Annual Emerging Poets Slam 2019

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 Your skin, Paler than a jug of farm fresh milk.    Your lips, Dryer than a drought in Death Valley.    Your nose, More crooked than Hillary Rodham Clinton.    Your hair, Rougher than ‘98 Compton California.    Your eyes, Deader than roadkill on I
In a tight connection bound That Mother Nature herself had wound, A leaf and branch exist in unison Until frigid winter steps in.
I know no more impressive masterpiece Than the one all can behold. Countless leagues away, But its art all can know. With the finest painter's brush,
It was measured by a ruler And reached knee-high. Quite a riot it would stir As it climbed high to the sky.  The mighty oak of any place
The high torrent of a single wave Is not always here to stay, For the damp sandy shoreline Provides an impassable divide Between the ultimately free
The breath in your lungs So full and mysterious Will one day be gone  
This thing, it bothers me shakes my entire being it is neverending poison   I have absolutely no idea how to deal with it it breathes inside of me tears away all rational thought
TEARS That Can HEAL an OPEN WOUND  by Delasia Vanterpool   A boy who is very blue, sat by himself in school.
My worth is not in   the shape of my lips the curve of my hips the curl of my toes the shape of my nose   the size of my ass the symmetry of my breasts
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