feel - so taken out of context
then you hypothesize the mind of the next
& memorize those objectified persons
but realize; these are empty aversions..
for that stranger too - is similar to you
in a complex existence, lost in the blues
faces complications,
the same symptoms of life
same alterations
of both bliss, sadness & strife
though it seems you're the cynosure
& them; the background noise
though they say,"I'm the protagonist"-
& you're just a little voice
Every stranger, every soul of your life-
whatever role-
possesses a mind as intricate as yours
a life as labyrinthine -
although not shown.
stillhuman Jul 2021
I knew already
what has again been proven
that people are kind
and human kindness is moving

After all the hurt and trials

they reach out
with velvet hands
to carress a small dog
their voices hightened
to make it wag its tail

they smile back brightly
the child in each of them
still thriving
as they look out to the world
in curiosity and wonder

they open up their hearts
so easily so willingly
as if family means much more
than what it says on the tin

and flustered
they take compliments
and share their wisdom
with eyes and minds full of story

Such small things
really make you wonder
how we could create war
when there's beauty in our core
Guess the city taught me more than the smallness of my existence, huh?
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