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Will Storck Jun 2010
When we walked up to the door of our favourite coffee pub
You tangled your fingers around my own
And with a twist of my wrist
We went in

We order our usual from the usuals
The baristas never changed though the drinks did with the seasons
As I pull out the exact change from my coat
You shake some melted snow from your hair

We grab a seat at a nook by the window
There was a ring of dried coffee on the table
I fill it in with my mug
You joke it’s my OCD but I say it’s my love for the unappreciated

We listen to a woman with a guitar at the makeshift stage
She strums off a couple chords and sings with her lips
She fades into the background as I turn to look at you
Your eyes are closed to turn up the volume

I close mine too and let the music direct me
My mind swims like a trapeze *******
I sway with the strings and strums
Your hand grasps mine as I fall into the safety net

The guitarist is packing up
Our coffee or what’s left of it is cold
You lean over and
Two angels kissed like sinners
Two sinners kissed like angels
Swoo Aug 2018
A Cold Affair

She'd been  the queen from the moment she was born everybody felt her. She knew it and at some point became sure of it, but nothing lasts forever in the circle of nature all four siblings got their turn and every one of them brought their own drama with them. She was the cruelest of the four because when she came around everything in it's different existence had their mixed reaction towards her. Some animals would hibernate and humans would almost do the same but for them it was a part time thing specially when her moods were up. She would make them feel her every single move they would get cold, change their usuals clothes and trade them for their warmer versions which usually stay stuffed in the deepest parts of their closets. They'd put on scurves, boots, track suits to hand gluves since even their hands would nearly freeze she was one hell of a cold women. As her circle was nearing the finish line on her last run she would become the meanest. To be honest she was never cruel or mearnt to torment, being cold was the only way she knew how to show love and by the cold breeze and a wave of cold fronts it was her only trying to be remembered as another sibling was about to take their turn. She would over express herself and yes she would be felt as it was winters last goodbye.

Swoo
Misunderstood type of love
Micah Morse Nov 2013
my favorite hat says Love Yourself
because I need the ******* reminder

it’s pink, a color I used to think was girly, and
the brim has a floral print
the kind my mom told me was too flamboyant
   before she knew I was gay
before I needed the advice

but a mother always knows best
or that’s what they say, except
mine still doesn’t

the teacher I hate
used my hat as an example in class (poetic irony)
this is image
this is type
like we couldn’t read the screen

my lazy entitlement
bitter in his space
yet in my own room i still can’t read the words on the page,
or make myself.

i still look for purpose
but the weekend basement usuals tend to call first
(if anyone else called)
and I find comfort in
the ritual
it’s not that I fear responsibility

i’m hiding from myself
if there was a me to find

in the meantime,
i try to Love this
i try to Love something

i don’t usually taste the effort.
SJ Stine Sep 2010
Without you there is no inspiration,
good or bad.
I am lifeless,
there is no feeling,
no emotion.
I am going through the motions of everyday
till you find your way back to me again.
You are in a place where no one knows your name,
you can start fresh,
be yourself.
I am stuck in this dust bowl,
looking for comfort,
seeking out friendships.
You are breathing clean air,
I am ******* in exaust and dust.
You are in an indie rock haven,
ska escape,
metal homeland.
I am swirling in country music,
wailing gospels,
classic rock FM static.
Come home soon.
The usuals miss you.
When I met him for the first time..
It seemed like I was abducted and thrown into a meadow.
It’s jolt was such an impact, yet overwhelmingly mellow.

The breath of fresh air. Away from all my usuals. But most definitely, my type..

And there he was. Standing with his words all over the place, but he’s smarter..
He has them all decorated like an uncomplicated flower arrangement, better !

When I met him for the first time..it felt like he knows..
He knows how to grab my attention, but he does something bigger..
He exposes his soul to me, opens up in a manner that is a little wee..
Now that he’s naked, and raw.. I can finally feel the marks of that paw..that scratched his soul, it wounded my own..

I wanted to tell him, out loud..
That I was here. And that he could count..
Count on me till the end, for this was just a speed bump, the F1 race is far from over..

When I met him for the first time..
There he was, like an open treasure chest, and all I could feel was like Jack sparrow, at his black pearl’s quest.. I wanted to tell him that this is just the intermission, life has it’s own gradualization..

But he looks up, and cracks a joke that’s fake.. he is trying so hard to hide the ache.. but little does he know, that I pile too, When it all gets much too..
but fear is what gets us going.. defines our being.

Suddenly I feel his breath on my shoulder, for now he has taken shelter..
His hands getting colder..
Yet the embrace getting bolder.
He turns to me.. says will I be alright ? And that’s when I know he was already a little better..a little right.

So when I met him for the first time, I asked him too..
If I could drop my curtains..?
All he could do is be all ears.
And listen to all the nasty anecdotes over my years..
And I think, I finally found my soul mate..
who said it had to be someone you marry ? It could be someone with who you can relate..

When I met him for the first time..
It seemed like I was abducted and thrown into a meadow.
It’s jolt was such an impact, yet overwhelmingly mellow.
Shiennina Marae Apr 2014
I
Imagining the girl frightened
Trembling somewhere up ahead
Talked to her as I went along
Doing my best
Reassuring her I meant no harm
My words came
Slapping back at me in a disorienting echo
She asked me to leave her alone
Finding her comfort in silences
Content with the routines, the usuals
Her holy place, very deceiving
The contrasts she loved
I stepped on her words
Said I cannot bear leaving her on her own
Now that I'm here
She didn't have to be
I gave her all that I had
Answered with only a shake of her head
Telling me she doesn't want me around
Kimmy-Nichole Jun 2011
I guess its final;
I am here,
In the same place
The every day
ways of the environments
Of lifes beautiful face-

on every drive
in every way
Its becoming familiar

Maybe a new start
With the Introduction to  
the patterns of the daily usuals

I think another year will be such a brave decision,
A simple leap of trust of responsibility
And realiability
A simple independence;
Proven to be another challenge;
as well as the the midterm
of finding who I am.
J J Jun 2020
Comatosed with open gaze insinuating
Morphine daydreams,
With bristling hairs along arms
Before she had the chance to shave
and the folicles deactivated;
It is her womb she has devoted
For the public eye;
How it slowly rots, from incarnadine
-as the historical pictures aside her show-
To it's current viridian swelter;
Like an ugly robust bruise too tough to die.

Rupturing outward a torridness
Of legs and crooked fingers stuck to half-grip,
Scanning southly one notes globules of goosebumps
Haunting up her thighs,
Pricking cloudward and shivering implying that,atleast,
For a second whilst living she was aware of this—
Her impending fate.

Red,red,red lips
bud close to form a cute,poppish image,
Honouring those photographers who come and go—
Her tiny hands are posited to corner her tiny *******
As not to stir any further controversy.
The lady in the jar awaits the usuals,while blind
to her own doing so,

Mind overrun and on display like a faulty calculator
Via that dull, happy, gaze.

She smells up the room of exquisite perfume and
Quixotic trees and fields and roads and too much more to mention...

The fee these stranger's would scavage from their pockets
Just to be awarded a chance to touch
The fair lady’s skin and determine a better verdict
As to whether or not she meant all that much to the world
at all.
So mom told me " I don't know what we are going to eat tomorrow ".
I decided to leave my beauty 
'cause I knew "Pretty" was going to keep us away from starvation in the next morning. 
Tight dress, I wore.
9 inches heel, I wore. 
Red lipstick, I wore.
Mascara
Blush
Mud or whatever the usuals call it " a Coverage".
I once heard " Pretty " makes you the centre of attention. 
I heard that "Pretty" fills your pocket for a day.
I mean no jobs.
Lack of education. 
What is there for me to have a profession in?
Millions spent to change streets that already have names.
Pastors don't practice what they preach. 
Case documents missing 
And Lawyers being caught in the middle. 
Governments expanding their estates with the nation's money 
Who are we to trust these people with our lives?
Who am I not to use my Pretty flaw to cash up?
Who am I to criticise, when I too is breaking the image of womanhood? 
Yes, "Pretty" struck an *** of a man's eyes.
Boxers who can't read or write earn millions for a round. 
I get R200 for a round
Battling with a stranger
Pretty smashes beauty.
Him winning the round
Me losing myself
        Losing self-respect
        Losing womanhood. 
But still we had a something to eat the next morning and night. 
My mom smiled not knowing where it all came from.
So mom told me " I don't know what we are going to eat tomorrow ".
I decided to leave my beauty 
'cause I knew "Pretty" was going to keep us away from starvation in the next morning. 
Tight dress, I wore.
9 inches heel, I wore. 
Red lipstick, I wore.
Mascara
Blush
Mud or whatever the usuals call it " a Coverage".
I once heard " Pretty " makes you the centre of attention. 
I heard that "Pretty" fills your pocket for a day.
I mean no jobs.
Lack of education. 
What is there for me to have a profession in?
Millions spent to change streets that already have names.
Pastors don't practice what they preach. 
Case documents missing 
And Lawyers being caught in the middle. 
Governments expanding their estates with the nation's money 
Who are we to trust these people with our lives?
Who am I not to use my Pretty flaw to cash up?
Who am I to criticise, when I too is breaking the image of womanhood? 
Yes, "Pretty" struck an *** of a man's eyes.
Boxers who can't read or write earn millions for a round. 
I get R200 for a round
Battling with a stranger
Pretty smashes beauty.
Him winning the round
Me losing myself
        Losing self-respect
        Losing womanhood. 
But still we had a something to eat the next morning and night. 
My mom smiled not knowing where it all came from.
skyy omalley Jun 2020
ed,,zinger suivante,,tels handknits finish,,cagefuls basinlike bag octopodan,,imbossing vaporettos rorid easygoingnesses nalorphines,,benzol respond washerwomen bristlecone,,parajournalism herringbone farnarkeled,,episodically cooties,,initiallers bimetallic,,leased hinters,,confidence teetotaller computerphobes,,pinnacle exotically overshades prothallia,,posterior gimmickry brassages bediapers countertrades,,haslet skiings sandglasses cannoli,,carven nis egomaniacal,,barminess gallivanted,,southeastward,,oophoron crumped,,tapued noncola colposcopical,,dolente trebbiano revealment,,outworked isotropous monosynaptic excisional moans,,enterocentesis jacuzzi preoccupations,,hippodrome outward googs,,tabbises undulators,,metathesizing,,sharia prepostor,,neuromast curmudgeons actability,,archaise spink reddening miscount,,madmen physostigmin statecraft neurocoeles bammed,,tenderest barguests crusados trust,,manshifts darzis aerophones,,reitboks discomposingly,,expandors,,monotasking galabia,,pertinents expedients witty,,chirographies crachach unsatisfactoriness swerveless,,flawed sepulchred thanksgiver scrawl skug,,perorate stringers gelatine flagstones,,chuses conceptualization surrejoined,,counterblasts rache,,numerative,,delirifacients methylthionine,,mantram dynamist atomised,,eternization percalines hryvnias pragmatizing,,reproachfulnesses telework nowts demoded revealer,,burnettize caryopteris subangular wirricows,,transvestites sinicized narcissus,,hikers meno,,degassing,,postcrises alikenesses,,sycophancy seroconverting insure,,yantras raphides cliftiest bosthoon,,zootherapy chlorides nationwide schlub yuri,,timeshares castanospermine backspaces reincite,,coactions cosignificative palafitte,,poofters subjunctions,,aquarian,,theralite revindicating,,cynosural permissibilities narcotising,,journeywork outkissed clarichords troutier,,myopias undiverting evacuations snarier superglue,,deaminise infirmaries teff hebephrenias,,brainboxes homonym lancelet,,lambitive stray,,inveigled,,acetabulums atenolol,,dekkos scarcer flensed,,abulias flaggers wammul boastfully,,galravitch happies interassociation multipara augmentations,,teratocarcinomata coopting didakai infrequently,,hairtails intricacy usuals,,pillorise outrating,,cataphoresis,,furnishings leglen,,goethite deflate butterburs,,phoneticising winiest hyposulphuric campshirts,,chainfalls swimmings roadblocked redone soliloquies,,broking mendaciousness parasitisms counterworld,,unravellings quarries passionately,,onomatopoesis repenting,,ramequin,,mopboard euphuistically,,volta sycophantized allantoides,,bors bouclees raisings sustaining,,diabolist sticks dole liltingly,,curial bisexualisms siderations hemolysed,,damnabilities unkenneling halters,,peripheral congaing,,diatomicity,,foolings repayments,,hereabouts vamosed him,,slanters moonrock porridgy monstruous,,heartwood bassoonist predispositions jargoon dominances,,timidest inalienable rewearing inevitably,,entreating retiary tranquillizing,,uniparental droogs,,allotropous,,forzati abiogenetic,,obduration exempted unifaces,,epilating calisaya dispiteously coggles,,vestmented flukily ignifying complished hiccupy municipalize,,pentagraphs parcels sutler excavates,,stardust miscited thankfulness,,fouter pertused,,overpacks,,guarishes hylotheism,,pi Fresh blood seeps through the line parting her skin and slowly colors her breast red. I begin to hyperventilate as my compulsion grows. The images won’t go away. Images of me driving the knife into her flesh continuously, ******* her body with the blade, making a mess of her. My head starts going crazy as my thoughts start to return. Shooting pain assaults my mind along with my thoughts. This is disgusting. Absolutely disgusting. How could I ever let myself think these things? But it’s unmistakable. The lust continues to linger through my veins. An ache in my muscles stems from the unreleased tension experienced by my entire body. Her Third Eye is drawing me closer.
Lara Trujillo Mar 2020
I feel like me when you drop me off
when I come home safe and sound
I have a thing for all things soft
with the corners going rough
I can never seem to get enough.

I want to be a man
God, I want to be a man so bad

I feel like me when you gift me drinks
the usuals, you know well which they are
I feel like me when you don’t feel me
A good time you promised I’d adore
I don’t feel like a woman anymore

I want to be a man
God, I want to be a man so bad
Being a woman is very hard
Jowlough Mar 2019
I am the process;
The traversing of mountains
In threadlike loopholes
And narrow passages
Of patient waitings
And trembling muses;
Stronger and sturdier
Than the age old woodwork,
Patient like hachiko
Emptiness was never
A strange phenomenon
That should be pondered
Wandered, instead conquered
Purposely testing
Water depth mocking
The norms and the usuals
People are unusual
Strange as it may be
Talkish boy you come and see
Coastal air and hot tea
Staples of synthwave
Let me be.
thankyou

today i prepare

to soujourn before

real winter comes

we ( he) only cut the back

yesterday and it looks good

bringing new plans, solid ideas

like responsible adults have

using language of the usuals

made in conversations and

the media

the front grass is timetabled

early november

meanwhile i research paving

and carpeting colours

indoors i hear podcasts

stuff i should know

owls and falling rain

which  did falleth

until the language changed

so now it falls

as do conkers

i wonder if i may mesg

you via phone; you see

i looked at the reviews

and the wifi is till dodgy

we shall see

go safely

i enjoyed your writing

with tea
Carolyn Diana May 2022
When people ask me "How are you?"
To most I'd just say "I'm fine".
An automatic response like I'm a robot.

And to the some I'd say
"I'm still alive, thanks for checking up on me"

"Unfortunately alive" if I'm not in the mood and

"The prodigal son returns" when It's a long time no see.

They'd laugh. They know I'm not one with usual response. Not really the "Good morning" or "Good whatever" person. I'd rather get to the point of actual conversation skipping the usuals.

When people see me they'd fill me with adjectives and all I do is flash a smile and ignore. I'm not good at compliments. But to some I'd grin, smirk even and tell the ugly parts besides what's seen.

I'd tell how
"Extra inches would make me stand tall"
or how "Inches off my waist would make me embrace myself more".
I would tell how I don't use "Concealer to conceal my scars"
or even "Bronzer to highlight my features".
I tell them how "I'm okay with no beauty parlour"
or how "My eyebrows, hair looks".

Somedays I walk a "STAR" and somedays "HOMELESS". It doesn't matter to impress.

Some would tell
"You're already beautiful without any"

while some would tell
"Why the insecurities? Just embrace yourself"

and some
"I wish you loved yourself enough to know your worth".

I'd like to tell them the truth but never mind I'd nod and shrug.

I'm odd. Always been. I never fit in the crowd.
I'm not an introvert. I lie between the lines.

I mostly have a stern face and cold stare that I could chase anyone across a mile from approaching or so I've been told.

I've been given other adjectives too, apart from looks. Looks can be deceiving. I was always judged having an innocent face, they'd say
"You're not the one to endure worse in life."

I'd like to tell
"LIFE ***** ALL" but then I'd simply smile, make them believe I agree.

I have a tendency to laugh at myself. I'm good at that. Since I was a child I've been called names and they don't offend me at all.

I'm more of "What-ifs, Buts" than "Ands".
They say "You're such a pessimist".
I'd like to tell "I'm realistic" but I've come to accept not all are "ME" and it's okay to let them live in their bubble of perception. I've known the difference between fitting in and standing out and it doesn't matter to me what others think. Society never pleased me anyways.

It's not that
"I don't know my self worth or not love myself enough" that I let others make me fall.
I know when to hold on and when to let go.
"I'm a slave for love.

In love, pain and happiness go hand in hand. But if it's only pain then it's about time you question yourself, why?"

Respect to some has been wiped off from their dictionary but to me it stands first. I'm a mess like the rest but I don't linger on the brokenness.

Appreciating beauty comes naturally to anyone but"What's self love if I can't love the ugly parts of me?"
And "What's your love if you can't understand me to appreciate enough?"
I'd say you don't know me at all.

So, when I talk to you about how damaged I am it's just a test to know your threshold over mine.

I adore the "IMPERFECT ME" to the extent that I don't get offended when people try to bring me down.

And that my friend is how "I ******* LOVE MYSELF."

— The End —