2013 scholarship slam
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I didn't want to, but I picked the glass up and took a sip.It was horrible and I told my father there was no way I could get this terrible tasting st
One day when I was 13 and in the 8th grade, I had gotten the stomache flu and had to stay home from school.
My father took his trusty knife, wrapped her hands around it and they slit that rabbits throat without a sound.
I started feeling really dizzy and nauseous and was crying so badly, I could barely see nor breath through the tears.
I don't remember what set this next incident off with my father, I just remember it was one of the things that showed me just how much of a psyco nut
It ended tonight,all the happieness has left my soul.
it is about time that you all left me alone.
Actor, business man, football player, teacher-
dream jobs, dream goals,
different forms, different roles,
mind and heart, brain and matter
to each their own,
in my dream i save the world-
I live in a world where passion lies deep and no one is willing to dig.
Pass me my shovel piling sweat and tears,
I will dig for not only your souls, but mine.
I love you, and passion will be restored.
Two hands grew five flared fingers, no longer scared.
Fear not lingers in my beating heart, perplexed,
Prepared.
Bice and fore outstretched and flexed
I'm edgy for my start
One job could save my life
Make me live or make me die
Make me happy or make me cry
One job could save my life
Thinking your life is right on track,
Then a sharp turn sends you spinning off course
Slowly and steadily you move back to where you left off
As things get back into place,
You decide to take e a short cut.
Excruciating Love
Never have I encountered such a plight
In which my heart contradicts its morals.
Her skin is dun, while mine is fairly light
What would you change scholarship slam
What would you do?
What would you change if you had the chance?
What would you make different?
Would you be selfish and change things that only benefit you?
I am the inspiration in a writer’s colorful, exotic, painting.
I am the warmth in a fuzzy pair of winter mittens.
I am the bright segment of colors in a dull room.
It was a job for most
They were run down, tired, overworked
He was different
He spoke to me
Made math fun
School was hard
But Math was fun
This one time
In middle school
Easy nor Quick.
Never Once must I Falter,
During The Challange
To Obtain
Occupational Perfection.
The Road Ahead,
Found to be Rocky,
Yet I must Persevere
To Obtain
one job may change my life
but what about others?
the life I live and the life they live
they intertwine
if my dream job changes my life
how can i change the lives of others
If I don't scream, do I still feel pain?
The answer is yes. My pain is real and hides behind walls
I do not let it get in my way
I stand above it, I show the world that I am stronger
Although you are sound asleep,
I lay awake counting sheep.
I can't dream of anything better,
than picturing you in that ugly cat sweater.
Your smile lit up in the dark,
you say, hey, I'm Mark.
The curtain closes around a bed of white
Beep beep ringing in my ears
Bright flashing of fluorescent light
As a woman sits there spilling tears
Death is unfair and sadly sweet
Words are dominant and strong, yet dainty. Words bring the thoughts and emotions buried deep in a subconsciousness to life and breath.
Holding on so tightly of everything you know,
Only to find that you want to let it go,
What happens when all the hate and a taboo
Becomes Who you are,
What happens when What you love
Tears your family apart,
What could it hold?
Behind the curtain's fold.
Behind every act, every play, there are players and the played
behind the velvet, a game of secrets played.
What of it?
Behind the curtain's fold.
Honestly
My dream job is to be spokesperson
As a surivor of sexual child abuse
I believe I have a lot to say
To stand for
And to do
I did not just survive for myself
I didnt know
That you loved me
We seemed like best friends
Your love I couldnt see
Pass that smile
Pass that face
Everything seemed fine
Together in place
But then i found out
I don't know what my dream job is,
but whatever I do, I want to make a difference.
I don't care about earning dollars and cents
which I can use to buy a car or a house with a nice, big fence.
I get used to the feelingBut some people don'tThey get what they want so easilyAnd experience no bumpsI knew I wouldn't get itI still know why I tried
While wishing upon a star
You stopped to think of who you are
A person who has school as the main equation
High School always been a cham
Now it's coming to an end
College is coming what's done? What's planned?
You got to get your head out of the sand.
Go out an apply see what you can do
The yearning of comfort leaves me empty and alone; thirsting emotion and unique love.
As does waiting for that first intimate moment shared in a kiss; the simple, yet monumental knighting of womanhood in America.
Scribble. Scribble. Line.
Loop the "L", rewrite. Make it neater.
More Scribble. Pause.
Reread. Does it work?
Does the emotion work?
Does it clearly represent the charachter?
There's so much to be done
To this planet of ours
The pain and the hurt
Suffering as hot as Mars
The beauty that surrounds us
Now covered in gunk
Slimed over by humanity
I am not an artist.
I am not an athlete.
I don’t have a way with words.
To some I am a literary architect.
To others a tortured soul.
But to those few who know me,
a regular teenager.
In the darkness you will find my heart,
or what is left after i fall apart.
it's only natural to fall off the edge once more
it's happened everytime before.
In the daylight you find my soul
I never thought having your own opinions about life could be thought of by others as a bad thing. That was until athiest, vegetarian, and gay marriage supporter became very important defining factors that describe me, and the way I feel a
Is it too much for me to ask of you?
Do you even understand?
Why do you keep doing this?
Can you just listen to me? For once?
It's getting harder and harder,
to even try.
Blue skies after a storm blows away; blue eyes trying to keep the tears at bay.
You’re all on your own, a burden to those around you.
They push you down, and you can never pull yourself back up.
The late night
half lit incandescent bulbs
when sleep is synonymous
with the detestable scum
scraped off the shoe
laying on the floor
mate under the bed
The smell of dust and cotton
I yell to the stars but only the clouds hear me
I stomp my feet but the ants dont fear me
I cry but no tears fall
I reach out for help but noones there
Crying out help but the people just stare
Money doesn't grow on trees.
On the people I know
The people I see.
Do you have a degree?
Does that matter?
Connections lead to success.
Does that mean to be a kiss ass?
Everyone watches but
no one sees.
what is happening to me?
Something sits on my chest but
I see nothing there.
Why can't I breath?
It comes from nowhere.
The shadow grows in my eyes.
When I was younger
And the stars seemed far away
I used to revel in the gold encrusted words
Of my parents
I used to hang from their vowels
And dangle from their consonants
J. O. B.
Is it work or is it something free?
Is it something I do or something i can be?
The Job that will change my life is something free.
When i mean free I dont mean pricewise
I’ve realized something about myself,
I’ve realized fear……
I swim because I’m afraid to drown,
Climb the tallest mountains because I’m afraid of the height,
Skydive because I’m afraid of the fall,
According to the world wide web science is defined as the study of the natural world based on facts learned through experiments and observations.
I have walked 17 miles as of now
Pretty soon I will reach 18 miles
Along my walk, I have met lots of people
Learned valuable knowledge
Seen many wonders
Where I walked was guided by my elders
Driving down a road
Scanning every detail.
Maybe we'll spot a toad
or even something with a tail.
We'll hike through the forest
or find ourselves in the Amazon.
Unable to rest,
I feel as though nothing I do will ever be good enough.
That I will always live in the shadow of what has already been done.
I just can't be who they want me to be,
This is it,
What I have been preparing for,
The dream I held onto when thoughts of being an astronaut or a princess were lost somewhere in a seven year olds mind.
I have been working for this my entire life,
My dearest poet, do not study for hours another's poetryfor you will hinder your wordsRich painter, do not gaze in a fellow's perspectivefor you will stifle your perception
Once upon a dream
She lived Lavishly,
Where happiness felt clean
To the soul of purity
Invited all in unity
They laughed endlessly
Enjoying the offering of peace
In eternal divinity
Wish we could go back to the good ole days
Layin' back thinkin' how to make you smile in the best ways
But you can't get pass the pain I put you through
If only you could see I changed and believe its true
The sight of letters on a page,
makes me cringe and want to escape.
Even though we are often told,
that writing comes from the soul.
Everyday I a clumsily wake up and see, what a great and wonderful world exists around me.
She sits on rooftops, like a bat in the trees
Patient for them to close their eyes
So she can take all that they have
Only watched by the pale moonlight
No remorse is felt
Young and rebellious, with a heart of gold, and a mind of curiosity,
Experimenting at every corner, always trying new things, so adventurous,
After that one time, that first time,
Everything changed…forever.
Forbidden crystals
And possibilities within
Soaring through the questions
Revealing secrets to wanderers
Unknown colors and shapes
Where paradise awaits
Adventures unfolding
My first appointment of the day
Is little boy Tommy who is always scared.
All I want to do is help educate him.
Hopefully he comes in prepared.
She is going to think I'm lazy
What is life if its not what you do?
Jobs here, jobs there
just stacking up like entires of a resume, but
none defines me
but what if?
instead of saying:
"I work at.."
I say "I am"
In the hallways of my school,
some girls think they're cool,
while the guys only drool.
They cough
and they scoff,
but I want them to back off.
I hide my feelings
If there's one thing in this world
that can bring true happiness
it would be showing
and telling
and helping others
toward true greatness.
To educate and build
My life would change in a flash
Simple as someone turning on a monitor
Then the CPU
Waiting for it to boot up
Going into the archives
Then, finally
Adding a new profile
As a child we grow up knowing exactly what we want to be when we actully grow up
A fire fighter is what I wanted to be
The red lights and water is what excited me
But the tragedy of 9/11 also frighten me
A color
Changes the whole game.
An accident
Causes a beautiful "new world order".
I am not complaning, but I live life in struggle
Every corner that I turn, missing pieces to my puzzle
Since bullying exist, l've lived life in a bubble.
I wasnt affiliated with it, I never really got in trouble.
I need a job that could change whole life
And maybe then will shit start going right
I wouldn't have to be worried about my moms
Or my sisters and brothers crying about the lights going off
The water and the cable
Tangle me in the bleeding, throbbing, messy knot of emotion
Command me to help, to aide, to care
And you will see a machine unable to process a garbled voice command
The Mind barking orders to the comatose heart
There's a road in the meadow
parting it left and right
a side where the sun rises
and the other for the moon at night
and now I have to choose
the side I belong to
I've seen the pain of a thousand lies tearing through your soul
I've seen the bruises of anger beaten down upon your pliable flesh
Furious fists flying, pushing, swinging, never ending, never stopping
Thunderous applauseA steady, continuous chanting of my nameThat's what I live forThis is what I want
My memory is flimsy, weak to the remembrance
but…
Never forgotten are the sentiments that cause my heart to cry
Savory veracity
Appeal to my palette
"How are we feeling today?"
"How much have you eaten?"
"Let's check your weight."
"Have you ever hurt yourself?"
"Are you hearing things?"
"Are you seeing things?"
An interrogation
Brian Guex
Greater purpose then myself
One job to change mine and others life
To preach to the adults of tomorrow greater meaning
Something that does not require a knife
I wanna act like you're gonna understand what I'm trying to say and relate
But truth is empathy seems to be dying, wasting, and endangered
We're all facing different demons
No one to go to
My name is Aubree,
I love the wide open sea.
Dream job in the Mob,
Naw, I’m too lazy.
I wana be a dancer.
Type that fight cancer?
Grammy died of it
Growing up with a cough,
I seep into a world near the pain of death.
Now I have grown to happily be with others, though,
With this timeless scar, I shall bring to a standpoint the climax of human prosperity.
When I was supposed to be young and carefree,
my friends fell in love too many times
and fell asleep to nursery rhymes.
But not me.
I grew up fast and realized that life isn’t what it’s cracked up to be.
The natural foliage creeping down the counter,
Draping over the polished tanned walls.
Reflecting ergonomic finesse,
Cleanly tracing the muscular lining,
Of a fresh carcass.
The screaming and crying.
The tears and fears.
The cold hospital hallways seem so long.
Children sticking close to whom they belong.
"Its ok" I will tell them,
Mahmoud
A true story
My mother and I stood in the Afghan refugee camp
Solemnly and nervous, I stared as they stared back
"This is where I came from," she said to me
Question,
helps me see the problems that lie ahead,
research,
shows me the information on what is to come,
hypothesis,
gives me hope for what there may be,
experiment,
We all have a goal in life,
Become a ballerina, baseball player, or be in the circus.
My dream is to become a National Geographic photographer.
I want to touch the soul, with words that sounds like gold.
I want to hold the world's feelings in the words of my notes.
I want to behold the power to have my written word uncontrolled.
Doors on either side,
Endless forward and backward.
I need to decide
which door to go toward.
I know what I desire,
But what door it's behind is a gamble.
Knowing which one is impossible,
Michelle Guex
My One Dream Job
The lights shine down on me
I might not be as famous as Whoopi
I've got six sources of dreaming, clear
The words all tumble bright, and fear
Is choking cloaking, smogging roping
Round my throat and twixt my ears.
What am I doing here?
I'm learning phonetics,
1.
While watching a documentary in class I heard the term American-Japanese war
in an interview over B-roll of the bombing of Hiroshima
Some said to pick a job
One that made lots of money
Others said to follow your dreams
Even if it won't make millions
I wanted it all, I did
A nice house and car,
A husband, a family
Close eyes, see your dreams
Close mind, feel our beams
Hover night, why it is so long
One shake, one shiver
The night, will be cold
Inisght, none will be seen
Tickle Tickle Tickle
Walking down the street I see them
Picking up the trash off the street
Without them I wouldn't have somewhere to walk
Without them, my life would change
Walking into school I see them
The type of job which would change my life is becoming a famous author.
The way becoming a famous singer would change my life is everything I did the public would know about.
I wouldn't really have a free moment to myself.
“You can be anything you want to be—a doctor or a lawyer.”My father was a math man, a mad man; definitely not a family man.I was a dreamer, an idealist; a girl tormented with wanderlust and impatience.
One job may change a life
So, shoot for the stars
What do you have to miss out on?
You'll never know what could be
Until you decide what it will be
When I was young I wanted to become a chef
but that thought changed ever since i knew death
I realized I wanted to help people so I aimed to become a nurse
knowing that I would have to study everyday like a curse
All my life, it's been
You point the way, I'll get us there.
I'll struggle through,
and reach the goal.
I can overcome any obstacle,
but don't know where to start.
Today, I take the wheel.
ONE JOB. . .
One hope,
One ambition.
Is what we are made to choose,
during our high school days.
Before we are 18,
and can legally smoke.
Before we are 21,
I am a flower in the desert, holding out for the rain.
The sun has been hot and taunting, mocking my goals and my name.
This war
Is about blood, tears, and death
This war
Sees a little child heave a last breath
But there are no guns, no bombs
No battlefields that we can see
For the war rages forever on
Every day
From seven o' clock to three o' clock
Was hell without exception
I dreaded those long hours that seemed to stop time
Watching the hands move in slow motion
Because I felt it was without purpose
13 years in a public prison,
4 years of undergrad studies,
4 more years of medical school;
Countless hours studying,
Procrastinating,
Working;
Countless dollars towards fees-
One Journey, one road, one story?
No.
Exploring, doing more, and expressing my inner joy is my future job.
They say that hatred is a fireThat eats at your insidesAnd it isAlong with jealousy and ambitionAt times it seems I carry all of theseBut I've learned to push down my angerTo be content with what I have
The job of a poet
Is what I seek
But it doesn’t feel possible
Hoping for just a peek
A glimpse of what this job entails
As I stumble back and forth
Back and forth
We attempt to push and pull
In these days we all have a dream
Sleeping, working, or eating ice cream
Even I have one, and that's a job
Most people would doubt my wish
But nonetheless I will accomplish
Those gifted hands,
Bathing in antimicrobial soap and water,
Clothed in radiant latex sterile surgical gloves.
Wow how crazy ..I am at this place again of choosing ..seems pretty difficult ..theres so many choices out there...what's the best?...well in my eyes ...to complete a job is to help others and what better way to do this....then share life...you s
To change the world
That's what I'll do
One letter at a time
One word
One stanza
One very long novel
One writing at a time
To change the world
That's what I'll do
To change someone's life
There a million ways it can be done
But I think of mainly one
To be a therapist
I would heal the soul
And I would receive constant self-achievement from this goal
I searched long and hard,
Looking for a job that could help me on my way,
The one that accepted me was long and hard,
It made me want to look for another and possibly take it easy,
I entertain the thought of future and sit for what seems days in meditation
Over what I could achieve, mind occupied with occupations,
And tend not to dwell on the confinement of dreams strictly to my dreams,
The piano sits in the living room
begging me to play an endless tune.
But my mind inside me booms
saying "why doubt so soon?
Music isn't that great,
remember Math is what pays,
There's no money in music, I know,
that's a dead end career.
I can see you as a wonderful biomedical engineer, dear,
from every mother and teacher and father and neighbor.
Stop making all that noise, they say,
To be an Opera Dramaturge
Opera
Not to sing but to hear
To breath and surrender
To understand
To be confused
Dramaturge
Not to act but to read
The libretto
Imagine how the world could be
Something or someone can make a change
A positive force leads to a possibility
Smiles are the reaction
The Job for me would to help others
The path to success is paved with commitment and desire,
What is a teacher? Someone who can change the world. Not to become a preacher, but to alow those bound to break the mold. Confusion is ripe in society. Education can wipe the messy window clean.
"All the World's a Stage,"
And we're just actors, right?
But it takes more than actors
To bring a show to life.
I was a little starlet
Born to sing and dance;
Born to thrill the audience
The world is full of peculiar things.
Sights which only the utmost curiousity can bring.
Beauty all around us seems so sing,
Be who you are and you will see.
Do what you want, because what you want to be
I used to dream
about working in the theatre
drowning in the adrenaline rush
from performing,
from making people happy.
But I learned
that is not for me.
I still need, though,
Vivid lights beam down from a ceiling housing thousands of cheering fans.
Cheekbones corrupted with smiles give way, some hidden by active hands.
A beating heart within, so eager to emerge from the cage that condemns it so
The ability to touch
the sky
Fly with the birds
the angels
A dream of all
the flight
To fly one must innovate
improve
Try
Try
Try
Until at last
takeoff is achieved
I dreamed of being a super hero
To have my name in the headlines every day
Reality crushed my dreams when I was just seven
I had to accept that I was never going to wake up with super powers
I live my life
And I dream
And I hope
And I whisper my secrets to the sky
Because nobody is there to listen
And when I'm alone I wait
And I hope to God
That someday I will not be
Why a doctor?
Why not a contractor?
Why not a sports caster?
Why not a rocker?
Because...
I don't really know.
I like to learn about so many things, about animals with feet, fins, or wings.
Change
Change yourself,
Change your environment,
Change your world.
Change the world.
Man,
We are all one.
All the same,
equal
Every one of us
Softball; I sprain my ankle.
Sit out for the rest of the season.
I was depressed and hopeless.
However, being injured caused me to go to physical therepy.
There I encountered my dream job.
Oh darling how beautiful you looked
with your eyes of burning lights and elusive hope.
With your slight beckoning
the hearts of men poured to do your bidding
and you bind them with chains of industry
Pacing around in delicate circles, tracing the words that encompass the fire
The inextinguishable flame that ignites the one desire driving me mad
A beautiful and unforgivable dream
Through the eyes of a dreamer
Nothing can stand in my way
Soaring high over mountains and oceans
My own little airplane cradling me in the sky
If only I weren’t afraid of heights
"Does the wind still rise?"
stories told won't be forgotten
kids running and the sun setting
tell me these don't mean something
can i tell you a story
that you will clutch and carry and
never let go
Black ink flows on a page
transcribing ideas, thoughts; so very lovely.
The poet sits, his hands clenched in rage
for he has forgotten his own story.
Early in life I've learned
Life has never been about what changes my life
It is what changes others' lives.
That one job that would change my life?
It would be to see that spark--
I sat on the floor just gasping for air
It seemed there was none to be found
The pain was intense but I didn't care
I stayed in a ball on the ground
Next thing I knew it was hospital gowns
This is how my story could read, If I could help victoms families in need.
Becoming a medical examiner would be a hardship and put me in debt,
But there is no challenge that I have not met.
I take a seat behind my desk
what do people see?
this job is not an easy task
but it means so much to me
they tell me psychiatrists are crazy
they only seek to find themselves
What is it to hope, to dream, to wish
In a place where nothing works,
To want to try to fix
A hole with little corks.
That, I think is the problem,
A glass that is full of holes
A child weeps, but from what direction?
The little boy with the clammy hands wipes his nose
On the shoulder of his mother’s satin blouse.
They wait to be called in.
Truly, just as a child weeps
To speak is a gift, that not all recieve
My voice is a tool, to help those in need
Inside they are speaking, please set them free
The voices they need, reside in me
In their eyes there are words
Hello world,
Have we met yet?
No?
Are you sure?
I could have sworn I was that veterinarian from that one time
As I wash the dishes
I have many wishes
Ever Since I started working here
My thoughts have started to veer
People walk in and out
Some are loud and shout
They leave their dishes on the table
My life has been changed, and now it is up to me to choose a job to change a person’s too.
I dream of social work, counseling, and motivational speaking.
In the jobs I desire all will be complete if I save one life like she.
I was pushed in school
To decide my fate
I was pushed by my parents
To get the best grades
I was pushed by society
To live up to everyone's expectations
And yet I stay sane
One Job
One simple task
Taking what you learn
Giving it back to others
Fire spreads and shares its light
Everyone carries a torch, lit or unlit
I'm a Math Geek, sure.
I've got charisma, too much!
Combine them, It's me!
I'm weak in the flesh.Though my spirit is so willing Jesus!Sanctify me, this total depravity.
Deep within each human
There is a drive, a need
Different fires burn for every man
All expressed within a seed
A seed that grows with every season
Career oriented
Push me into typicality
Told myths of the straight and narrow path
Lined on either side by treacherous cliff side
Jagged with lost hope and drug addiction,
Probably.
Pediatric oncology might be the job,
That will show me what it is like to make a difference,
Maybe not to the world, but to a few children,
Who because of fate ended up in a bad state.
Life is like a burning candle
soon we will burn away
slowly but surely
we are not here to stay
we were made to be a light and warmth
but not to last forever
just because we a fading
Oh my goodness this gun weighs a ton
Too much weight gave me a strain;
I wonder why I have this gun
At last, we have the enemy on the run
Frighting for you
Fighting for my loved ones
Fighting to keep the sky blue
Fighting for those late night runs
Fighting for those happy days
Fighting for the you to live
I want to work in hospitals, universities, industries, and laboratories.
A blend of engineering, biology, and medicine,
I’ll have many possibilities and through all of my duties
Mom and Dad want me to evaluate the broken,
To diagnose them with the disease we all have- surreal survival,
Sitting here 2 years after
I still feel empty without your laughter,
We werent ready, we were just kids,
But if i could go back, id want you to live
You deserved life, and all that this world has in store
One Job May Change My Life
Fighting for the justice of innocent civilians
Becoming someones "hero"
Beyond a dream
on a stage
it isn't about me
it isn't about fans, fame, fortune or other words thrown around by those who have too much and give nothing
I stare at my wrists
Blood dripping red
Trying to drive
the demons from my head
Do I jump
Do I stand
On edge waiting
With a blade in my hand
I want to live
I stare at my wrists
Blood dripping red
Trying to drive
the demons from my head
Do I jump
Do I stand
On edge waiting
With a blade in my hand
I want to live
With just a little change, our society could thrive
if we used our full potential, possibilites reach the sky
the potential we all have, but seem to throw away
could be the difference in, living a different way
Dreams will be dreams no matter what people seem to say.
We all live everyday by the dreams we continue to replay.
Why instead of dream don't we make these actions come true?
What would I change?
I would change the world.
I would give everyone a pair of socks
Because nobody needs to get cold feet.
I would make everyone a blanket fort
To keep warm their hearts.
So much time has past since freshmen year,
We've found ourselves and who we are,
Maybe we can leave this place with some cheer,
But we will leave with much, much fear.
Things always change left and right,
If I were Almighty,
A Universal Clockmaker,
A Divine Puppet Master,
Pulling the stings of the world behind the scenes,
Trotting daringly through the meadows of flowers
I feel the pulse beneath my feet
Frolicking with the whisp of the wind
I hear it stirring
Bringing me closer and closer until suddenly
I kneel
i admire the crayons
for no matter how you push
or how hard the pressure
they'll pick themselves up
and cling to their other
i admire the crayons
for when in times of stress
they melt together
Twelve
Dear Mr. and Mrs. Anonymous,
Who knew you could ever live in a world so perfect.
I mean cruel.
This is their place,
the place they freely roam;
This is their place,
the place they call, “Home”.
It is said that repeating the same task over and expecting different results is the definiton of crazy. But if one repeats the same task over from preschool to college expecting success, would they define us as crazy too?
She grabs a magazine and looks inside
All these "perfect women" fill the contents
A false reality seen with her eyes
Comparing herself to literal nonsense
The flawless faces photoshopped to perfection
Never does the swinging stop
Always back and forth
Left to right
I’m treading for my life now,
Believe me.
She works harder than ten men combine
Working night and day till her knees break and hands swell
Living in a cardboard box with only the clothes on her back
As I aged
It faded fast
Although I wished
It would last
One foot forward
One foot back
Now memories are
Of the past
Piano, Forte
Fast, Slow
What I did was stop
Instead of go
He wakes up and rolls over
Sees the love of his life
And he loves him just the same
As a husband loves his wife.
Been together for ten years
Yet no ring on his finger
Because America the Brave
You’re put into groups of those who are supposed
To shut up and keep their heads down.
You’re asked to “speak up” when spoken to
And when you do without asking
They tell you to “quiet down”
The smoke lighting up the distance
Danced from the corner of the room
Soft, warm, deathly.
In this moment the harsh darkness
Does not matter.
Sinking into the seat as the light
Caresses the shadow.
As one piece of iron sharpens another, we need to keep each other sharp. We need to encourage each other. An enemy might be able to defeat one of us, but not when the two of us stand back-to-back to defend each other.
It’s when autumn
in its final throes
surrenders
and one morning
you draw in
a peculiar breath
thick with frigid air
that you realize
the winter’s made
its presence.
I sit motionlessly, watching the bright rays of light dim over the horizon. I can hear the soothing sound of the waves striking the rocks, and the wet footprints running across the sand.
Can you hear me?
I'm Singing
I'm Shouting
I'm Whispering
Can you see me?
I'm Standing
I'm Spinning
I'm Hiding
Can you feel me?
I'm Far
The only place where its not normal to be normal. humanity, humans, homo sapiens; we are so amazingly peculiar, different, the same. We are truly Simplicity at its finest; Long dense answers to a question that has never been asked. I exist?
She gave me colours of the rainbow
Yellow, Red, Pink
Blue, Black, Purple
All hidden so no eye can see
She gave me words of the wise
Honour, Pride, Discipline
Shame, Punishment, Pain
They say write to my hearts consent, or to my thoughts represent, a image or a goal, or till I host a flag on a pole, by which am I writing because it is written, or am I writing because I am different, I see myself as my world but I'm on one, an
all alone
in the midde of the ocean
the moon pulls upon the sea
without a choice
the tide rises...
but alas, the moon is a million miles away
i cant hold you in my arms
so i turn my face
Though you may not think of me as your family, I will always think of you as mine. Though you may never think of me as your loving little sister, I will always think of you as my older sister.
From Genesis to Revelation
He’s held me at high elevation.
From listening to the Word and going to church
I’ve read my Bible and did my research.
God is my strength to him I belong.
He will never leave me nor forsake me,
Therefore I will never be alone.
He will always be there, just call on his name
The ruler of universal pain and pleasure, you are
I whimper with dread because you'd never understand
I fear mediocrity of this poem
But it must be said, in order for me to do
But life exists without you
A masterpiece was promised,
A carving out of words,
To stand, eloquent, elegant
Child of talent, effort, ripped-up sheets,
The first of many,
Essay-sculpture,
And I, Author-carver.
So I have a secret
Every time you open your mouth
And you twist a boring book into a dreamy drama
Or a magical memoir
Or a fascinating piece of fiction
I feel a radiant romance form.
Glaring
Teeth clenching
Anger simmering
I snap
I scream
I cannot hear myself think
Am I really that loud?
Well the first thing we do isn’t expose our feelings to our teachersI had this bottled up for some timeSo I was so excited about coming to collegeThe 2 months period of anticipation took all my previous knowledge
African Americans are ignorantAsians are brilliantWhites are smartThose are all stereotypes that you are led to believe to keep you from what you are trying to achieve or succeed atI am African American
Why the fuck are you so loud?Why the fuck are you so loud?!!Its 8 in the fucking morningYou’re boring and you're loudNow what the fuck are you talking aboutI sat over here with an attitude long enough
The way you speak to us you see,
It’s just not how it should be,
You get to raise and scream at us,
Then you get surprised when we get up and cuss?
Now don't get me wrong with the lesson i'm about to teach
Education is good,
Education is the water to our seed
but whats wrong is the times between you and i being "educated"
the pain that stings so deep
I used to look down a lot
My head full of melancholic thoughts
And myself so weighed down
I could not stand up.
In fact I was falling,
deeper and deeper into a depression
You were built for great things
You were built for the future
But these halls move like molasses
And these faces look like ghosts
And my mind falters
And I bend
And I break
Free
Free country, they say.
But really?
To conform
To think the same
To act the same
Based on a "correct system"...
But really?
Where's the freedom
To be an individual?
i wanna be free, like in the books that i read, let my words mean more tha
The school bell rings, I'm late for class
at this rate, I'll never pass.
College essays, school ones too,
every day, a new one's due.
What will I do? I do not know.
A real good college, I must go.
Going through the motions, never to know
Time is passing in an endless loop
The pattern is broken only by the last stroke
The time has come, the last bell rung
A lugubrious gathering, the show of an end
Write they tell us,
Show us who you are.
Give us your soul in a story they say
I’ll grade it and judge all your scars.
Thousands of students with their
I am sorry. I am so sorry.
The smiling child you once knew is no more.
Star light eyes( eyes that light the future)have been extinguished.
Round and colorful, they play with me
I blow them little, big, they are funny
They dance in a big open space
Some like to pop in my face
Until all that's left are three
Freedom comes with each word that pours out of the speakers
Every step I take and move I make
Grace is wrapped around my arms and legs
While my mind is at rest and my body performs.
I had a friend, whose name was Sam
Sam was always smiling
He went driving one day, and then BAM!
The car was flying, flipping, and rolling
Sam had received a text on his phone
You say we can come to you when needed
We need you to listen when you’re called
But you won’t be there when we’re crying
You’re not there for us at all.
My heart made me loose it all.
They said they loved me,
But it was all a lie.
They told me to follow my heart,
Que Arte!
Bright colors fly
Men and women sing
Twirling and spinning
Has always been my thing.
It began when I was five
I watched my mother prance
And began to ponder deeply,
#YOWO
And I loved a girl
with pain etched into her lips
and death written along her soul.
Art poured from her fingertips
and poetry was carved into
I’ve known I was a boy since I was three years old
It’s not only something I know
It’s something I feel deep into the crevasses of my soul
Most people don’t think twice of it
The hearts of youth are unlike others
They are in existence for a time in which they chose,
And incomparable to the time in which our old age is recognized.
We feel as though youth is a treasure which is stolen easily,
I hop into a world,
Colors and images dart by as I race
Through page by page.
Words that ebb and flow,
Pulling and pushing me in
A midnight rolling tide.
A simple book,
Dear Elementary School teachers,
It has been years since we have spoken
Since you let me slip away into the system
Forgot me, and my talents
Ignored what I couldn’t do.
Well I am no longer that kid,
Baby sister!
Who I love you,
and inevitably abore.
You give me the strength,
to go out and explore,
To face challenges that are harder for the adverage man,
So here we go,
Heres the plan,
The classroom is my dungeon
Cold, stark, and bleak.
The desk is my cage
Restraining my mind’s reach.
I’m drawn away from creativity
Herded by the group
Who are too slow to move on
What do you want from me?
Am I not good enough?
Am I a dissapointment?
A mess that needs to be cleaned up?
You'd never guess how far you'd go
To gain a freedom you've never known.
All it takes is that right preson, the right way
To help you get through another day.
Don't let them tell you that there's no truth
I saw a little girl sitting on a bench
Crying because she was hurt.
No visible scars but on the inside
She felt like she had no worth.
She felt she was different, bore an ugly visage
War.War within myself,War surrounds me.Inside I'm freedom,but self-made bonds are magnetizing me.
Today I look back on what my life once was. The pain and heart break I endeavored.
I am NOT stupid.
If you hand me a song! I can submerge myself within the lyrics and become one with the melody.
BUT
I have to create a thesis statement.
I'm trying to understand. My mind is blank.
Cold.
There was constant sobbing
That could not be held in any longer
They sat on their bed looking at their body
They knew that they were not worth the effort
They didn't want to belong on this planet
Every sparrow gets the chance to singA lively song, befitting each new voiceSo may the happy birdwatchers rejoiceFor every little sparrow loves the spring
Every sparrow gets the chance to singA lively song, befitting each new voiceSo may the happy birdwatchers rejoiceFor every little sparrow loves the spring
Love is Strong
Love is Powerful
Love is Free
Yet is it judged
Not being able to love whom we want for who we are
But at the end Love will always concure those who judges
Dear Mr…
Why is it that every time you speak I listen but I don’t understand?
Is it because our class period is the first, very early in the morning?
young talented artist
you drew with a kind of passion
a kind of originality &
beauty that no one ever had
you took me in to your world
without even speaking
just drawing
Knowledge is
Knowledge is a mosic
Colorful and broken
Pieced together slowy
Knowledge is everything
And nothing at all
Comment me like a facebook post
Label me like a hashtag
Post me up like an innstagram Pic
You do not see the
Pain
Struggle
Or ME
Its funny
Its sad
It hurts
High school is full of motions and emotions.
Television is missing the actual high school promotion.
Waving at someone then shaking your head when they leave.
I'm killing myself,
I know.
Each time the knife hits my skin.
The teachers don't care,
The students just stare.
The nurse just told me to pray.
They send me away,
To not deal with my shit,
One cannot fathom the absence of thought.
Ambition & glory in cardboard hue,
All that you’ve done has been done for naught.
Paint twined elegant by stroke & by blot—
To the teacher who supervised study:
Remember the girl who was my best friend,
The girl who sits in front of me…
She called me Bitch in front of everybody today
I get up at six in the morning,
to hear you go on and on,
about shit that makes me start snoring.
When the whole class fails a test
you blame us,
because teacher knows best.
She talks to me
Talks to us
Like we're brats
She walks in with an air of snobiness
and speak with thinly veiled vanity
The first time we met
The first time she met us
You made who I am today and for that I hate you
You made me see what others couldn’t dream
You made me think I was nothing
You made me sell coke every night
You can tell she has a heart of gold.
Outside it appears to be the opposite.
She refuses to rise above the struggle.
She refuses to take help from anyone.
It hurts me to see her stay stagnant,
I am ambitious
curious and passionate
I want to keep learning
anew
The teachers are unhopeful
schoolwork is hectic
Already prepared
for what each school year brings
Choking on words
In a rather fantastic way.
My tongue holds them back
As my throat tries to gurgle them out
While my head spins the words around.
Repeatedly,
Incessantly,
But to speak ones fears
I came to school to learn about life,
Instead you give me a worksheet,
And get your easy paycheck.
Hit the road
hard and fast
all i wanna do is drive fast
you know me well
you think ill fail
and come running back to you
you want to see me fail , to be there to tell me you were right and i was wrong
Life is like the music that takes you away
Your body moves at the sound of a drum
The steps that you take leads the way
Every leap and twirl that's where the determation lay
Since when does my sexuality effect
Your well being,
Your family,
Your life.
Since when does anyone's sexuality effect
Your well being,
Your family,
Your life.
It's a matter of fact
Lost hand, reaching into the darkness
But left to drown in loneliness.
Searching for another to latch on to,
Hoping and praying for someone to come through.
They walk past in disgust
I dont know how to write a check,
But thankfully I can graph a palabara.
I dont know how to cook a family meal,
But I know how many protons an Iron atom has.
I can't decide which price is better,
The fields of war, we all cry,
Let’s take a moment and take a big sigh.
This isn’t what life should be!
Let’s just get along, you and me.
Let’s have the peace fly!
War is nothing but a sad, sad lie,
You strut in front of class.
You , a bloated peacock
Ranting, raving, screaming, yelling.
You make your own rules , by which we must obide
My dearest teacher, your class is so boring
Even my foot is now snoring
Obviously you dont how to have fun
Sitting in our desk all day, come on we're still young
When im in your class im always tired
The strokes of life burn within my paper
Seeping through the lines
Creating a sunder for the reaper
Those creases in your brow
She'd love to say she's confident but she's not.
"Hey you're smart!"
She doesn't get that alot.
She wants to say she's powerful, but she wont.
She thinks she's beautiful, but no one else thinks so.
Catholic High. Yes, Catholic High.
That our school. Yes, you and I.
We stand for religion and christianity.
But instead, to seems like a mockery.
Our reputation is so bad and low,
Hero
Wearing dog tags
Bravely fighting
Protecting the red white and blue
Soldier
A bad teacher is negatively pessimisticA good teacher is positively optimistic
A bad teacher swears all the timeA good teacher cares in their prime
?Why
Why is it so hard to understand?
This isn’t the easiest subject for all of us.
When someone comes to you for help,
I’m not falling behind,
I’m starting behind.
My mommy and daddy are not like theirs.
No bedtime stories
with silly questions
“What color is the ball?”
“What did the dog say?”
walk through halls
but utter silence inside
my mind
a blur of noise
outside
'everyone will find a place'
'high school is a better place'
but I miss the days of being free
I put my head on my hands, you yell stay awake,
I haven't slept in three whole days, it's harder than you think.
I try to focus, I try real hard,
But there's more to me than you can see, this is harder than you think.
Water attracted to water, becoming more and more itself until the sky herself cannot hold the forces away. The culmination of these events can lead us to a rather beautiful metaphor. For the self is attracted to the self.
Man school's a drag
Let's all go take nap,
Pick up those pencils and pens
It's time to go learn in my class.
Teachers expect to much of us kids
We just want to hangout and shoot the shit,
Teachers
Why don’t you stop lecturing
And listen for a change
Maybe pay attention to the kids in the back row
Who might have some scars to show
And goes home to cut and feel low
I've sat in class.
I've sat there and wondered.
Wondered if you even cared.
Cared for what you are molding.
Molding these students, these numbers.
Numbers that identify us from one another.
Hey Teacher,
I really hate this class,
and this seat hurts my ass.
It really isn't misleading,
You know no one did the summer reading.
Why did you pick our partners?
I wish you gave me someone smarter.
We are always learning, improving, developing
Evolving into something greater than we were
Becoming something better than the world has ever seen
Education is the means by which this takes place
Struggling to be unique,
Then in return I get critiqued,
Thinking outside the box.
But limited as the clock ticktocks.
Trying to discover a better way,
But your emotion is truly grey.
if i could have a starry night, i would.
if i could have a chance to breath the misty air, i would.
if i could dance along the darken path, i would.
the stars are my light and the fireflies are my guide.
Condescending eyes shallowed by the slow hands stabbing at dragging hours
stare intently at the dark scratches upon a once pure surface.
They tire not of passing judgement upon those "lesser" to them,
Teacher how come you don't push all students there's only a few you do? Teacher how come your eyes are only on the students in the front, but not on the students in the back?
Yeah, I appreciate what you do.
Thank you for spending a little extra time
looking over my essay with me after school.
I know its a long ride home for you
and I know you don't get paid for the overtime.
She is lost..
Lost among the days of old, banned from the days of new..
Like a wanderer in a maze..
Stuck in this room like it's a jail.Trapped like prisoners
My hands are tied grasping the rail.
We aren't petitioners.
"Sometimes I always ask myself why.Was it after all worth it?
Frustration, exasperation,
Total damnation
Why can’t I seem to be of any use?
I'm trapped inside my own walls
Unknown to all, I continue to fall
In my own pit of despair
This just isn’t fair
A warming smile, an enchanting laugh. A crumbling sensation within the realms of my soul. He was the stars that lit up my body, yet the un-denying darkness that consumed my heart.
Futile attempts being made ignoring all warnings that have been said, this poor human starts his race, haunted by the shadow'd face.
I close my eyes, and understand,
The only way a child can,
To be beaten down with soap, and socks,
I beg forgiveness, the paradox.
All they do is teach us what they think we need to know
They never get the chance to know us
We all have our stories of where we've been and where we are going
Drug addicts
Soon to be parents
Couples fighting
English 101 and Me
By Sarah DeWeese
A poem you ask, about me?
For English 101 you see.
Well --- I am quiet, I am shy, kind, but sure.
Backpack slung over
arms reaching for a water bottle
sun rays approaching
you could see the glimpse of light
it was about to begin
With more change
I have more pocket money
I purchase a flying rug
Race a plane
To Bordeaux
With my change
I buy some wine
And race through time
300 years
Wade Waking up to the alarm sound of cries from mothers,Putting on tattered clothes worn from dead brothers,Open up my phone, and hoping to get a text from one of my many lovers.Better get ready to go, before dad gets up with his morning bottle,
"They gonna drive me. They drivin all our people
I'm an outlaw. Hell, ain't it clear?
Ma Don' worry, Don' worry me"
Ma said, "They might k-they might hurt ya. How'm I..?"
Time is relentless.
What used to feel infinite is now depleting,
There’s no room for a father’s affection or a mother’s caress.
Instead I’m left walking through busy streets alone,
https://becon223.eduvision.tv/ajax/../Default.aspx?q=X3Y5NcZVhaA3Zoir8l4yug%3D%3D
THAT'S ME ^
Money is right
Gymnastics is coaches
That are strict and precise.
Gymnastics is warm ups
That make you drip with sweat.
Gymnastics is ropes
The bones they scream in volumes that grow
I hear them begging to show
They want to press pass the barriers
They want me to learn “no”
It scares me as much as it thrills me
To take it all in and see
I've cherished all this time
Never told anyone I could achieve it
Until I saw a sign
Still know one has believed it
Chased it since I was young
Live it now since I'm old
Why do they judge her? And y'all just let it happen?
The heartache and the pain,
please remember when it pours its rains.
They don't the situation, she could have gotten rape.
She sits alone
In the dark
Trying to find the light
In the only thing she has ever known
In her hand she holds a knife
It’s her only escape from the world
Where she’s all alone
Innocent child
Please baby sister do not cryStay strong for meOne day you will gain your wings to flyNever think about saying goodbyeYour pain will soon dieAnd you will feel so alive
If you existed,
Would you look at me as a future image of you?
If I prayed,
I would drop to my knees and beg and plead for you to be shielded,
From the twister,
I was once told that “originality was dead,”
And for the longest time, I believed it so.
However, through conflicting opinions,
I realized that it was alive,
And only needed to be reinvented.
Teacher,
I am a writer,
I am a singer,
and that's all I care about.
I care not
about history,
or science,
or French.
I care only for English,
and chorus,
I’m not good enough
Comparing myself to others always
Look at the negative side
Thoughts run through my mind as I walked through the hallways
I’m not good enough
Everyone is smarter, more talented, and cool
shut them out, as I suffer to breathe
Where are the words?
Can we talk instead of scream?
My opinion remains unheard
The violent escapade
on the frigid ground, I laid
he charged at me,
Curled up shaking no where to hide,
cold steel and brass next to my side.
Headphones in but hearing the screams,
red stained dirt vivid in my dreams.
Not you but ME I shoud have died.
I dance because God made me to dance.
I dance because even though sometimes it’s the most painful and hardest thing I do,it can only make me stronger and more dependent on God.
I thought I heard your voice last sunday
the raspy tone I know all too well
I thought I saw your soul last sunday
running along where the spirits dwell
educate me, ignite the passion that burns in my soul educate me, i yearn to be made whole. there is a me waiting to become, me...i am to be someone. someone who has purpose. i am someone. educate me.
As the trials begin
the emotion within buld up as we abide
the consciousness within us
the summer days grows hot,
but the wrestling room is even hotter.
the inner confidence upgrades from steel
Undying feelings,
Never rested eyes,
All these feelings that fit in my life.
Academics, Home, Chores, Parents, Love, Divorce, and College,
A never ending stream.
Thoughts and feelings,
Opening the doors and sliding onto black leather seats.
Squinting as sunlight reflects off of the sunglasses hanging on your rearview mirror.
You are nine, and the sturdy surface of the leather seatKeeps you company while your brother is away. At rest stops he goesOff with Dad, off by himself, always off without you,
As I open the door feeling the crisp blackened air of the 123 and ABC’s as I sit in my prison chair
When I'm lonely, you're there to keep me company.
When I'm broken, you're there to fix me.
When I'm lost, you're there to find me.
It may not seem like much, but it means the world to me.
Forever thee flame could not be kindled
Our love was unlike other loves, easy
Wild tongues spread, unable to be swindled.
And happily, it was a fantasy
Today, sadly, like every fantasy
I have an F but I'm not stupid.
That online homework, I couldn't do it.
They all have laptops and phones with apps.
I have a job while my mom naps.
Impossible to learn at school.
THIS girl d e s p i s e s youand e v e r y t h i n g that you do.YOU are the t h i n g that keeps the sun from shining.
I trust you, teacher
I really do
But the words stick in
my throat
I want to tell you, teacher,
I really do.
But I don't know how
to say the words
How to tell you
I have lived a life of stress and hurt
I have been harassed and treated like dirt
I do have some friends, yes, I do
But I have a lot more enemies too
These are things you hadn't known
Am I wrong if I tell you I want to make love to your mind first ?
Before giving giving you back shots that sweat out your hair in make your spine hurt.
I want to make you mine first.
I want to put in the time first.
Listening to the music,
While tears stream down my face;
Is just another day.
I tell myself that tomorrow will be better?
But I know the truth.
Nothing will change.
Who was I kidding?
Life
A figment, A dream
Time that leaves unspoken
Moments that shine unknowing
Death
A fight, A truth
Time to leave heartbroken
Moments that harm unwilling
Time
A want, A fear
His arms tightly grasped
His eyes filled with love
His smile blooms
His heart races
He lowers his head
Their lips meet quickly
Just once
A boy rushes around the corner
Tall short
Fat skinny
Nice mean
Dumb brainy
Black white
Gay straight
So many adjective to describe oneself
As if we are categorizing something on a shelf
Make a mark in your name
no two fingerprints are the same
You dream your dream
I'll dream mine too
Don't let me falter what you want to do
Soak in life
Create your own voice
Live, laugh, love, have freedom
Walk, run, enjoy the sun
Be happy, be sad, be angry, go crazy
Cry, smile, hug each other
Sing together
Dream together
Feel each other’s pain together
There's a light in my heart
And I want it to be voiced
Just because I am different, does it mean I don't have a choice?
Of who I love and who I don't
Do I have to be straight to be normal?
Traveling over the high ways and the bi-ways of high school
has been a journey that I have wanted to end since it began
and tonight, when the moon’s light is the only glow that casts
Not even the Crayola Company can keep me in that box
Rose Art never stood a chance
Sandusky couldn’t capture my essence
Prang dulled faster than my curiosity of Dixon Ticonderoga
I am a work of art
is it more important that I can quote Hamlet…
…than it is to teach me how to have friends
is it more important that I can determine a derivative…
…than it is to learn that means don’t justify the ends
My Mother, my friend so dearThroughout my life you’ve always been near
I can count on you to guide my wayEven when I wake up grumpy to start the day
Start off with confidence
Beautifully misplaced
"This is
A college level class.
You will be challenged"
You lied.
I spend my time
Listing off the
Scientific names of animals
That I know.
I'm lost in these rivers of peace, Hope swelling and gushing through every pore within me, Love dragging me down in the currents. When His grace oh the unfailing grace sends me drifting up to the shore, And who awaits me there?
"When do you say
Who?"
When the person is the subject, the subject
choose the objectives the variables form the formula scrutinize evaluate analyze appearances
"When do you say
Who?"
Death is her wish
and life is her bliss.
There are cuts on her wrist
because she can't hide the pain.
The only trace
of words filled with hate
are those wounds on her skin.
It was the coward's way out, he knew. He could feel it rolling around in his gut like a stupidly cheerful puppy.
What tolerance do you speak of
I've asked more questions nevertheless
What lecture do you plan on
Iv'e only heard three words or less
That utter from your mouth
The rest are stories of your perfect days
Sleep at home, not at class they sayTime passes slow everydayWhy should I do my homework anyway If I sleep at home like they say
I am sitting in a chair. Firm is my derriere. That's French for your sit upon. I like to sit in the sun. With a warm face and a loaded gun.
It’s 1 am.
My mother walks up the stairs,
and asks me if I’m nearly there.
I say; “I finished my math,
but I still have so much to do”
She sighs.
So do I.
Times not on my side.
1,600 hours spent as a freshmen.I don't have much to say to you, time and time again.I'd like to ask a question, maybe, every now and then.But I'm a little nervous... I mean, I am just a freshmen.
Don't try and tell me who I am
I get enough of it by society
don't judge because "you know"
maybe we are the same size but not same shoes
don't assume we're all delenquents
some of us just want help
Shouldn’t it be a sign?
When the stress of seven hours makes kids want to get high?
When they would rather take the failure
Than stand up in class,
Because speaking a few words
What do you mean "what does this mean"?
So you give me a "B"
I change my style, I change my content
But my grade remains constant
I ask you a question on my essay
"Only you know the answer", you say
What's that there?
What's that here?
It was near, now it just disappear!
What did it do?
What did it went off to?
It sure flew, but I think it likes you!
It just past by.
You want to teach me Math, but you can't count
The minutes to be on time.
You want to teach me English, but you speak
in ghetto rhymes.
You want me to prepare for the future
Though you can't prepare yourself.
Yes! Yes! He accept my friend request
I could remember the joy that filled my soul
It was so much it leak like snat coming through my nose
my heart was like the prime minister on Election Day
Why?!!
You went to school to educate, but you fail to be educated about who you
were educating...
I stayed in class waiting
For you to see me but
you refused to listen to me...
I am Shapeless.
A Villian to an arching Hero.
I am a Pest. A Slug.
A Menace.
Forget MANKIND.
I am pushed. Punched,
tugged in all sorts of directions.
Do I have a mind of my own?
Again,
Everything is fantastic, euphoric even.People who've been there from the start surround you,Laughing, joking, smiling, even mum is bragging.“Yeah, I have the best daughters ever.”
From when were young,
To when were old,
We are always learning,
From teachers to parents,
From elders to others,
There once was a girlWho loved the whole worldBut most of all, school
Smiling face, her head held highThat's how she faked through her daysAs kids sang of her dying
The children, the children
Will anyone care
A little girl just wants somebody to care
So badly, so badly
They want to be loved
Who to call mommy
Who to call daddy
How are we, as students, expected to do much?How are we expected to enjoy school after we recognize the discomfort inside ourselves whist there?
tomorrow i will be sad again. did you know? tomorrow i will be fulled with sorrow because there is no more me and you. do you know? tomorrow i will cry and you will not know. tomorrow though that will be my last tear.
A winter night beneath the full moon is all that it takes
To strike the longing heart with the sharp sword of sorrow
Gasping weeps to the night carried by tears that keep me awake
Teacher, open your eyes!
You are feeding them all lies!
We are living in a society so enwrapped with gender,
I imagine myself becoming a bender.
Not only of rules, regulations, and taboo,
Dear Lauren,
Your head is on moving mountains
While your heart is broken into thousands
And today you fell off the track
But I'd like to guide you back
I am that nameless one, the one girl everyone seems to have an opinion on
Oh look, there's that one ! that slim one, I heard she was this , heard she was that
You hardly even know me to even talk. what do I do ?
Blood drippingLegs closedArms coveredFeelings exposed
Hearts racingWounds unhealedMorbid thoughtsLips are sealed
Alone AloneYou left againA knife in my backIgnorant men
Why hello there little boyWhat can I do for youA heaping serving of knowledge you say?Well isn’t that cute
Buring memories.
Right when memories began,the crazy things we had planned.Playing around just us two,having fun as young kids do.Laughing at the stuff we say,remembering back to yesterday.
Burrow beneath my bones
and kiss my left ventrical
Your lonely bristles
brushed against my cheek
and the sensation lingered
Leech of my fondness
give me back my desire.
There’s a bitch in my brain
she’s filled with lemon juice
and black tar
There’s a bitch in my brain
I didn’t see her
filled with fragments of broken mirrors
and
rotten fruit
I've been raised in a world that dictates who you can love.
Not by the foundation of their character, but the structure of their bodies.
A point where I feel ashamed to mention that the girl walking past me is beautiful.
My dispair flows from
Wherever I am
To where you are,
In the sweet sunshine of Californ-i-a,
Where only God can see you
And your newfound glory
Breaking our hearts,
This THING,
Take the time to listen,
Take the time to know,
Take the time to hold on,
To that which is truly good.
Every morning prior to the bedlam of alarm clocks,a smile sat royally on the throne of her majestic face.One arm thoroughly rested across her abdomen,why the other searches for an abeyant lover that
Sometimes words whisper and sometimes they scream
Some people grow in castles that gleam
Some of us start much smaller than most
Some of us learn that words leave a ghost
Our words lay out
On the roads between us
Straight as the I
Sharp as the L
Curved as the o
Strange as the v
Exit at the e
Meeting at the Y
Curved at the o
Arrive at the u
the mirror reflects
my image
i see all flaws
no light
am i really like this
is this what
others see?
She opens my eyesto a new world,a new universe,full of happiness;happiness to be with the one I lovebut also, a new world fullof hurt.They are constantly staring,plotting against us,
no matter the struggle i continue my jorney, no matter the hurt i stay strong, my life depence on my dreams, be strong and be free my n
I am…
The rainbow
is contained within
dark brown wood and a million colors.
Yet I am just one color.
Quiet, alone,
yet surrounded
by others.
I sit on that
Water you are life.
You flow through Earth's veins,
Transport us to the vast unknown,
Whiten the cold, frozen ground and
Darken the sky and let out a cry.
Earth, prisoner on watery shores.
scars are something i have plenty of,
some are bigger than other
but they're all caused from something i've once loved
and mine are usually worse than anothers,
all my scars tell a story
They shape our lives and watch us grow, they are a part of us. They humiliate us and make us laugh, you can't help but to love them. However, ometimes things don't go as planned, it spirals out of control and leaves you feel breathless.
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Raindrops kiss my face
And in this pour I dance
Will this gun violence ever stop?
Will we have to wait till we've heard the trigger click of the last glock?
When I pick up my instrument,
I feel as if all my fears melt away,
Everything and everyone slowly fade,
That’s when I begin to play.
I feel as if all my fears melt away,
In the dawn, when the sky blooms rosy pink,
And ignites with gold,
I would dance in wild dales,
And cavort through cloud-caked skies.
My feet would lick up fairy tears,
Suspended on trunks of grass,
There's a girl I knew
Who wore a curtain over her face
That blurred the person underneath
And stole her precious personality
She lived on cloud 9
In a house made of broken hearts
I feel your pain.
I know the hate.
I see the fate we're doomed to take.
The cruel words.
The harsh remarks.
I share your scars,
and broken hearts.
We join hands.
We stand tall.
O’, terrible awful mind of mine.
How can I even begin to think when you constantly barrage me with these blatantly hopeless thoughts?
My young soul yearns for the freedoms of innocence, yet you dash these nursery time fantasies.
I wish I could be a child forever,
clinging to my mother after a bad fall on the asphalt
pained but safe in the knowledge that she is there;
It will be all right.
But days go and the nights fly away,
Behind these glasses my mind growls - full of emptiness - like my stomach. Not fed. A mosquito trapped in a window. My mind trapped in a tiger's cage. Gnawed, ripped.
He loved alcohol
more than your love
Like ever guy ,he said
those words that made you cave in
Guess he thought it was enough
To make it work
To fall in love
Blood flowed like a river
to the drain.
Sirens pierced
the night stillness
as my stretcher
shook
with unrelenting vibrato.
CT scans delayed
while
fountains of crimson
What do I see?
A world filled with hatred.
I see a world were man can't be with man. They can't be seen holding hands.
I see a world with double standards because if you're a lesbian it's cool.
What is freedom? Is it the light I see in this dark place? Is it just a word, or do I give the meaning to it? Is it the feeling of floating freely in poisonous water?
I never thought this would happen,
They would say, "It doesn't exist,"
I knew they were full of it, after our first kiss.
From that moment on, I knew Love could be,
I never thought this would happen to me.
Once I was hurt,
Once I was shattered,
Once I was young & knew no better.
Now that time has passed & I've had time to heal,
The love she has shown me has never been so real..
(For Christina)
Different, Different is the laughter, Different are the tears, Different is the feeling knowing you're one of my fears.
Suck it in suck it out.
What are you trying to do, pass out?
Not something you wish to be?
Take heavy thoughts in wisely.
It is hard to watch when it's hard to breath.
Will you stop going weak, don't deceive.
A pasted on smile, stretched over bleached white teeth
Perfect skin, clean and bright
Perfect body, toned, tanned, and fit
Perfect hair, straighted and dyed
THESE are robot girls, ripped from glossy pages.
The darkest night hides a chilling truth,
Invisble to even the most adept sleuth.
Creaking, whining, shrieking, twining,
Sneaking through the depths subliming,
Reaching out to the gleaming sun,
I live inside my own head
where there is a garden
and no door
“you let the garden wilt & rot”
“I wanted to,” I said
Doll lips upon the petals
trying to breathe life back into the garden.
I've been put down
But i don't give anyone a frown
It's irritating
I don't show that it's fustrating
I'm going to be at the top
making people's jaws drop
because they didn't make it to the top
“Found”
When I was four, I died.
And for the life of me, I could not be alive.
When Its light brown eyes turned into dark moonless nights, It still shone bright.
Time is irreversible, but lets sit in a hypothetical world.
When we move back, every motion is different.
Disappearing is still considered a footprint
So move back to the initial attack on the system
What is one to doWhen all you can envisionIs an impending visit fromThe cops, inquiring about theLatest teen statistics?
The sulky piano speaks its sad song.
Its tears spill out as minor cords.
Its black and white dressing shows no color,
But its slow song brings happiness
To creatures close enough to hear.
And that’s all it needs
The time is approaching, Summer breeze in the air
Clocks are ticking, Yet we seem to not care
Friends and parties are on our mind
Unfortunately, not realizing, were running out of time
The words that I will say
They all must sound cliché
But they do not lose truth
or ever become passé
My words they do convey
A message that's been delayed
For spoken word still leaves a whole
Why do I write?
Why do you breathe?
Why do you blink?
Why do you sleep?
Why do you eat?
Because we have to.
Why do I write?
Why do you go to school?
Why do you have a job?
He'll soon see
Through your ways
And finally know
What I know
You'll try and tell him it's ok
And put on that phony show
You'll make him believe it's all his fault
Oh to life’s little desires
Through irresistible body’s pleasures
Such do they bring the hottest fires
Within you cannot control
Within it gives comfort and console
Promises to make things better
Can one attain the ability to
Invoke happiness onto
Himself or herself
Would denial have to tie into
This indefinable equation
Although to each his own
But what is its definition
I think constantly
Insesantly
Thoughts pour though my mind
Some malevolent some kind
I can't stop the steam
They are flowing all the time
Thereis no cure
You can only treat the symptoms
I was having
A pretty better-than-average day at my well-paying job
Repeating my pleasant cashier script to my mostly-pleasant customers
Pretending all of life’s boo-boos don’t exist
Billy was once a kid in my grade.
When we were little she would wouldn't go out, not even for the town's parade.
You see, Billy had a speech impediment.
Children would tease her for her words-their abuse became adamant.
You gave me love
and that was enough
yet you continued to give me smiles
loads, miles, even piles
My words, you enlightened to make me whole
everlasting shine that filled a bottomless hole
The stars are shining bright
In the middle of the sky
Producing a faint light
As I look up and sigh
Their beauty is unmatched
So bright and real
I've grown quite attached
To their perfect appeal
Writing is like
A mirror
That shows you
What your body
Can never reveal.
Your thoughts.
Your feelings.
Your desires.
Such things
Are not so clear
In reflective glass.
What happens to me when,I write all the words on a page andit brands my brain then,I watch it flow.Stuck in my own head knowing, nowhere to go.All this stories, roaring and consuming
"How I Found Poetry"
The first time I picked up a poem;
Shel Silverstein took me away.
I could not put the book down;
so with the story I stayed.
As I continued to grow older;
I am a writer.
When I was younger, my mother told me
"Use your words! Use your words!"
when I wanted something or was trying to get my point across.
And even though she claims now it was her 'biggest mistake'
Aching, screaming
Shortness of breath,
Begging, pleading
Wanting to cheat death
Bargains, promises
It will happen no more,
If only time froze
And would rewind to before.
To my father whose blows bruised my body and my heart
Who did everything in his power to make me feel like less of a man
Whose hands, rough and worn by the harsh realities of life, I still fear to this day
I write to you.
Whenever I place a pen to a blank paper
I pause like a diver on a high diving board
Looking down at the waters below, so far away,
So far removed from the casual air of everyday life
I write because I don't know what else to do when things seem so crazy and I can't get through to anybody because no one wants to listen to me except that piece of paper where the pen through which my heart bleeds out as ink onto the only outlet I
It began with button.
“Butt-uhnn” I said excitedly while pointing at my mother's navel, and then my own indentation where I was once attached.
When I began to write it was to escape from a dark place.
To be joined to a rap group that expressed a substantial amount of grace.
Silent yet too powerful to overcomeWe can only feel it when it’s too lateSomething we can’t cure, it can hurt anyoneThe victim’s pains will only escalate
Poetry is hope
It means you don’t have to be alone
Even when you are
It’s the light breaking through
Darkness swirling, spreading, growing
Poetry is beauty
Fingers curl around a ball point pen,
paper is out and ready.
A thought comes to mind,
and is transferred onto a single white sheet.
Ink, like a fountain, pours out
making the task easy to complete.
Rhythm and rhyme,
A logical use of my time.
A creation of wonder and thought,
My own separate world with life being brought.
Dripping words
Tongue in cheek
You smile hyperboles
You breath in Irony
Spitting
Grinding
Regurgitating metaphors
When i write it gives me an escape
From all of my trials and tribulations
My writings take me to a special place
I started writing because my feelings always seemed to get in the way
To which are you referring
The lines that you are blurring
The hands unheld and the tears untouched
Hungry, hurting, hopeless
Do you know?
Those little nesting dolls?
The ones that have numerous layers
And a puny center
Well, identify and personality are like those nesting dolls
Writing is a passage to the soul,
A life etched in ink or coal.
My story is different and unheard
Yet so many find it so absurd.
I write to tell my story,
I write to escape my quarry,
She yells with a voice
That reaches far beyond miles
She yells to rejoice
Towards upside down smiles
She screams to find peace
To a world full of tears
She screams to find joy
To a crowd with no ears
I write to be free and let everyone hear my voice
when a lot of the times I don't have a choice
When to get up when to go to bed
how to walk how to hold my head
what to wear and what I can buy
when you look at me what you see
darskin ,brown eyes and sandy brown hair\
do see a big smile, with dark lips
someone thats not that tall
but stand so tall and proud
all the time
The teacher stands in front of the class
"Today we'll start writing poetry"
Immediately the kids begin to sass
simply for the new foreign artistry.
It wasn't like the red roses and blue violets
Tic. Tok. Tic. Tok. Tic. Tok.
Time is running away, growing short, fading to black.
It's the end of the film, time to applaud, time to give praise.
When the grain of sand is used, it's gone away, no getting it back.
Tenth grade English class
For the first time: Frost, Cummings
A world of beauty,
Love, and passion where I can
Escape the routine of my life
I began to write
When I was twelve;
And at first, I couldn’t
Do it very well.
Yes, I could rhyme,
But I used many clichés,
But I started writing for a boy,
So I wrote every day.
The sun shine, and the grass grow.
The leaves fall, and the moon glow.
The cars honk,and the wolf howl.
I write because it makes me smile.
The wind blow,and the ground shake.
language
it shifts
changes
rearranges
it moves
and remains
but a word is a word
and blue is blue
but is blue to me the blue to you?
is this poem my poem
or is for you?
A poem by Alan Turing…
Title: Who is Worthy?
Who can dictate whether or not an individual is worthy?
Ignorant individuals view others based merely on their own journey.
Why I Write
How else would I describe the setting sun?
The beauty of pink and yellow glow
How would I describe being in love?
Why do I write?
When things are not alright
I'm full of fright
Yet trying to be polite
Thus, I keep it all inside
Wallowing in my own pride
But it all shows in my stride
Messages, communication--
This is what I love.
It's why I write songs and
share God's good news.
Poetry, like quiet music
Is similar,
And I write it
for the same reason.
An empty canvas
Is as pure as snow,
And as white as the clouds
As time struggles on
The canvas is yellowed and aged,
It is torn and mangled,
The canvas is distraught,
Well, I have a shovel in hand,
Standing before a mountain, a wonderland,
Written on a sign was, "Stranger, you'd better dig,"
-find all the treasures, all the 'thingamajigs.'
and you'll be glad you did."
Why I Write.
Well, I write because my lips are sealed,
Im speechless,
The words on the paper stab at my meekness and rips open my flesh,
Only to show that the outside is decent but the inside is a mess.
Free is a bird whose wings are unburdened by the problems of the world
With a pen and paper, I am free to be who I am
And who I want to be
Free to express myself, my words, my thoughts
“You just told me you’re
taking somebody else home because
I,
Your girlfriend,
won’t go home with you.”
“At least I told you this time.
So you can’t get mad at me.
Every time I write it is as if I am splattering a little bit of myself across the sky
for the world to see. I’d say, “Look! That’s what I AM.”
Generation Gap
Now I type but then in times
Before this our culture used symbols as words.
Indus spoke an indecipherable language to us now.
To unearth their meaning even so long after
When I write a poem, at first, I feel so nervous--
like a lovesick, teenager experiencing her first kiss.
You feel a burning sensation in your stomach
as though a flame inside has been ignited, then,
Stage lights, clear stage, waiting crowd outside.
Until it is my moment to go,
Behind this curtain I will abide.
I feel my innumerable heart beats
Simulate a drum roll audible to only my ears.
I find it quite clear,
That by reading, my dear,
I find myself trekking in a world rather queer,
Things far away seem oddly so near,
I listen to sounds that are quite impossible to hear,
Since the dawn of time, critisizm, judgment, and alienation has been happening. Racism and hate has been spread.
The silent urgeTo end my lifeSearching for bloodOn my skin with a knifeI do not flinchAs the blade runs deepBlood spilling overWith a painless creepAnother cutAnother tear
Each sunrise highlights this ongoing battle of relapse and recovery. In a world overruled by the constant roar of flying bullets outside your window, it isn't hard to not check under the bed every night for monsters.
I am a writer.
Who is writing a poem.
Words flow, but is a river made?
A river flows but were any words made?
I write and write and write and write
But does that always mean I'm right?
There was a certain familiarity to itLike breathing.Creating a stage of my own desiresWith my pen
No, I don't run fast, but I am always moving toward my future;
I've never been truly talented, but I'm always trying to push myself;
And I have no idea how to achieve my dreams, but I will always try to reach them.
I write for the people who fought for me,
paved the way for a better and brighter future for us.
That encouraged the intelligence and strength-
of a people who are shunned.
When the walls move in and the room gets small,
When the ground disappears and I suddenly fall,
When the sky gets so dark I can only see black,
When reality disappears, I have a panic attack…
Another day with
a blocked mind.
The pen and paper
remain uncaring.
They sit, waiting to be
Used.
In the evening,
my mind settles.
Words form.
The paper is scribbled on.
A blank expanse stretched across the flat, like unscathed, snowy ground,
Yearning still for its promised adornment, pleading to be found.
A lightly clasped structure, aimed with ink, is eager for the rush,
So this is a story of a boy and a girl
Who wanted to run away from the rest of the world
Their lives were so different
From the ones we all know
They hid their emotions
Never let them show
I can smile and look at everythingTwisting a strand of hair with my finger,A childish expression i wear to pass the time. Until then I am wasting my time skipping and stepping on broken leaves,My toes growing numb from the water soaking into my sh
Swaddled, protected- from Ugly to Envied Beauty. The New, I embrace. Fragile at first, I burst free. Stretching my tenacious wings I fly my own path. Clinging to my birth place, to Origin- I return- Back as new with changed limbs. Fragile th
It’s amazing what can hide behind a smile.
But once the first tear falls all the walls crumble.
Anything is poetry
The bird that just perched on a tree all alone
Two people were fighting and one slammed down the phone
Just write a few lines
Take your time
Make it rhyme
Or not.
To get away from the drama that just may consume me
I write my hearts true desires
the thickness of the pain
layers upon layers
have taken a painstaking toll on me
writing takes the weight off my shoulders
What is a life with out words,
Words are everything,
Without words how do we communicate?
Even they talk; the birds,
They have a nice ring,
Words decipher at a fast rate,
I was first persuaded by Nick,
“You can never win”
Society roars
They seek for more
More is what they yearn
A sudden fill of whispers fill the air
Not ever so rare
You can never win
Tears protrude
I am a writer with no topic,
But everything to be said.
I am in love with the scene of blank pages,
But am terrified by their audacity.
I could script a scene of poets,
I was a boy who was so confused.
I felt like a hopeless toy.
The joy starts to flow like the skies of my light.
It's hard to reminisce the battle wounds.
It guided me through my shame.
Life,
It takes you by surprise,
Thoughts, secrets, worries, stories,
It all adds up,
Losing a sister,
A best friend,
Having the time of our lives,
Growing,
Making memories,
Sometimes, I believe I might be dreaming.
But I can’t really think.
I feel an image in my mind;
but I can’t really see.
There’s white noise in living;
but I can’t really hear.
Numb the pain
Or bring feeling back.
That equilibrium is vital
Too much feeling
I cannot function
Not enough leads to the same
Tell the world
how I feel.
Pick me not a flowerAs though that were all I amA quickly fading pretty thingJust a trinket in your hand
I think about you when you're not by my beside
You live miles away so that's almost all the time
Even worse we're going to college separate ways
Both hoping the relationship will never fade
Hands lock,
fingers curl.
Eyes twitch.
Just a few of the many things
we do together.
When walking on the beach,
seagulls high above us.
People waving hello as we get higher,
Poetry is an expression of feelings deep inside,of hidden secrets, inspired dreams, or the wanderings of the mind.It may be complicated or something that can't be said,
Throughout ancient time
human kind
has been confine
to the design
of someone else's mind
but im finally here
establishing my identity
my humanity
I am he
I am I
I am me
The paper is my portal
And the pen, my magic.
I don't live to write,
I write to live.
Because reality can be
Too much to handle,
And the truth
Too much to bare.
Why close an eye on a stormy day?
Is it the fear that keeps you,
or within are you shy of the matter?
Ever flowing medicine that cleanses within.
Words.
All are taken, all are removed.
To be Heard, To Speak my Mind
Too long my voice has been ignored
Too long my voice has been silenced.
I say no more.
I say ENOUGH.
I have a mind:
Powerful.
Brilliant.
Unique.
I have never been able
to trust my mouth
to repeat what I tell it to say,
so the words fell from my mouth
to my hands,
the scratch,
the scribble,
the scrawl,
they told
You know when you sit long enough somewhere
And your mind begins to wander
It wanders to the darkest depths of despair
You feel about life and its never ending twists and turns.
School, work, life
Stress
I can't breathe
Homework piled high
I need a break
Pencil, paper
Words flow freely
Ahhh, air
Sweet fresh air
A break from madness,
A mini vacation
Something that has been seen,By both those of our timeAnd the times that have passed before us. Something that will be seenBy those that come afterOur world has turned to dust. Eternal.Neverchanging.The waves flow through the sandsOf time. I write
I wrote a line or two
of poem once
because it was required of me.
An assignment given by the teacher.
And wonder of wonders
it stuck with me.
I couldn't get enough.
Poem after poem
A little bit of poetry can help feed the brain
A good anology, would be, trees and rain
Not only that but it can also help ease some pain
The way clots stop, and block, bleeding veins
I write because
I can't speak.
Words get stuck
Behind the plastic on my teeth.
It's hard to talk on the spot,
Make a great retort, or give the
Class an amazing report of the
We all start out as embers
(with a potential for passion but a forecast for failure)
that need careful, tedious, tending.
as time passes, guardians slowly wander away,
but return quickly as needed
I was born without a mouth,
And taught never to shout out,
Or questions things or try to change,
It’s best if it remains the same.
Without a mouth,
There is no voice,
That can be heard,
Writing for me is more than scribing ink on papyrus
It’s freedom and duty for me to uphold what is righteous
I speak not for myself for I have nothing of value of which to say
I am an infinite doubter,
But my hope weighs more.
In this lifetime I could see
Marriage equality.
Marriage isn’t about the word—it’s about a cosmic explosion of wholeness.
First voice: poets anonymous how may I help you?
I am addicted to poetry many of the symptoms include
1. Dry throat because I have spit fire multiple time a on a stage
She speaks in tones of survival-
when my ancestors first were mistaken for railroad ties,
chink
goes the sound of hammer striking metal we were
I like poetry, because it's easy to read
Where the writer has kept
Only what you need.
Rolling off my tounge like a summer breeze.
Not always rhyming,
But with a good flow
And immaculate timing.
It isn’t about me
It isn’t about you
It is about everybody
I don’t want one person to see
I want them all to see
I write for the world
So every continent can see
So the world can see
I am a poet, and yes I do know it.
I'm not one of the most articulate, not one of the most beautiful,
My words are set on fire by the passion in my heart
The words flow from my innermost to the paper, unconstrained.
Walking down an empty road
Passing places once called home,
Silence echoes in the air
Amongst the mist I roam.
Drifting like a flightless kite,
Submersed in dark without a light,
That feeling of utter desperation
That pit in the stomach and weight on the shoulders
The feeling of complete relief when that is erased and satisfaction
of being complete again and whole once more
I keep alot of thoughts within myself.Whenever it became too much to hold in they spewed out themselves. Words with power of their own. Prisoners inside my mind, it was not their home.Talking leads to frustration.
An oxen pulls a cart
with all its might
its muscles strain
forming shapes
that outline
patches of its body
bulging from its skin
veins protrude
Freedom has been fought for and won in many ways
Wars on land, or battles on the waves
Politics, revolutions and rebellions
But the freedom that exists no matter circumstance or strife
Words are powerful, especially when they’re written
Well, to me it is.
When we speak, people hear
But, do they actually listen?
I write because
My feelings become stronger and my thoughts are more organized
Poet notice: I wrote this poem for my final project and presented it. The parts
in parenthisis are supposed to be sang and are from various songs.
(Well here we go)
Freshmen year 2009 were the times
When I open my mouth,
no sense comes out
like a radio playing static sound.
My words filter through ears
yet no one can hear
the things they've ignored all these years.
I read poetry as a way to find beauty within the worldEven when I believe the world has been irreparably corruptedBy the big names of the corporations who trample souls to get their way
the Words sing emotions springing forth
sad songs of happiness, a melancholy air
For poetry is my self-reflection
of the world shining through imperfect eyes.
I am me not often questioning
The answer to this age old question
seems to be everchanging for me
When I was small and niave
I wrote about the boys I was to shy to speak with,
yet adored with every inch of my 4 foot frame
When the room is still,
you can hear the untencil
briskly brush the paper.
I can hear
my thoughts, my fears,
my,
emotions thump at the roundness of my skull.
The words, they scream at me.
I live in Texas weather,
It’s way too hot for us.
We always pray for rain to come,
Then we always fuss.
When it comes I’m unprepared
And don’t know what to do…
I’m undecided what to wear,
One’s mind, One’s Voice One’s dream One’s choice. Words can hurt, Words can heal. Words are everything, it’s a big deal. Taking control, is a true blessing That has this little world still guessing. You can think colors, you can think trees.
Skin deep I'm blond,
so I must be dumb,
but my mind whirls faster than most.
Skin deep I wear skirts,
so I'm a crazy conservative,
but I'm quite liberal.
Skin deep I'm not skinny,
My heart rises and falls
As a tide on a moonlit beach
With each movement comes pain and also fulfillment
I feel the sweat drip, down my face on off my cheek
The pain, brings its own form of motivation
A thought races
Quickly and quietly
Through the trenches of my mind
It lasts only a moment
And it fades forever into nothingness
I turn
Again, as if by nothing more than black magic,
Motivation,
Possibility,
and the possibility that I can grab which is beyond my reach.
I am not religious, but rather superstitious.
and Demons cloud my mind,
My faults manifest themselves as sin,
Everyone has that one “hitch” the one that they either can’t or just won’t get over… and mines is poetry. The addiction is so premature and pure.
Five years and my love for you has not changed. Five years and I never miss you any less. Five years and my longing to be with you never wavers. Nine years of your all knowing eyes. Nine years of your arms, ears, and heart wide open.
Who is the still figure illustrating my mirrored image? Is it not from the moment we are born that ignites the art of curosity, and the strive to achieve.
exhale—
watch the tendrils
of smoke dance
before being whisked away.
sitting on the porch railing
his book open beside me
as he searches for
the meaning of life.
he could give
If women are not bound by their waistlines,
Then why do girls’ eyes droop at the sight of scales?
More like blooming tulips than heady wines,
The way he stares,
makes me turn lush,
for eyes he glares,at me turn
mush.
I see myself in his eyes,
the want in his glare to have me
there in sighs.
And I said my share of words to spare,
I write to escape
Reality's dark cape.
I write to expolore
The world outside my door.
Others don't understand what writing means to me
Because they don't see the things I see.
I write to express
I begin all of my writing at a liesurely pace, in deep thought about what is going to happen next.
When we enter this world, we are new.
We are innocent and righteous;
Naturally accepting with untainted values
Unknowing of the world full of madness.
By the age of ten, the influence has begun.
Before my waking life, I was colors
I was the flowing frequency unheard
Undetected
Existing bodiless, yet connected still
To everything that ever was
A blinding flash of energy
I don’t write to live
I live to write
Words flow from me give
My thoughts new light
No other form
Could myself express
The freedom I get
From writing.
My feelings, my thoughts,
Pain is an ocean. Drowning me.
Words were the lifeboat. Rescuing me.
I was young. Probably thirteen.
They were my heroes. Writers.
They were believers. Fighters.
A wide-eyed boy. Follower.
I write in the night,
not a soul but my pen and paper
witness my craft take flight.
Fear is the reason I hide.
Fear of failures cruel laughter.
Fear of dissapointments cold embrace.
Uneventfully I awoke.
Unsurprisingly the sun beating hot on the single paned windows –
Caused dew drops of moisture to form
Dragging myself out of bed,
Discarding one used shirt for another,
Para aquel hombre sentado bajo el sereno de la noche,
Con su mirada perdida en el tiempo sin ningún reproche,
A ese hombre de cabellos plateado,
La vida lo lleno de doradas riquezas que el mismo fue cosechando,
I won’t pretend to be an unfortunate soul,
With hardships and suffering I could barely handle.
But I have had my fair share of emotional misery.
Tears have fallen on my pillow
Why I write...
It's simply for existence.
I am a vessel full of words.
Peek inside me
and that is what you will see.
I am raw emotion
And I want no filter
to make me murky.
A smile that shone as bright as the sun,
A laugh that keeps one going till the day is done,
The girl that once walked with the confidence others dreamed of
Now claims the blackened heart- now free of love.
The smell of orange popsicles drip summer afternoons
Daisies climb to the edge of scraped knees
Kiss me gently, and beg to be tucked behind my ear,
I’ll take you with me
To tell a story,
To sing a song,
To rewrite the words
of times gone by,
Or write of the times
that have yet to come,
To use our right
of freedom of speech,
To relieve our grief
I’m at a state of confusion, so many emotions bubbling to the surface.
I hate you, I love you, I look up to you, I look down at you.
When my thoughts can't form Coherent sentences I can put together My fragmented thoughts Into stanzas.
Tell it as it is.
We have multiple ethinicities.
Multiple sexualities.
Multiple religions.
Multiple desires.
Multiple needs.
Multiple looks.
Multiple situations.
We have one thing.
shes tough, she plays hard to get, she makes you smile like you were five again. laugh like a kid and makes you feel like theres nothing in the world but you and her. she is like the angel frim the sky but she is buetiful and amazing.
Sand in my pockets, skipping off my fingers, and stuck in my eyelashes, under my tongue and between my teeth.
At the age of 16 thought she had love
she was only in love with the presence
of him his face , his body, his rep
it was a mutual infactuation
the relationship progress to
only create stress my friend
Words written in led or words written in ink;
whenever I find a chance, I really begin to think.
Words written in red or words written in pink;
When I find the chance to write, it feels like it was meant to be.
Intertwined deep within your mind, I do see craving for more.
It's clawing inside you, breaking it all,
Making you numb, oblivious to the high.
You want nothing more than that drug your soul desires.
For hundreds of years blacks have died by whips and chains
Its' 2013 and blacks are still dying over whips and chains.
Our heroes fought to make a change
So why should'nt the new generation do the same
The words expressed
bring peace of mind
the simple rhyme
helps me unwind
It helps things make sense
and gives me confidence
It helps me speak
It helps me think
I write because i can't express the way things make me depressed.
Not aloud atleast, so on pages i unleash a beast.
Everyone is under the impression that i don't feel, that alone makes me reel.
Silence
Silence is golden
No, there lies truths unfolded
Gold is the truth and silence is the corrosion
Failure to speak of such things
Leads to conversations about other things
Why I write? A question so simple and small.
How else could each moment become history?
Yesterday's memories to the wayside would fall.
I could not keep to myself in silent reverie,
Days go by from that day
People were desperate each day
They would show their stuff off
They would even sleep in a loft
No one could bring up the money
No one couldnt even afford a donkey
Why do I write through day and night
through fights and strife
and loss of sight?
Because poetry will remain.
When my plane loses flight
and I fall from heights
and I'm filled with fright.
Poetry to me is like the air I breathe. It lives in everything I see because it's everything I believe.
When I had no one poetry had me.
I visited the doll factory today, though I usually keep it at bay. Society is frequently consumed by them all, but just remember dear: Don't you dare fall. Every doll looks the same, porcelain, white, and oh-so mundane.
"Why do I write?"Sounds more like "Why do I live?"I write because I have have no choiceOr rather because I have the willAnd the power to be able to expressMy emotion through the usage of This thing called "The English Language." I didn't wake up o
Music is going down the Highway listening to Kool and the Gang's "Summer Madness" Thinking about those days When you felt that Cool summer breeze on your face.
Let’s give them guns,
Let’s show them how to shot someone,
Let’s to teach them to feel nothing about seeing the blood of their family,
Let’s watch their souls turn into masters of death,
We have created monsters,
I write because,
It's my true self,
It's how I vent,
Anyone can read a poem,
But each person will have a different take,
Whether it be bad or good,
Nothing beats the moment when someone says,
People tell me everything is going to be ok,
That things are going to get better,
But, how do they know?
How do they know what’s going on,
When it’s not happening to them,
Just like a butterfly she's hard to catch
Just like a butterfly she's unique
Just like a butterfly she's hard to pair with a match
Just like a butterfly she's a mystery
Tis given that so we go about our lives
Flame-filled flesh foregoing the world,
Hidden and concealed, in the shadows of the mask,
Seeking the grain to erect the pearl.
The world is spinning too fastI can’t keep up at allI try to reach for help butI find myself falling
Can anybody helpPut me back together?I can’t stop fallingFurther into darkness
I hate the way you look at me
I hate it when you could see through me
I wonder why you're the only one I see
And everyone else around me is busy
I hate the fact that you were the only one who could understand me
You know when you finally find a place you belong?
a home, a place where your heart feels set,
a place that feels safe?
When days are long and exhausting
It is like we are sailing away and yet we are at bay
still in the middle of tomorrow and yesterday
not knowing why we try so hard to live in the moment
Just because
4.0 knows the equations of quantum mechanics
Doesn't mean that he is smarter than 2.0
1.0 might not know the terminal side of an angle
So I'm finally reunited with my friend at long last, She is a close and dear friend from my past. Back then, everytime we talked was a moment of bliss, I was always thinking, "Man, it couldn't get any better than this." You see, back then I was
I've never been so worried or sad,
or angry or anxious or mad,
than when I first knew I loved you.
I had been hurt a lot before,
physically, verbally, maybe a little more,
Writing, it's quite a release,Giving away the emotions of the day.Writing, it brings me peace.
Sometimes, I don't want to cease,It lets me say what I want to say.Writing, its quite a release.
Anxiety ruled
Emphasis on past tense used
May have saved a life.
They say birds of a feather
flock together.
But maybe that’s why I feel under the weather.
With my body tethered to this world I sought a way to be liberated.
In the darkness and the rain,My life will never be the same.The driver crossed into my lane,And for my trauma is to blame.
Hello to girl world
Boys are their big prize
Pink car to my surprise
Music cranked
Phone in reach
Happy to be alive
"Happy Girls are pretty girls"
Hello Cliche
Phone calls from
The emptiness consumes you, filling your soul with darkness, you can't run fast enough, you can't hide well enough, Because it is inside you, forever.
Anger, love, all emotions
Bottled up inside
Nothing with breath cares
Only the lined paper
The lines absorb the hate
They give all their love
The lined paper will always be there
My mind races,
Screaming to be heard.
But the words blur,
The sentences trickle away.
My jaw clenches shut,
And my mouth turns to desert sand.
A lump invades my throat,
Perfect flowers do exist.
But only where the good people are.
When I close my eyes at night—
I like to think that only then am I waking up—and everything else is a dream.
it's true, I say
that the pain stays inside
that we don't know where to hide
but why? you ask
because we're broken
because we're lost
because we are alone
I'm being so lazy
It's driving me crazy
I can't even describe this weird and boring vibe
I sit outside thinking to myself
Looking at the stars and wondering how they are placed so perfect
My dear old friend, your time on this earth has ended
For me, it was much too soon and I wish I could of arranged it so I was more prepared
Staring and declaring
No known piece of evidence
But my factual mind can prove everything
I could've sworn he was apart of me
Growing from my rib
And configured from the ground
Naturally I wear my hair jet blac with no perm,Naturally I speak my mind if I see it fit,Naturally I am artistic,Naturally in nature I am me.
Man's world unfolds fool's gold
and wild vanities untold
The sake of being pious is valued at minus
Ruthless is cherished as highness
Brandished guns and sharpening knives
I don't how much more I can take.
You're bending me until I break.
You're making me get closer to the ledge.
Soon I'll be falling off the edge.
Hitting the ground.
I will lose all sight and sound.
I write to keep the food down
I write to clear my tears
I write to stay alive
Maybe it is smarter to pick up the pen
Than it is to bend over a toilet bowl
I write to be worth something
I will lay down today,
and my world will melt away.
Let my heart lake flight.
I wont even put up a fight.
I will watch as everything goes black,
with a fear that I lack.
The world is more vivid for you
Then me,
Trapped in the mono-green, Womb of the earth.
Watching you all scurry by
Seeing more with your naked eye
Each and every question, by you or I, to me
My mind is quick to answer, so sure I’ll feel it be
An evolution strikes, as dusk turns into dawn
Awakened with wide eyes, my decision’s fully wrong
The darkness encloses slowly,
Circling my mind and keeping
Me from feeling anything.
Why am I always so alone?
Secretly weeping a river
Of memories to slip,
I am a dreamer and a believer,
A student who strides to be the best.
Only willing to be an explorer,
Of a future filled with tests.
It won't be easy to succeed,
But I will not let life pass me by.
Call me crazy to admit my past affiliations.
Call me insane to pursue my aspirations.
Shall I lose my sanity to issues of nonsence and dislocated tangents
As I search for everlasting fullfillment?
It was so easy at first.
Like a moth to the flame.
I was an innocent victum.
And you a harmless game.
Just skip one,
it can't hurt?
After all, what's the worst?
Nobody can see the damage,
A creative child
Driven wild
By one’s own imagination
Thoughts abound
Running around
Dreaming of creation
No one knows
A story untold
Of one’s pent up emotions
I was close
So close
To letting you go
Then you came back
Back into my life
Told me how you love me
How you've missed me
So I return those truths
Hope boiling over
Now I sit here
I saw it among the others,the bright dazzling purple pen caught my eye.I knew I must have it.I must rescue it from the dull colors surrrounding it.Eager to use my prize,I drop its point on my paper.
I hate you. I want you out of my life. I lied.
I love you. I wanted to make things work. I tried.
Your actions as well as your words cut me deep.
I cannot stand it any longer
Should I fight and Should I die
Would I feel at peace or cry?
O' wonderful person before me
I can't help but feel as if you tease me
The love of poetry that came
The love of words that began
It all happened here—At poetry slam
Words begin to build
Ideas begin to flourish
My mind became blown
This my dedication to Pac.
I sizzle and pop like crack rock.
It’s like Snoop Dogg walking
Round the boondocks.
This tune pops like something
Outta an mc’s mixtape,
With drugs, alcohol, and
To fall and crash, to climb back up
Is what my sister did.
All throughout her high school years,
She was a faulty kid.
To sneak and lie and just mess up
Was her kind of thing.
Poems are used to express
one’s feelings and emotions.
They can be seen as a recess
or even as a potion
I write to bring out
all the words that were just lost
Word upon word, page upon page
This is why I write
Escape the hurt and pain, all the realities of this world
I am a warlock, the pen is my wand
And with it I create
My imagination fuels my passion
Some may say we are nothing more than players in an overcrowded game. We're spread in different layers but we're nowhere near the same. We, ourselves hold our destiny they can't control our actions.
Why do I write?
Why, of course for the power!
The power to choose,
The fate of the story,
How does it start and how does it end?
Rings and spirals fill my sight,
Coloring the empty space.
Everything is glowing with and eerie light.
Comets fly by in a dangerous race.
I'm not mute
Though my lips are silent.
Not cruel
Though my thoughts turn violent.
I don't agree
When I have nothing to say.
My mind rebels
When my feet obey.
You ask for my thoughts
A girl sits in this world
helplessly
waiting for a reaching hand
having no one to look up to
no one to understand
she follows the wrong things
growing up way to fast
her life is like danger
I write because I can express myself freely.
I write because it's a doorway to another world.
I write because it's my form of art.
Writing is my anti-drug.
Expressing myself with no ridicule,
I watch her closely--
As her smile broadens,
Her dark curls caress her blushing cheeks
And her eyes carefully roam beds of flowers.
She reaches down,
Plucks a handful of daisies,
"Hey! Remember me?No?Come on! Don’t you recognize me? Your best bud since that quiet scary night in 93. You were just a babe, remember, sleeping in the dark? When I swept in like a clever snake and crept into your heart.
Why I write:
I write to unleash desire
Like many forbidden dreams, I write at night
I write to control the beast who wishes to devour
Young and innocent at 17 years old
His life and fate stands in the hands of a man so cold
Mis judgment of character and based upon looks
Zimmerman took it upon hisself for the life he took.
What is it that gives a word power
Is it the tone of your voice, the way you emphasize, and prophesize
Or does it come from your soul, pouring out every second, every hour
I began as any other:
unable to know my other talents.
I wanted to test myself further:
finding them with many accidents.
It began as a task that was given:
write a poem with five stanzas.
Just make sure you succeed
They say,
Never lose sight of who you are
She says,
One cannot achieve without a degree
He says,
I feel as though I will fail!
We cry.
The difference in you using your voice
Can mean the choice of leading a revolution
Or watching underdogs silenced
Now which would you chose?
During many points in my story
Where I thought I was dead.
Ever since I was young,
I knew.
Knew that my world needed expanding,
to open on itself,
I write to create,
new worlds and new lives,
I write to destroy,
hatred and fear,
My dearest darling,
I am right here can't you see?
You are the one who set me free.
My smiling sunshine,
You gave me courage when I doubt,
You make me smile when I pout.
I tap my pen and bite my lip
Thinking of subjects on the slip.
Not a word comes to mind for an instant
But my mind whirs, fingers twitch insistent.
Then suddenly ablaze the worlds fly
Compressed with so much anger,
My body cannot take.
So little, frail, and meager,
I then begin to shake.
The feelings forced inside me,
Are harshly packed so full.
Ask me why I write.
And I’ll ask you why you breathe.
Writing is my air.
I started writing to express the hurt that was wrapped,
twisted, and concocted inside of me.
It seemed to be the only way that I could fully open up
and express where I actually wanted to be.
Wherever I would goRight or left, up and down and all aroundI could never really see much in lifeTo relax and be happy, wasn't much my styleI and everyone else could see, that I wasn't really me
I try to go to you,When I need to talk.But instead of listening all the way throughYou decide to walk.I try to let you know how I feelBut no matter what is said
Music is what makes you move
Music is what makes you groove
Music can be good or bad depending on how it's used
Music can make you choose different clothes to wear
Music can make you change your hair
Why I write
That is the question isn’t it?
Why do rhymes and songs of verbs and the paintings of words consume my spirit?
To be the sustenance of my soul and the beatings of my heart?
As my tears cry in poetry
We sound alike
we really do.
Your voice flows through mine --
salty and strong.
Well, you spit fire, my dear.
It has been the start of my life
and the birth of my heart.
It has sparked my interest
and left its mark.
Poetry has been a part of my life,
for many years it would seem.
It has helped me out
Feeling deserted and solitary
Just me, a pen, and paper
My emotions settle in and beign to vary
Never once did i think it would happen again
But thinking back i was only ten
There are many reasons regarding why people write
Whether it is as a hobby or to pass time by
However, I write for a truly different reason
Emotions blur my judgment and vision
Anger flashes and the red lights glisten
Jealousy shines green in ways to distract
Love, a pink hue, makes my reason retract
Then sorrow, empty, deep blue, blinding
If you really knew me.
You wouldn't believe the words coming out my mouth.
Because what you are about to hear is to cruel for a human ears.
But i want dare tell a soul.
Not because they didn’t ask.
If you really knew me.
You wouldn't believe the words coming out my mouth.
Because what you are about to hear is to cruel for a human ears.
But i want dare tell a soul.
Not because they didn’t ask.
I think, I think.I thought.SoI write, I write.I wrote.Sit,I speak, I speak.I spoke,what was written on my notes.
On my body there are scars
Ugly, hideous scars
These scars feel detached
As if they are not mine
But are simply leeches
Unwilling to let go
On my body there are scars
(poems go here)
I write because I don't know how not to,
how not to express the pains and gains
from the claims and vanity of this life.
When does trying to taste the rainbow, lead to tasting death?
a man walks while one is burried,
holding his head up as high as his gun did...
My mind cannot be held prisoner
It has to be set free.
This is why I became a writer.
To express all the thoughts in me.
Because always the muses are heard
in the whispers of the half-yellow hills floating awake
and also in her whispers, so eager to be aloof from me.
Because always the pen-arm desires
I use poems to tell my thoughts when normal words won't do
To express my inner, darker sides that I'm afraid of too
It feels like in my darkest times, my words come best in rhyme
The words are boiling in my blood.
To speak of things yet unsaid.
I take a pen and let it bleed.
Innocent pages white now red.
I dare not seal these words of mine.
I write to experience you, Lord,
Your abundant grace,
Always embracing me in your love,
Breaking my self,
To love others.
I write to express my frustration,
The world wears me down, but,
I write because I go through hard times
Family and friends are not always there
Most of my problems rhyme
I do not always share
People just look at physical appearance
Where did the old me go?The one who didn't cry every night?The one who never disappointed anyone.The one who loved everything.The one who always had a smile?
I'd like to be an artist. Paint and sing and dance and show my love through colors;
emotion.
I actually dreamed of writing history.
Telling the world of when and how and then;
Life and its many surprises.
What happens before each sunset and after sunrises.
That is why I write.
The ups and downs,
the smiles, the frowns,
the laughs, the snorts,
Why I Write?
I write because if I don’t
Somebody else will tell my story
Somebody else will see what I saw
Feel what I felt
Hear what I heard
For me
Why I Write?
"Scribble, scribble, scribble, scribble, scribble, scribble...CRACK!"
I groan as look down to see what my pencil had attacked.
The words seem ok, the sentences intact,
Here I Walk Alone On This Street,Not Knowing My Life Would Innocently Be Taken From Me,Why Do Us Children Have To Be So Shattered, Hard times And Hard Struggles Is What Happens In Life But,Sometimes It's Just Too Much To Continue, Trayvon Isnt A I
I write because when I scream
my words fall out of my throat like angry gasps
I write because when I dance
my hands become intertwined with vibrations and words i cannot understand
I write.
I write to love,
for the people who do not deserve my love.
I write to feel,
the emotions I do not feel.
I write to express,
so I can release the anger within.
I write to understand,
Follow me back to a moment in time
A memory for me. In a crypt. In my mind.
Waiting for him, it's an hour past five
In comes Drew with his broken blue eyes.
He sits across me in a cold seat that grinds,
Why do we write?
It's almost like screaming, but so quiet-
So innocent- so unimposing,
almost as if we were trying not to disturb the world with our words.
Every writer knows to be careful with their words,
I write to speak my mind.
I write to keep my thoughts inside.
I write to express.
I write to impress.
I write to remember.
I write to forget.
I write because I have to.
it all began a few years ago,
My eyes were opened, now i cant let it go.
It's my mom
she is the REAL bread winner in the fam
its a shame what she has for as a man
she works and works and nothing pays off
I want my first love back why am i stuck on him i wanna move on.... its seems like life without him i can't go on.. i pray yes pray that he will come back to me why i dont know because he mean so much too me..
Why I write , you might never know.
How it feels to have the words flow, from my mind through my soul to the paper..
all my secrets out to be told.
You indure the valleys lows
the world could be yours
climb the frozen mountains
the world could be yours
travel through the grassy plains
the world could be yours
Forward march, hut 2, 3, 4, hut 2, 3, 4 look at the small soldiers go.
Hut 2, 3, 4, hut 2, 3, 4, tears on the face drip slow
Hut 2, 3, 4, hut 2, 3, 4, their parents are dead and gone
I write to vent, to get the words destroying my thoughts, like the tornado that went through Oklahoma this year, out of my head. I write because I won't be judged, because I can stay anonymous. I write so others will know that they are not alone.
My days flutter and fly,
Much as the wondrous world,
Though I look up at the sky,
I still wait for my meaning to unfurl.
Each day I would lie and wait and watch the birds,
To me, poetry is an expression
An expression of various senses
What you see, hear, smell, taste and feel
You see reality, the true forms of people and things
Sheila was the biggest girl in fourth grade
With skyscrapers as legs and eagle wings as arms,
She looked down at the rest of us, and liked it that way too.
No one ever told her what to do. Not even Ms. Johnson.
Do you, do you have a halo today
Your day, your day was silence throughout
A coffin painted black
The home dressed with flowers
Words too heavy with pain,
To be given the weight of sound,
Thoughts too vile to ever deign,
To consider saying aloud,
How extraordinary is a flame. Born from nothing, it is a million vibrant reds, purples, and blues glowing with gold. It is fuelled by desire, and burns with a passion to create, grow and live.
Sometimes I wonder why the government wants to take away our rights
I wonder why I have to fight every single day of my life
Sometimes i wonder what is this hunger we have for more knowledge
Poetry expresses hidden feelings.
They make words sound appealing.
They tell stories,
Out of the words in your inventories.
Sometimes it's hard to describe how you're feeling,
Dark arms reach up inside my mind,
slithering through, coating
my thoughts with a thick film.
They become obscure.
Now the bombs explode,
cascading silent sparks-
the clanking pots and pans
Through life of worry and uneasiness,
Delightful dealings divulge disarming doubts.
But writing poems melts my life's mess,
And slows down the mental fast-moving train.
Interpreting doesn't get us far does it? You're wrong. It's what moves us along once we are stationary, when our thoughts and words settle down too. But for you? You're more than that. And for me? I'm bored by that. Poetry, poetry.
When I was a little girl
I was told I could do anything
Be anything
Achieve anything
I was told that I would always be enough
And I was convinced
That on my daddy's shoulders
Happiness isn't just an intense emotion.
It's a state of mind,
a sense of peace.
One will simply find
happiness in the moment,
not by searching for it.
Remember, there's more to being happy
MusicCountry, jazz, blues or bop,Rock, rap, swing and hip-hop.Melody and harmony flow through the air,and each little phrase has its own flare.Improv., rehearsed, each a special kind,
When you get the answer to your problem; then you think it is over,Then get a little feeling of peace and happiness, but still, you’re not going anywhere.Then you feel that special guy really likes you and adore you,
To write is to have power
The power to speak
The power to educate, and be educated.
To write is to have will
The will to believe
The will to succeed
To write is to fight
People walking around doing what they want
trying to be different without the taunt
But as a child freedom involves trust
with parents that can disappear like dust
Destroying that freedom gets you locked up
Poetry is the air I breathe, the sacred serene sound of peace, the one and only complete atmosphere, where symbols provoke happiness or fear.
Why do I write?Why do you breathe?Why do we fight?Why do we deceive?
It all seems so conspicuousexcept maybe the first.They’re all just in our nature,for better or for worse.
The release of words
Oh such a powerful thing
To express such joy or to ease the sting
Of the lives we have lived
Or the of the lives that have gone on to pass
The first day I saw you
I thought it was meant to be
But it had to be you
Who would turn me into what I didn't want to be
I had dreamt about you
Man it took me a while to realize
Not many people have experienced true loneliness
It comes with the feeling of hopelessness
And makes you feel completely empty inside
It will make you want to curl up in a corner
What is it that puts poemsIn such a fondness of our heartThe passion, rhythm, meterOh so many ways to start
A peom, mama? Now what could that be?
A poem, said she, is what we will read.
Let it drizzle into your ears
And melt away your fears
So the words that you hear will lull you to sleep
She writes for the reason of feeling.
The reason of no one believing.
Belief of who she is.
The girl of truth spoken in her ears.
The day she seen and heard.
Heard the truth being told to her.
Seafarers speak of a mother,
yet do they mean the woman who bore them
or the blessed virgin whose child granted them salvation?
No, not they.
The one of whom they speak, they sing,
is angry, is cruel,
I write to have a voice
A voice that can scream
A voice that can cry
A voice that can laugh
A voice that is understood by others
A voice that means something
I write to have feeling
When I look into the mirror I see me. I don't see 6 colors or 6 women, just 6 of me. But then I realize what you see in me. You've colored me a rainbow and that blinds you from the real me.
When a raindrop falls from the dark sky above
A tiny voice calls, in the distance looking for love
You can hear the thunder, lightning flashes in her eyes
Her body six feet under, trapped alone her soul cries
I write to ease the many stressors on my brain
I write to keep myself from giving into the pain
I write because my heart has been shattered
Voices of my friends
I hear it.
Voices of my own
I fear it.
I'm living my life on an unbalanced ladder
hoping that I will be a somebody.
A tongue is sharp and can kill,
Who knows why we are chosen,
Sometimes friends are chosen too.
I don’t understand how it's decided,
But he only took you.
The first time around,
We both made it through.
Fallen down, broken in the streets
Hopeless eyes filled with pain searching for something to eat
The broken, the abandoned and the abused
I am my poetry
I am the carefully designed
Lyrical lines
Of insanity
I am a walking scar
and poetry has healed me while leaving her mark
I do not regret
she was simply staking her place
The buzzing sounds of machines
overwhelm our power of sound,
mainstream rhythm is concealed.
Birds that beautifully chirp, chirp, chirp
It all started one day
she got threatened, got made to do something she didn’t want to do
thought it would get better, but no, it stayed the same
When I'm lost
is why...
I write.
Because sheets are white
to glow and shine light
on a better path than mine.
When I'm angry
is why..I write
a highway escaping life.
Poetry and writing means the world to me.
Without it, I am incomplete.
Without art, I am nothing.
Music, dancing and writing hold hands together in my world
And skip down the sand lined beaches of my imagination
Poems are different worlds of rhyme,
Of freestyle, meter and syncopated time.
They provide a method of escape - of retreat,
For poems allow simple words to make an entire universe complete.
Dear Old Friend,/ I Remember your crazy face / Especially when you made jokes about my hair / Walking in the shadow of the moon we laugh / Waking everybody up / Remember those days of Happiness / When we watch those ladies walk / Late to school we
A dream seems like such a harmless thing
but one day its bound to grow
with a fresh pair of wings
it flies and it flies high
far from reach and far from thought
When everything comes crashing in
And there’s nowhere to go but the wall
I transform my emotions to ink on paper
No one knows the way I feel but
A smile can’t fool my best friend,
The streets raised me from the dusk to dawn
never knew life could be less fun
suicide attempts everyday with my gun
people think i'm okay but i'm not and then some
So these words
messy messy words
get combobbled in my head.
Screwed around with
tossing and turning like
they're on a high seas adventure
of epic porportions.
And some can't hold on
Up e a r l y, sleep l a t e.
These thoughts talking all before I fall.
Asleep is where I cant go.
Because thoughts converse with e v e r y soul.
Children believe, such wonderous things,
As children are want to do.
But those wonderous things are made clear to be,
Nothing more than childish dreams.
For what once was will no longer be,
Music
Clashing sounds
Rhythmic beats
All ensuing me
Revolving around my aurora
Till it finally enters my body, euphoria
Causing my internal energies to move, enigma;
Why do I write? I write because I'm angry, I write because it's my right to write, I write because I love to.
The rhythm of the light glows bright metaphysically as I write. Dreams gratify in the night with the
messenger's kryptonite, chemiluminescence from the sixth sense fills the essence. Ogasmic waves
Society told me that I should not feel the same for men as I should for women
Society told me that I should always be covered when leaving my home
What must I do to keep this hunger inside of me?
It’s like a black hole, dark, dense, spinning, sucking, pulling,
A Never escaping nightmare.
I grab my stomach and it growls at my hand.
Where will we be
When teh Skys turn black
and everything we see
turns to attack.
There is no turning back.
The waters will rise
as the lands fall.
Birds cease to fly.
A smile, a laugh
the soft trail of tears.
He splatters them around
without refrain.
In his right hand,
a scepter, in his left
a snare.
He catches us.
Contains us.
(poems go here)Ser Inmigrante Mexicano no es cosa del otro mundo
Significa trabajar tres veces más fuerte,
dormir con preocupaciones,
vivir con sueños,
When you dance to music, you must feel so alive. When you have the wind blowing through your hair, you must feel so revived. When you drink liquor, you must feel a fluid drive. So when you try to write, do you ever feel so deprived?
As I sit down to find a writing utencil,
I quickly recite the phrases in my head.
Then, I scribble down my thoughts with a pencil
as if millions of dancing words in my head come together by a lead.
When you're young you develop dreams,
but it's easy to expect a lot and think it'll come easy.
In reality those dreams become the little things,
and all the hard work causes you to get queasy.
The cries of the people, the slash of the machete
How could we ignore?
The millions of bodies that lined the roads, the celebrations of the killers
How can we forget?
Poets have power through words, phrases, and rhymes
There is always meaning behind every line
Poetry is an escape, a world unknown
The beauty is that you can refer back to feelings and emotions you felt, after you've grown
Pain-filled days run longand hope is dashed with careless words.Love is lost in a night's sleep and reawoken in hopeful dreamsOnly to be found dead in the morning light.
As I listen to her taunting me
With a daunting smile
Bickering and fighting
Like a child
She’s in my face so is the crowd
She shouts pop off bitch pop off
Were close closer than close
Back when tying my shoes warranted a pat on the back,
and I sang Scooby-Dooby Doo as Mom cooked dinner--
back when I sat on the laundry machine to hide-and-seek,
and fairytales nurtured my very being...
Sadness drowning me into the depths of the ocean as the sun glistens above me. The white clouds peacefully floating in the air while the Blue Jays dance with them. Now I grasp pain and misery. If I could learn to fly I would never return here.
I don't write because my poems create
floral borders around my resumes and college applications
No,
I started writing after my third grade teacher persuaded me how
My writing was different from the other girls.
I've searched my life’s peaks and hearts disappointments for gold, for money, power, fame. Drained, I can only see myself, in you.
It's not for love. It's not for fame. I don't need the world to know my name.
It's not for peace. It's not for change. It's not to heal some deep inner pain.
Life can be good
Life can be bad
But the one thing you can do is keep your head up high
And your feet down low
Their will always be haters out there
Bullies don’t understand how I feel,
They do not try to comfort,
But instead, confidence they steal.
All bullying seems to do is distort.
My soul is burning,
I need to run.
To me it is concerning,
Poetry, the wonderful freedom, The anonymous friend that calms your flares. Poetry tends to ease my mind, Poetry is my vent for life. My anger now will be released, My stress will unwind on paper.
Father, don’t I look pretty?
My mouth is sore and my tongue is gone.
All I have is anger and love and I have smeared it on my lips and cheeks for you.
It was like a never ending feeling running through my vains that lead to my fingers, tips
I remember it like it was yesterday, yesterday five years ago
Could've been the amount of stress that was put on, me
If I could dream on the horizonit would be a forever sunset.Golden glows and a silver lining.
I’d get lost on that in between,the space where Earth meets sky,and maybe I'd lose my pining.
Drifting through the endless winds
Life seems nothing but empty words
I had hope to find something to keep me grounded to this reality
But it seems all that I found were more reasons to leave
There's a certain profound beauty
In watching words string together
In such elegance to eventually
Form such a sweet everything.
To find that I too could be the
Stringer of these words
As children we are taught to follow our dreams.</> What is not taught is how difficult that actually is.</> We all try hard, some go to the extremes</> Just to have it all shoved in our face while kicked to our knees.
A ticket and a dream was all that she could see,
An orphan, and hope for all that could be.
Not even a hop, skip, and a jump away.
To arrive on a plan was more than they could ask for,
In between the mingled breaths and the quiet pitter patter of rain,
When the night swallows the moon whole and the in-between collage of colors before day breaks the night,
I sit and I write.
When they ask why i write
how could i explain?
it's like asking why one cries when they are in pain
or why a bird responds to a bird call
I'm pretty sure y'all heard about newtons third law
words are,
softly spoken words of a new tomorrow
you wispered just a little
enough for me to want more
Screaming in my head
is just a quite gleam of hope
a tiny drop in the pool of dreams
Who would go out of their way to find me?
Who was looking for me this whole time?
You came back and finally found me again,
But where have you been this whole time?
What took you so long?
Travel
An old blind man
Traveled down a dusty, weary road
The brown dirt he kicked up, weak and pitiful,
We may not think that we are strong enough
Let someone try to tear down our identity, and that fire will burn up everything daring to block its path, let alone doubt its power
We may think we aren't smart enough
"Why I Write..."
Three simple words
forming one little question,
Why do I write?
Is it because I aspire
to be one of the poets that
participate in Poetry Slams?
I sit here thinking in the dark
About what had happened and what was the spark
You are my truest friend
And will always be till the very end
I write because it is an essential part of me. It’s my silver lining when the clouds lingering become too much. Writing gives off a sense of hope, comfort, criticism and encouragement. It’s my expressive outlet, as I’m sure it is for all writers.
I’d rather run out of my house with no destination in mind
than reading poems about the same old poetry
When every poet in the world
writes about the same black ink
that courses down the veins to the fingertips
It’s all bad
This moment,
This pain is far too familiar
This moment I usually consider a life lesson
I feel it’s less of a blessing
And more of a curse
But right now I could care less about
Asleep; I tremble and shakeWishing I were awakeAwake; I shake and trembleSeeing how my nightmare seems to resembleThis place as bleak as hellYet here I continue to dwellWaiting for the sweet breathThe sweet breath of Death So when my life does cea
Walking past me,
There he is with some of his friends
we make eye contact
then he looks forward pretending I don't exist
we have to keep it between us he says
ill say hi to you at school he says
Poetry. It's a beautiful thing. From occupying a few sentences
Providing an open canvas for wonderous thoughts, To
When it's cold in the night we shall fight for our rightWe want shame to be goneFrom the land of the lightThe queen of the night is afraid of our might She teaches us the Qur'an Indeed an evil sprite
You Walk Around With A Gun In Your Hand
So You Assume That Makes You Tha MAN?
You Disrespecting Your Mother So I Know You Respect No Other
But It's Respect That You Demand
Because You're "THE MAN"
That pen is a pick
A shovel
A trowel
Picking away at the dirt.
The dirt that covers
That tomb of emotions
Hidden away so long ago.
So long ago
Hidden away.
To clear my mind for the aura of a focussed being..
To put aside self inflicted insercurties brought on by societies images of perfection,
I didn't take writing into consideration for a while
It was a group of letters to me, nothing more, and nothing less
No emotion that positively strikes other souls around me
A bare rubber sole taps hastily agaiunst the linoleum tile, pencil erasers bounce continuously all the while. In accordance with a strict militant cadence, the test takers continually lose patience.
It’s so untouchable.
Something I could want so badly, if circumstances were different.
But even then, something I shouldn’t want.
Uncertainty grows around us as time whispers into our ears
And with age, we lose hope, year after year
Dreams are planted and watered for the young at heart
But time comes to play and tears these dreams apart.
Acid rain
Crawling through your twisted veins
Stealing the eyes that used to see
The other side.
Now I've tried
I've opened my mind
To an endless possibility
A pulling sensation draws me
to the world of words and sentences.
A cyclone inside me unleashes these words,
drawing, painting, imagining a faint picture.
I was little when I noticed...
Oh poems how I despise you. I hate when my teachers make me write you. I don't know what to do. You are like onions in my food. when I write you, you have no beat. You are worse than smelly feet.
The people stood in small groups.
All hte green grass had been trod down.
Mud crusted on their black shoes.
The sweat could be detected by untrained noses.
The beads on their foreheads ran to dry lips.
I remember it like it was yesterday when I was an uncontrollable teen. I was always skipping school, fighting, I was already angry but i didnt have a reason to. I have great parents who would give me the world if they could.
My vocabulary may not seem so big
But my mind is always wondering.
My skin isn't as bright as the one next to me
But my diction and tone is brighter then them.
Words are my escape. They are my thoughts expressed. They are how I understand myself. I write as an expression. The relief I feel is exquisite. When I write, I can make something beautiful. I can capture attention. I can captivate my readers.
I’m always confined
By others who live merrily outside my cage
I’m alone and in this constant bind
Nothing, but me, myself, I and a page
It’s as blank as my future with nothing to find
In and out, In and out
The line moves and sways
So much you could stand there for days
Atleast till the sun sheds it's rays
In and out, In and out
Grind and brew, grind and brew
To be successful is hard
Yet, to fail is a given.
It's ok to be '16 and pregnant'
That’s the world we live in.
I look up at the TV screens
And think they got it great.
Watch the news and here the bash
When I heard that you were sexually assaulted,
I mourned for your childhood.
And perhaps that was not the
best response.
Because you have not died.
You are still very much alive.
I guess I’m just sorry
You Great Dividing Line, you stand so strongBetween two priorities of my life:Do I up my GPA and succeed in academicsOr do I find myself in Christ?
I write to let go
I write to say no
I write to be heard
I write to hide behind written word.
I write for my freedom
I write for my soul
I write for my heart
I write for the polls.
I'm sitting alone with my thoughts
and everything I've ever done wrong.
The silence is burning.
It screams in my ears.
Life is overwhelming
but it's all we have here.
The world I live in is changing I can see that
It’s like we pulled terror right out of a hat
Our government is now more corrupt more than ever
Promising us that it’ll all get better and being all clever.
I am a writer.
A passion within,
Emotional release starts with paper and a pen.
My heart starts to flutter,
My knees are weak,
Just at the sight of a blank sheet.
How a spirit can feel
I write because I was born in a place like hell
Where, I dare tell
Abuse is what my mother chose
After the finishing the bottle the anger arose.
There were usually some scars and bruises
Words are spelled differently in languages I don't speak,
but they all mean the same when they're about you.
Words are just tiny black lines and curves,
but attached they become the things you used to say to me, too.
Poetry is the plug
to my outlet.
It completes my circuit.
Energy whirrs within me,
Waiting to have release.
Between us,
there is tension,
this spark.
Perfect white - clouds rolling like hills under
A sky pale blue like his eyes: sightless, remembering.
Staring through a glass oval, indented deep
Why do we write? To tell others of the sorrows we go through as people? To share with the world how high and mighty we show ourseleves to others but deep down we sore lower then the ground itself?
I search
somewhere
inside myself
and find myself
beyond myself.
Poetry, prose, paragraph, rhyme --
these structures may be used or transcended
to express my thoughts, dark or sublime,
It's been awhile since we talked,
It's just that talking has become hard,
Things have changed more than I thought.
I sat in a sea sadness
One that drove me to utter madness
But my friend my lover
The only being meant to discover
You were the words I thought couldn’t find
The art of writing should not be a question of why or why not, but of how.
But to answer the question, that is a very simple question with a lot of answers.
I write to dispel the dark storms that society has cursed me with.
He was born a mute,
Until the ink got a hold of him.
It stretched his tongue
and as he licked the back of his teeth,
He realized he had a voice.
He found confidence in the deep and in the bass,
I'm sad.
But I shouldn't be-
My life is
great.
But
I worry a lot-
about health,
money,
school,
and life.
Do I have goals?
Maybe.
Or I may just exist
Facing Life's problems through my paper and pen. Overcoming the obstacles that I produce from within. Once being a lonely soul, making friends with my words. Life's a journey; I'm on a quest to find my pot of gold.
My words flow on paper,the stress loses its leash.
Allowing me to be vulnerablewithout the lost of dignity.
The pen and the paperbecomes the doctor.
Childhood dreams from the soul
before p.t.s.d had swallowed me whole,
going to save the world from itself,
but now I can't even save me myself.
After 'he' had robbed me of my life,
Always walking down the dark path,
Familiarized with every detail.
Nothing new
Nothing old
Just the silent footsteps,
Of a broken soul.
No one hears her cries
A couple of smoothe dry pages moved by the soft hands that control ages,of thought and the process, protest of an incapable body,not yet devoloped but getting there,enveloped a sudden hidden share,of a mess.
Maybe you know or maybe you don’t,But you are the single most important person in my life,And I really appreciate you,Though sometimes I might not seem to show it, Know that I do.
Young girl
There’s something you need to know
Sit down, listen, take a break
I’m going to be real with you, not fake
Media tells you who are what to wear how to dress
I hate this feeling that I have right now,
but I know it all too well.
My legs feel almost numb
and my chest feels heavy,
but I don’t know which is harder:
inhaling or exhaling.
My body is reluctant
For only the rain shares my sorrow
with its ever tearstained days
And only does this willow tree
match my weeping ways.
Its limbs hang low
Time enchants her victim, begs me near to sharp being…Wraps round frail shoulders as she tickles porcelain cheek.
Unknown to many
words are words
with power
with ink
with pixels.
A single atom
makes our words
an interest
a connection
a meaning.
I write for the art
I long to fall in love with my life
I yearn to live beautifully,
Crave to paint my life with metaphor
And plant seeds of meaning and significance
In everything I do.
I dip my brush in a pool of bue
I looked up at the Aztec sun/ I knew the world had just begun/ The rain poured down/ Drowning out all sound/ Except the brain-dead taunts they threw/ I took them and I knew/ That there had to be more than this/ More than this Hell we call Earth/ S
Closed eyes, heavy sighs.
We are broken.
Desperate pleas, destroyed dreams
We are long gone.
A writer writes the words they writeforming each sentance with care
Some writers write into the nightwhile others simply stare
Some writers write with eloquencetheir words a masquerade
(poems go here) Family is family
You cant pick or choose them
Some may be loud obnoxious && rude
Some maybe sweet && kind or fine tuned
There not going anywhere
So get used to the crew
If writing gives me a voice, then I should seek someone to hear me. Though simply hearing will not do, it is listening that makes the difference.
There is a stranger looking at her in the mirror.
She stares back, dark, wet hair.
Her face- a mask of nothingness- but her eyes, filled with the deepest, contained sadness.
Face, red and stained black with mascara.
I write to feel
I write to know
I write to see
I write to know what I think and to see what I feel
I write to explain the world that I know.
I write to keep silence the thunder in my mind.
The words rush through me like a raging river
If anyone could stare into the depths of my soul they would quiver.
I write for the anguish I am feeling inside
Sometimes I don't even know if I'm alive.
Prop 8
You're so full of hate
You f*cked up a state
And forced us to wait
As bait for the courts
You seemed easy to kill
But not until bigots got their way
Trying to "Pray away the gay"
You ask why I write.
I ask why do you care?
It’s because words can affright,
and make people stare.
Words give me power,
and other people hope.
My voice bursts out of me at will
It knows neither manners nor volume
Like a siren, it echoes loud and shrill
It's the Joker in its costume
For my smaller voice is not meant to speak
The blood, the sweat, the cries,
The tears, deception and lies,
All for that one moment in the light,
That's why I do it, that's why it's done
Starting from the little balance beam,
Even though I'm not with you at
at the time of day,
I return when night falls comes around.
Even though I can not be heard
I can be
seen.
I keep all your secrets
as they should be.
Today,I am a poet.I can feel the wordsWelling up within me,LIke a smile I have not yet freed.
It all started
with Charlotte's Web
and, "Daddy, let me try!"
I traveled to Hogwarts,
and France,
and got lost at sea.
I was best friends with Huckleberry Finn,
It has bestowed upon me
The final year of my academic career in grade school
Through all the truimphs and failures that goes with each year
i' am the 12th Man
They say it's the gun that we should fear. But listen to this. This gun that I hold, listen to it, it cannot walk, talk, or feel. This gun cannot be held responsible for actions of a hurt heart.
My life has been fairly easy
Besides living with a mom who doesn't love me
Depending on Food Stamps for our next meal
Can't buy necessities without a good deal
My dad works all hours to make ends meet
Inside my soul it cries and wails,
I keep it trapped, for the key is mine.
Until the cage, from my own hands, at long last falls and fails.
Nobody can comprehend that museful flower,
Chain me up and my actions follow the pattern
Thinking freely becomes a problematic matter
Breaking free from labels becomes unease
Your self doubt is for the world to feed
Our thoughts is for us to own and probe
Stumbling through the darkness,
Lying through the false teeth,
Laughing and smiling happiness,
Feeling desolation beneath,
In my small garden,
I grow thousands of proses,
I love every kind.
Thorny, smooth, dark, bright,
Their messages glare clear strength,
Proses are roses.
Yet when the fire,
My mind is racing
My heart is pacing
Theres a tingling sensation in my fingertips
I Just Want To Be Happy!
NO!
It's right there within my reach
Please! Let me just grasp it
The last piece of my destroyed heart has finally fallen and shattered
BAM!
As I bend down to pick up the remaining pieces the knife of your words is jammed into my delicate spine
Words can mean happy
Words can mean sad
Words can be good
Words can be bad
A poem can be what you want it to be
A poem can be what others happen to see
Graduation in 8 weeks , because i didnt graduate in june
im not complaining , kinda anxious , gotta go back to school
eighteen , known to slack off but when i want it , ill go and get it
Coming up to bind
The troubles ahead will soon unwind.
Ahead I go without a trace,
Into the wilderness soon I will face.
This is my time
When life at its peak is sublime.
Here’s to another day where I am seen but invisible Where I cloak myself in the shadows like one of the Deathly Hallows Alone and miserable
Dreaming,
He came.
He had everything to give but his love.
He left.
Dreaming,
He came.
He had nothing to give but his love.
He stayed.
I write to show the world, there is hope for the youth,
I write to show the world that we don't speak lies, but the truth.
I write to be heard from people who do not want to hear,
That moment when you feel your life is in shambles.
No longer the elasticity left in you
to be the glue.
All that's left is to grab a hammer and join the crew.
Hack a way at the remains.
Flying among the stars
On a sliver stretch of moonlight
The words go past me
Flying of the page
I walk, I sit my, back against this grain
These words speaking bliss, penetrating every inkling of thought that is bound in my brain
As the climatical moment fills my soul, I come upon recollection
I have to put on this music before i fall apart
I have to let this melodic poetry transform my broken heart
As it flows through my brain and battles my fears
Then hits my heart like a drum and startles my tears
Welcome to the mind of the twisted minded
Depression took him over, now he is blinded
From what he can remember he was always depressed
The only pride he carried was the hair on his chest
I am the death in your eyes, the tension in your veins, the creator of your despise. I am why your blood rains. You are me and I am you. The thing that satisfies me the most; there is nothing you can do. No fight. No flight.
Segregation reformed by lips laced with loquacious words,
Promoting the definition of separated girls and segregated worlds.Diffusing through hierarchical halls, paneled with the predecessors of freedom;
June 26, 2013
A date that changed everyone's lives but mine
Because amongst this hurricane of excitement and acceptance
My ship is stuck in port.
My anchor weighs heavy with fear and denial
i sit there quiet as a mouse watching you scream back and forth. i sit there wanting you to stop wanting to say something to make it end. i sit there my stomach in my throat confused at why you are yelling.
Lies!
That's all I tell.
Maybe, I'll rot in hell.
Playing with your feelings
Making you fall deeper in love
With me.
If I just rolled over and died
I know you'd cry
It was about November when I
began my descent,
slowly, softly sinking.
That night it picked up like quick sand.
Clouded lungs to match my clouded mind.
Fists clenched tight,
As we complain about things being unfair,
there are families in the US without health care.
You may not have gotten what you wanted for your birthday,
there are people in Haiti trying to survive after an earthquake.
The sweet serene
a comfortable silence
I recognize
and think
of tomorrows and forevers
A loneliness welcomed
A hug for myself
A different time
would not be like so
One thousand
Ten hundereds
One hundred tens
One thousand ones
Four thousand quarters
Ten thousand dimes
Twenty thousand nickels
One hundred thousand pennies
That's a lot of pennies.
I close my eyes and breathe
as I try to remember
my likes, my loves,
my dislikes, my hates,
my hobbies, my work,
my friends, my enemies.
I have to remember
my character, my lines,
They aren’t living, they’re avoiding death
Life is shabby and death is graceful
They can’t see life as a death wish
A wish to be living at your death
When I die I’ll be falling
Love is Universal
Its ecceptance for the things
That make us diffrent
Not change who we are to suet others
But living so others see who we are
Its not use, bending out lights
The size of her heart
The length of her arms
The stride in her steps
Even when she's tired
No time for lack
The sweat on her forehead
The arch in her back
It's transforming into a hump
Time is traveling forward not back.
Forget your past and of your lack.
The dial be still yet the shadows are moving.
A window awaits you birds that slack.
I see my beauty in the reflection of the waterMove my hand through the murky liquid my appearance is altered I can be anyone I want to beIt’s so easy to change myself, my identity Most go to the salon, and pick a style from a bookWhereas I change
A seemingly prolonged drive
Delivers a miraculous surprise
That is hard to find during the scorching heat.
Refreshing air engulfs your body.
She stared in the mirror wanting moreMore of what she lostThe world was mocking herCracks formed on the glass of her skinShe ran from the image and fellBetrayed by her body holding her down
We always en up staring at the stars. Wondering if we're able to pull through. It's always that on emoment where time is endless, seeing all things we've done to get where we are today. And it's hard and scary.
I had a dream one night
That left my mind in a bit of fright.
It began in an inescapable prison
Where darkness drenched itself into my soul
Why do I write?Is it because the wordsstop at the tip of my tongue?Is it because when I try to speak,nothing but a croak emerges?
I will not hold back, even if it's the last thin i do, i will stick to my plans and keep moving on, for I am sweet and caring in the outside world, but I am strong-willed at heart.
(Fast sad lane of reality, other stories don't match with family, left lost on the streets with insanity, none realized the real, feel what empty stomachs got without a meal, split one time so he'll make at least a dime, bedless because of bed bug
Let mebury my face in your chest.Imprint my lips on this sculptured perfection.Let memelt your coreMake you human once more.
You're a rope dropping down from my sky;
The color of Extraordinary
I stare into your eyes,
As into a crystal ball,
But I can't find Forever
I can't believe anything in this uncertain world
That night I saw you illuminating in the night sky, I realize I was small,
that all the world's troubles and your own didn't matter at all,
at peace with yourself and the silence in night's air,
Why do I write?
I write because I’m a woman,
And believe in freedom of speech.
I write because to do nothing would not be worthy.
I write to make some mark of myself upon this earth.
Looking back you see it now, The truth comes out about it all, You're unsure of why or how, But they all strive to watch you fall. Why do we hate?
Time,
Everyone craves it, everyone demands it,
But there is so much time out there,
An hour you say? That's more than enough time,
Wait no give me five more minutes;
Suspended by your invisible locksRetrained from my own powerLosing my breath with every"Stop, I cannot, I cannot"But I cannot go awayChoking me with your invisible armsDrowning me with my own Niagra falls
Three barrels, two hearts, with one dream.
Turning on a dime will make them queen.
Choke up on the reins, get ready to go,
You’re running down the alley way wiggling your toes.
Check, set, pull him around
Words are windows
From the past to the present,
From the present to the future.
They separate
Those of yesterday from those of today,
Those of today from those of tomorrow,
More beautiful than a red roseBut equally beautiful to the midnight sky.She outshines the stars in every sky around the world.The Gods rejoice when she stands in their presence
The End
The rich colors;
A golden glow
of marigold,
a hint of deep red.
Falling down the sky,
for what is
the very last time.
She stared out in the morning
Thinking about her love:
On the other side of the world
Knowing it was night there
She wonders what he's doing;
How he can stand the sound,
The sound of bombs and the
I think.
Alot.
But who can listen?
Who has the time?
Who wants to?
It bothers me.
But poetry.
Always there.
Waiting.
On me.
Confessions.
Thoughts.
Stories.
Why is it that the one person you try so hard to care about
Can't seem to get the message through their head?
Are they blinded by emotion?
Does you even matter to them?
The earth shakes
The sky storms
The sun shines
The world turns
Birds chirp
Dogs bark
Cats purr
Wolves howl
Porsche writes
Porsche defines
Porsche expresses
You ask why I write.
So that I feel what was lost,
feel the pain once mine.
I feel nothing now,
no pain happiness nothing.
I feel not a thing
Why am I like this?
"Dance is the hidden language of the soul."
Quote by Martha Graham
Dance can change people.
Dance changed me.
It showed me how to express myself through movement.
It is entertainment.
It is a passion.
My name is Renee' Epps. I would be twenty-one if I had not killed myself. That's right, I am dead. You'd think after committing suicide people would change their actions toward me.
What does poetry mean to me?
It is written not by the pen but by the heart
Likewise, it is seen not with the eyes but with the heart.
I’m depressed
which is probably normal for a teenager suppressed from any social life
because I balance eight classes, seven school activities, eating, sleep, procrastination and more sleep.
It's not a burning sensation
More like a puffing
As though you wish to look down
See your eyes fall out of their sockets
Chaos reaking havoc in my brain
up is down and all confusion
feelings that i cant explain
Poetry is my escape my treasure
words exploding tumbling out
turning chaos into second nature
The morning sun kisses his cheek gently through the window blinds, and upon awaking he grins.
Grinning until he recollects what awaits him.
Begrudgingly he rolls out of bed.
Shower, dry, brush, dress, eat, leave.
They say that your life
is in your hands
and those hands
carry your future,
but in reality
that future
reflects your past
and in actuality,
that past reflects where you stand.
When he said, "Write me your story,"
That girl only took one piece of paper
But he
He made sure to add an 's' at the end of her paper
That girl wrote too much she stopped
When she ran out of lead
MasksThe click of her heels makes a rhythmic beat down the hallwayAnd I swear she’s writing a song.And the swish of her skirt, the saunter in her walk, holds a secret that is too big for my ears.
Over one hundred billion humans have inhabited this earth
Till the moment of their death and since the moment of their birth
Each of them working, to advance the human race
Poetry is like a diary that reflects you and your soul. The words that flow from your heart to fingers, slowly seems to find its way to paper.
Poetry is the long winter’s night
The powdery snow ever so white
Poetry is the glittering Christmas tree
And the time spent between you and me
Rushing down the black glass road
I knew she should have slowed
Zooming around the curve
She lost control
Hey little child, why so sad?Did someone make you feel bad?Picking on you because of your looksOr just because you’re better than them?
Every morning and night I chant for understanding and peace, to help my way along the path as a human being.
The beads flow though my fingers as all 108 repetitions of the mantra are cycled.
Out of the frying pan
Into the fire
Just your fellow man
Mislead by desire
I can do it, I know I can
Liar liar pants on fire
A homeschooled girl who skipped a grade,
Picked up a book she found that laid.
“Mommy! Mommy!” the young girl screamed,
And in her eyes you saw a gleam.
“Po-ee-try” the girl pronounced,
As the sphere of hours, glasses of sand,
I have plenty of time forever
More I sleep with my dreams of what
Henceforth has idled and ceased.
Stand couldn't the copious ladies
He told her they’ll be together in the future
he told her he loves her
he wants her
and that this will never end
You still can’t decide what it is that makes you
Feel this way. You sit in your room alone looking
For encouragement in all the places you know deep
Inside you won’t ever find them. You contemplate
2 a.m in a summer night im standing out side my backyard
its not cold its not hot ,the summer night skys cant be anymore clearer at this point
the smell of this darkets hour can do nothing more but enlighten me
I write to tell my story in the realest way
I write to get my education on some day
I write as a college sophomore with hopes and dreams no better than those who surround me
I write for the ability to see the world someday
It’s forever been a struggle to meet in the middle,
The waves want to overtake the sand,
But the sand wants to hold their own
Constantly battling to have control
If you asked me why I write,
I would say:
I write to live.
For writing allows me to
help,
understand,
communicate
.
Writing allows me to touch
the hearts of other.
A girl is walking on the shore.
The waves cuddle her toes,
the wind tickles her cheeks.
Like marriage,
the coastline nurtures her soul,
her existence.
Only death,
can break their bond.
<DanceStanding on your stage preparing for my life exposed turning, leaping stop can you see me, can you hear my hearts song?
If i could cry i would weep for all eternity. If i could scream i would, i can do neither so i mourn in the most awful silence imaginable.. The sadness and pain is bottled up inside and i ache to let out.
(poems go here)Since you were formed with your mothers promiscuity and your fathers control issues we knew you were going to be different. Knew the world might hold a grudge on you because of your broken down family tree.
I nonchalantly sat their alone while the night sky fell upon me, while rodents ran past my feet. The stench of overfilled trash dumpster and the worlds left over garbage of people sat near by.
Holding her hand like you’ll never let go
With trees and leaves and lilac scent
The sky with clouds you’ll never know
And rains you never knew you meant
My veins have capsized
drowing in their own fiery red
searing with the eternal implosion
called
impassive confusion.
The oven bells are ringing
calling the chickens home to roast.
When Love enters in do you notice the sound?
Is it a moment mundane or profound?
For one the moment came when a child,
through words that he found that ran deep and ran wild.
Get up, and start a new day. Same things I'm just doing it in different ways. Waiting and waiting for something good and new to come. I can't continue like this if I'm not getting anything done.
Why I write?
I write to free,
to make them all believe,
to really see
if it is or not meant to be.
They say the way I raise my palms towards the sky in prayer is savagely,
I think the ignorance and lack of understanding is cowardly.
They say the way I lay this scarf on the hairs of my very head is despicable,
Far in the distance
A war rages
Staining crimson upon the ground
Battle cries of victors and the fallen
With every slash and stab
A soldier thinks of his family
The ones he may never see again
We wish upon a shooting star, just to change who we are
Gaze among the stars so bright, just so we can see the light
Gather the pen and paper.
Reminisce for a bit.
Jot down what’s on your mind-
Write down everything you’d like to admit.
Father and Me
From the Forest of Bamboo, the paths
Lead to a small hut built for tea.
We are offered an unknown delight
A writer lives a thousand lives, and none,And though a life may be worth more than words,The words remain when every life is done.
Alone, with so many thoughts and desires.
Alone, no one shares these thoughts with me.
Alone, I didn't know if exaggerating the beauties in this world made me a liar.
Alone is what I though I'd always be.
All the words between the pages
claiming my humble heart,
meek mind,
tattered soul.
My heart, I think, is soon to be
influenced by
swift words,
crafted lines,
touching stories.
can’t you feel a story waiting to be told?
can’t you hear the impossible whisper?
can’t you imagine the grasses alive?
don't you see it?
I am the young girl who's boyfriend's condom popped
I am the girl who fell victim to the man who didn't heed her please stop
I am the boy who was forgotten in the shop
I am the boy who didn't see that stop
In 3rd grade I was given a pen and paper
told to fill it with something meaningful
something moving and life changing
as a youg child I could not think of such thing
Such a thing a poetry was another assignment
I just can’t do it.
I can’t stick to just one.
My tastes are like skittles,
Like markers,
Like crayons,
Like the whole color spectrum.
You somehow stick to pop.
Come live with me and be my girl,
Together we will spin and twirl.
Around the floor we shall go round,
I'll never let you hit the ground.
We shall dance atop the wooden floor,
I thought that I could trust you. With everything that I'm going through. Acting like you can't see. Acting like you want to be... Against me?
Dual: I am not one,
but I am two.
What does that mean?
and who are you?
My name is Amber,
a pure chroma color,
halfway between
yellow
and orange,
and red
I see my childhood and see nothing but a mystery.
A pile of poetry books,
A lonely flower growing wild in a solitary garden,
and no water- not anywhere.
Like a wave of relief, like music after perpetual silence,
My shattered remains
Are scattered among the skies
and I’m just laying here in some... restive peace
Just waiting for that spark to ignite.
Is this really what the meaning is?
The meaning of life?
I don’t know much about the world, economy, politics and what not
I didn’t know about slavery or racism at all for that matter
I didn’t know about Martin Luther King’s dream and how the conquest for Civil Rights
Far far away my dreams reside...They are my innermost desires that I can no longer hide...My dreams are crying out to me so my heart believes...My mind whispers, my spirit grieves...Far far away my dreams seem distant...They silently whimper, but
The new world is waiting for you, ready to light the way.
Sitting back and watching the cold, unforgiving past simply fade away.
New opportunities just waiting to be fullfilled.
The scent of rain on dry Earth.
Churning like seawater on a stormy day.
Rising from the ground like bluebonnets on a summer evening.
Petrichor is a delight.
Wafting about beneath soft grey skies.
Why I write poetry?
Why don't I write poetry?
Why miss out on an opportunity to vent?
Why not express the freedoms that I have?
Why let inhibitions keep me down?
Why keep emotions bottled up inside?
Poetry.
Seemed pointless to me.
Why not just say what you mean.
Instead of concealing your feelings behind
Riddles and rhymes.
It’s frustrating to understand.
Just tell me how you feel!
I write for power.
Power for she who will find the power in her heart.
I write for beauty.
Beauty for she who is beginning to see beauty in her mirror.
I write for hope.
When stress bothers where I lay,
a poem becomes the sweet lullaby that keeps it away.
When I am feeling something that is hard to express,
a poem helps me do my best.
When ideas are hard to put on paper,
Should I yell?
Should I shout?
Should I scream?
Should I cry out?
Then will you hear me?
But why can't you?
Then will you understand me?
But why won't you?
(poems go here)
See they messed up the truth
its more like "make up"
take "cover girl"
so you can face the
fact they dont want more women like esther or ruth
(poems go here)
See they messed up the truth
its more like "make up"
take "cover girl"
so you can face the
fact they dont want more women like esther or ruth
I let you go a little more each dayI guess it's better that way.Losing you all at once bewilders my soulRipping away a part from a whole.Hey, best friendThought I knew you so well
Eat my words
you beast of paper, clawing for truth and lies
Soak up my tears
and my smiles, my heartache
and my giggles
A half-formed poem
a finespun respite for
I step out of the plane
Baggage on my right hand
A bag of toys on the other.
One foot touches the concrete.
The hard surface onto the soft soles of my feet.
It is a dark world,
but I see hope.
Hope, frequently being riven apart
by the truth I was taught.
As if I was not punished enough.
Move along,
There's nothing left to see.
Just a couple more,
to take the edge off of what is haunting me.
You look at me,
Like you can save me,
But what you dont see
I just gave my valedictorian's speech.
I just heard my name called.
My friends, my family cheers wildly.
I shake the principal's hand.
I turn my tassel to the right.
I am officially a high school graduate.
I am complicated.
There is more to me than people realize.
I have feelings.
Do they know how much I care? Do they know how much it hurts?
I am angry.
Fuck everything and everyone.
I am happy.
working hard to reach my goals
dismissing all negativity
and buring my fear of failure
I ambitiiously strive to do my best
Praying that in the end that will be enough
I push myself eventhough its rough
None of us are what we seem to be; we have our scars.
We carry secrets, pain, baggage, feelings, and thoughts
That we keep hidden away from the unforgiving world.
Why I write
A question only few can answer
I write to be free
I write to express
I write to unleash
Not just words on a paper
But a story to be told
Why I write
Simply because I'm me
You told me you loved me
You told me you cared
You came in my life
And taired it in pairs
The bruises the confusion.
You tried to break me,
But you can't shake me
..Put your thoughts into perception they becomes inception, confusion injected into the minds of young youth thinking they're enforced to do the very thing that ruins society yet it all begins with You..as a person, a parent, caretaker, or indivi
Can you feel it? The rhythm inside –
My brainwaves take me for a ride.
It pulses through my thoughts and makes
Them twist until the thinking aches.
I never think of myself as a writer per se but as a young man, never really often expressing myself properly, I found writing to be a great way to communicate.
I would love to say I love you and love for you to say it back,
but I would hate to say I love you and have your feelings back track.
Feelings is just a state of mind and the heart has no limits,
A broken girl you see
with a flawed family
she hides up in a tree
playing hide and seek
too old now for the games
she is consumed by all the flames
the girl she wants to be
I I slam because I’m me
And I’m me therefore I slam
If you don’t get it I understand
I’ll try and explain it as best as I can
I’m not an artist
That is plain to see
If I’ve had a rough day
Show emotion? I can't
Deep within my heart,
Nice and tight,
My emotions sleep; inaccessible
I reach down
Try to bring them out.
Not far enough; buried too deep down.
Therefore, I write.
is not a deperesing one
like every body thinks
i think it is
but a colorful one
Life is amazing
no bounderies;
i live by none
no body to stop you
from living
or dying
The reason I try so strenuously
Is waiting at the end of this tunnel
Relief and Accomplishment is there.
To embrace me in their arms.
To take me to cloud nine.
To forever fill my heart with joy.
The joyful
The smile-fakers
The simple
The up to no good
The believers
The "special"
The "I'm fine"
The "I'm okay"
The brave
The strong
The saved
The depressed
As a watermelon
On the Earth
Rooted, not strong
Kissing burning dirt
While to me the tall tree beared no shade
Stood by me with no shame
Not one leaf above me
And that hunger for the weak
The way you carry on in life; its inspiring.
The way you smile through the hard times; its breath taking.
The way you rise above obstacles; its motivating.
The way you love us unconditionally; its amazing.
Telling your Brain not to Trust your Eyes
Broken by Silence, Screaming so Loud
Sounds of Fear, Touch of Pain
Lies, in the end a Glorious Death
Cutting of Flesh, Steal feels Divine
Relationships are hard, and relationships are tough.
They test you and wear you down,
and lately this patch has been rough.
(poems go here) Life’s bumpy roads and harsh realities
Are what brought me to the refuge of poetry.
A world where you have little money,
Where the lady on the news talks about a new murder every night
A light of chance with words you write it shows
Subtle hidden a closed gate yet now swing
Waiting without a mere thought to impose
Inked words never spoken somehow still sing
To express the entire entity of who I am I write.
I write for the fact that living in this world of a billion people
I stand alone with a voice stifled and unheard.
Step up, say your piece. Listen to my words. Hear me speak. Close your mouth and listen here. All these emotions I have bottled up, I've kept them to myself. I've shut up, but writing allows me to speak my mind.
We walked together once and she
told me how they just
watched from the windows
as the nearby mountains
burned. It started
Today I am feeling heartbeats in the earth beneath me, raising rubble with each thump. Pressing thumbs against against against the lips of liars only spreads suppression through their veins.
1. at the bus stop
with twisted tobacco at my feet
I watch as drivers pass,
chew gum,
with their radios low enough
to miss my ears.
when i was walking
with the ghosts, i got
frustrated, fire
eyed, depressed, because
they didn't
say shit. they
just gaped at me
and showered me in the
sights of the still-tender
one day, i'll make
a movie
out of you, and we
won't be the stars.
but that's why
people will love it.
this poem
is being written
as a 'free assignment.'
i can write
anything i want on this page
as long as i use the words
gruel, embezzle, and
innocuous at some point.
one more turn and it's
the Mission District. i'm taking pictures
of strangers.
these are my people, and
The look you give me brings out my fear
For if I show any I will tear
For the path I creep upon will distress my womb
Until the end I will not be
Because thanks to you I vanished
I always let myself down Always stop myself from getting what I want or what I need Maybe it's a lack of self-confidence There is always doubt in the back of my mind about what I am capable of Don’t know where it comes from, it’s been by my side
The Screams
The constant reminders of who society expects me to be
The dreaded tasks
Work, School, Death
Is there no in between?
Ahh but there is
That sweet sweet moment where you escape
Everything goes on, moving and flowing. Never stopping. I think and breath, so let me break free. I'll fall and stumble, and pick myself up. I will be fine. All will be well, so let me go, loosen the grip, let me breath.
Looking around this place, it is quite apparent to see
Nothing here is free for you and me
Whether it be by colonizers and systematically by each other
I just want to stop trying
I just want to stop time
Stay frozen in the moments that matter
Sharing laughs with my mother
Playing superhero with my father
Watching flicks with my sister
The houses of the holy made from rotting pine and ichor
the soft sinew of fallen things abounds
the stench of decomposing things could palpitate a figure
in miasmatic rapture from the grounds
Driving the car
got a text from a friends
asking "where you at"
I look down at my phone
the next the thing I knew
I hit a boy crossing the street
OH NO HE'S Dead
Now spending 50 years in jail
guess this is how you master dancing with the stars
a slew of ancient footprints in the sand
So pirouette upon the roofs of houses made of cards
sell scores of petrichor in little cans
In the dead of night, crickets play their song.
I lay on the cold dirt ground, while in your arms.
Look up, you say.
A diamond filled like sky.
I see a smile.
If today were the last day to live,
would you call your enemies and forgive?
or would you go to the shelter to give?
something simple can express so much
our hands together is a simple touch
If I went back to the start, that would be the end of me
See me I take her heart, but let her keep her dignity
Physical symmetry was what initially appealed to me
I sank into my chair as the man on t.v. spoke of a thunderstorm watch.
I wondered about the funeral.
I wondered if the people were running for cover,
or if they let the rain mix with their tears.
Like a bird in a cage
She longs to fly now
Like one chosen for the kill
She waits to die now
Blasted and cursed
For all that she's done
Imagined friends in false jubilee is all that she's won
Always that Lone Ranger
Running with the bulls
Every hour encountering trouble and undesirable stress.
With a pen and paper,
Life seems easier.
The thrilling Savior of humanity
That
Seconds, Minutes, Hours…Days,
Pass by.
Leaving memories and moments stranded,
Starving for closure that’s never received.
Beauty comes and goes,
What’s left is everything and nothing.
I write poems because somethings are better said in letters, words, thought-out sentences.
Where the reader is distilled, isolate, can not talk while reading, and can not refuse to understand my perspective or message.
Millions say writing is what saved them.
Writing is all that they have.
And I am one to stand up, and agree.
Writing saved me from the dark hole my mind was creating when I had depression.
I am a voice of the shadows,
Forgive my hushed tone,
Because I am unknown,
Unable to waste away
But I am a voice unheard
Day to day.
No one can hear me,
But I can hear everyone,
Oh so clearly.
It's plain here. Nothing but gray
You shine so bright, like you're on display.
Sparkle and gleam among the dull.
You stand out. You must be bold.
A piece of clay lies on the table
shapeless, but filled with info
with knowledge that is barely stable
ready, but nowhere to go
Some people experiences love
others can only see it and write about it
Love is scary
Love is so scary
At any given time your own lover can leave
you without your permission
The pen, oh the pen, you are mightier than the sword
Words, they say, can never hurt,
I don't think they've ever been betrayed.
Just a few words, just a couple sentences,
That's all it takes to ruin a life.
We allow these words to fly
So that we may feel free
Free from the thoughts that provoke pain
Free from anxiety and free from shame.
I write because I can
And without a fee,
For writing is so special
As it gives me glee.
I know I’m not great
But I’ll do my very best,
And when you see me coming
Don’t let it be like the rest.
Dreams to me are...
The world within a world,
Is a story that never gets old.
As time alternates inward and outward,
My third eye connects the invisible cord.
Thoughts begin to gather as a sea of buzzing flies,
I am Woman
I have no power
and I no longer believe that
I can make a difference
It is true that
I am silenced
And no more
I achieve
Freedom
I am Woman
You may believe everything is perfect
To me its just another smile to put on
One struggle to the next is happening fast
And it all started when I was eight.
Why do I find you striking?
Is it your beaded eyes similar to an owl?
Your wit and intelligence?
Or even your taste in fashion?
Unspoken words are very powerful words
Words that go without say
But hold strong meanings in the array of thoughts
These are my Unspoken Words
To you I may look like I got it all
Let's fall asleep,
Have wonderful dreams,
And never wake up.
Let's take a walk,
Have an adventure,
And never come back.
Let's cry a tear,
Have one sad day,
And never cry again.
Day goes by without knowledge of it
Day goes by just living it
Day goes by doing what we know and love
Day goes by doing what we can to stay who we are
I have thoughts that I often don speak
I just keep them all inside not wanting anyone to know the real me,
I write to express, to voice, to vent,
with emotions that cant be seen like i'm living life behind tint.
Life has become to stray
Wanting to go away forever and a day
On time for the first bus ride
Just because you are trying to hide
You left because your parents hate
Honestly they didn’t want you to become bait
This beast inside has been trying to get out for months now.
It has been trying to rip me apart just so it can cause damage to the world.
I write poems because it expresses me!
So I don't sit there and think of rhyming words
Because the words that comes from the inner in are the words that are Me!
Yea, you might think that isn't poem.
Lost! Alone! I wish I could die!
Scream the minds of the pawns with elongated chains
Attached to their wrists, ankles, and minds
Release us, we beg you! Oh please, release us!
Potato chips are really good,
Really good for me,
But not for the guy who makes them.
Working to satisfy my hunger,
Never give a thought to who eats them,
A hard job for him, an easy job for me.
Life experiences shaped me but ain't mold me
Till this day, I still remember what people told me
Told me I'd never be anything
I'd never rise
But now as I look, I see there's a part of me missing
What is race?
Does it tell us what to like?
Does it determine our future actions?
Or is it simply just something that pigeonholes us to carry the weight of the actions of our ancestors?
So who said little girls weren’t worth it? Who ever said there was no such thing as superheroes?
When thousands of thoughts go through my head
When the everyday pace ceases to end
I close my mouth and open my heart
I write out the panic and all of the pain
This domino effect brings rushed worries and thoughts
You ask me why I write?
I write because I am mortal
I write because time is mine enemy
you ask why I write?
my name may not be remembered
my words may not live on
yet I still write
I've been wanting to cry.
Wanting to let it all out.
but I need not punch and pout
Or to just scream and shout.
Inside I dive into a flow.
More gentle than a stream.
where my rhymes just row,
Poetry is the foundation of the universe.
It is the flow that moves rivers and streams along.
It is the ground that laughing children run and play upon.
It is the melody and harmony of the music that graces our ears.
I'm so lost with you
that I can do without you
One day I'll forget you
like I never even knew you
Go away, disappear
I'll no longer shed these tears
Approached Seventh to the eighth, may kids will turn to faith,
Fall school semester has begun, and there’s no where left to run
slammed into my seat for the summer is done, we whip out our pencils and there’s no more fun
Paint the sky black
because I'm never coming back
and I don't want to see you again
It was wrong
the things you said
are playing back inside my head
I can't forget
I can't let go
in this endless confusion of wonder
oh i wonder, i do wonder
where your heart beats
where this love meets
how can i believe
that we were meant to be
if you aren't even here with me?
left to wait
You're so sad, your tears illuminate a dreariness that words can't describe,
you're so angry, the wrath of your fury is something you can't hide.
Tell your haters
Thank you and your supporters
For being Mr. and Mrs. Literal
Takes courage to speak one's mind
Voices whether positive or negative
Celebrate, rejoice in your own vibes
The sweet melody rings in my ears
It touches my soul and it is
sweet like sugar and honey
It sends it golden notes
flying through the air.
It falls like rain
on my soul,
softly
falls
I think i was eight when i started to appreciate
a new world that had monsters, and dragons, and dungeons.
It was colorful when i felt colorless
insightful when i felt blind
there when i wasn't
When thoughts weren't enough,
I turned to you.
When no one would listen,
I turned to you.
When no one understood,
what my heart has been through
I'd open this book,
and I'd write to you.
I wrote, to make them happy I wrote, as recompense for being born
When life seems to be passing by
I new I couldn't let my memories fly
The beautiful sparkling water, the green trees, the views
The pains in this life, the trials, the hard times, the times of pure determination
Eighteen years, wow, it's almost here
The moment we have looked forward to all our lives
So close that we can reach it with the tips of our fingers
Apprehensive, yet excited, we're starting our lives soon
I recall being in grade school
sitting at my desk
while my teacher read these words to me, they were cool
flowing and piecing together so well, certainly not a mess
I write to express
when theres no one left to understand, I write to those that are in the same postion as me
wondering if anyone else could feel their pain, and understand their shame.
As a dancer, my dance teacher created this motto of some sorts
On the back of our dance t-shirts it read
"Why do I dance? Why do you breath?"
I write about the moments in life
That are too complex for the spoken word,
And I write to dissect every problem
That I can't bear to inflict upon a friend.
I write to express the misunderstood beauty
He writes, because sometimes...his pen and his piece of paper,
are the only things he can heal through his words
After advice from everyone else's life has left his lips...last pennies given to the poor
I write because the only letters written by them
written on my own skin
Every scar a lesson I taught myself
not wanting to depend upon anything else
My spoken words never coming out as I thought
Why is this even a question?
Are you a boy?
Are you a girl?
Gay, straight, bi, transgender?
Does it truly matter?
I walk down the street
With pain tearing my heart.
It feels like I have a hole, pierced by a dart.
It starts to rain.
I write to express the things I will never say. My thoughts of grief and joy. I write those feelings that others are wont to deny. I write when I feel broken, broken to where I am not certain of who I am.
My actions…
Draw me judgment from those I love and those I don’t
Can’t always match the true feeling of my heart
Are limited by my physical body
I need your love.
Why don’t you love me?
Is it because I’m hateful?
I need your love.
Why don’t you love me?
Is it because I’m fat?
Am I gay? Homosexually or Happily which one?
Answer the question
Help me see what you see
I feel like i have a choice here
A choice so strong others may have to see it for me
These hands of mine
Carry the burden given by us all
The labor of surviving in the wild concrete jungle
Demonstrates itself in the form of sweat trickling
Pores widening, opening itself up to the world
Swelling and beating when I think of you
It's as if I envision you here fingers tangled and all
My heart selfishly desires to be melted with yours
Past heartaches never mend and for a boy his heart never bends
Onion Peeling
As I write poems,
me myself is being peeled.
One poem by one,
I find my true voice.
Going deeper and deeper,
I find my identity.
Like onion being peeled,
I dive into my world.
Clock
As the tail drops,
I listen quietly yet sadly.
How well it flows.
What makes the time go?
The sound of footsteps
tells me people are coming.
What does time hint?
What is it that comes?
There was a guy once.
I thought I was in love with him.
And when he surprised me with a breakup text,
And my friends didn’t care to ask me about my feelings,
I decided to write.
There will be a day when you ignore someone you loved dearly.
There will be a day when you will never see who use to be your best friend.
There will be a day when you smile along with your worst enemies.
There will be a day when you ignore someone you loved dearly.
There will be a day when you will never see who use to be your best friend.
There will be a day when you smile along with your worst enemies.
In this life we are all led by love; love from your parents and from their parents above. In this life we are all given some type of chance to revel in pomp or overcome circumstance. But in this life I do declare, many things are simply unfair.
The many drops of rain
Each splash forms a tiny circle
Call that the spiral of human livelihood
It expands so vastly with extreme celerity
It's as if it expanded to the point
One slip up on the mic
And now your a clown
A target for mockery and a face bright with shame
Your career is a trap
Every word criticized with the utmost ignorance
waiting to be ended in a wrap
The Sound of Thunder cracks
On the back of her chest
This ex-con yelled louder mightier
Than any Lion could roar
Yet when all is said and done,
done and said, she still is the same
Some days,
there's a hole within:
a gaping mouth,
a wailing baby,
an empty gnawing hole.
Its crying maw draws me in,
want to hold it,
want to forget,
want to feel the rain
Abnormal, poor, weird words I hear daily
Growing up poor wasn’t a choice; wishing it was a choice
Each day I struggle looking over my should, hearing them laugh,
Avoiding the landlord, rents overdue.
Once upon a time
there lived a boy
Raised in neutral conditions
Had a favorite toy
Didn’t have a lot of thing
That he could enjoy
Always been creative
And would never destroy
He grew up
My mind is broken full of tears a never ending storm of stress and anger. My brain a continuous rain cloud My mental and emotional state is shattered beyond repair.
Nevertheless the sweat drip drip dripping
From the anaerobic exercise
Of running while holding the sparkling
Red in your gut
Serial killers relentless as they appear
But hide between their crotch
I used to pray for times like this
graduation day upon us
the people we used to diss we miss
the people that were a little different
the ones who were a little less significant
we wanna be there but we cant
What is this thing, that we call Love?
An undying smile,
Of enternal youth?
An endless spring.
Never to be knew,
Never to be found.
For when the world realizes,
This simple truth.
At a young age words were power to me.
Even if I never understood the meaning,
the bigger the words the better they sounded.
Focusing all that I was, am, and will be into each dynamic phrase.
Unrelenting tears of muscle
That reshape itself and this is
labeled as getting in shape
To endure such tears you need
hustle
Hustle to finish what you have started
Pause
Now go back to living
Like my dad did on rice and grits
Lost many and gained few to none new buddies
I don't call them friends
Trust and depend on them first
To rip apart my back and front
PAIN IS
A stab in the back
Is Worse than being stabbed in the front
Why?
It is similar to being blindly robbed by friends
Accepting it without leashing white fury
Life is dictated in Time's court
So fuck around all you want
Time will come and strip your selfishly selfless conceited joys
Gavel slammed to a sentence of eternal damnation
You to an eternity of never ending
So, we can live deliberately can't we?
Finding our missing piece
Missing piece of love and hope
Hidden within the deep well of a heart
Desolated once our purpose is completed
Hear and animate the next line
Breathing like each breath may be the last one
Sensational beats within that body Til...Dead
God blew breath into us
Gave two legs
Two ears, Two eyes, and Two arms
Zero worries about my fate for it is predestined
It does not mean it is alright to sit and wait for presents
Rather wasting time is wasting potential and life is thus compressed
I write to clear my head.
I write to clear the air.
I write so I can know what happened even if I wasn't there.
I write in the morning and sometimes when I eat.
Why do I write?
Seems a silly question.
I write because I read.
Nobody knows the beauty
Of a blank page,
Where anything can happen.
Someone can be anyone.
Teen girls solve mysteries,
Following my footsteps down this dirty road again
Full of broken dreams and memories
I can't let this happen again
I will be strong, I will fight
I won't let you win again, tonight
I am so young but yet I feel so old
The sun sits high but yet I feel so cold
Sometime I question the route I chose
I question what it is that I behold
I wonder how things would unfold
Plagued with infidelity
She fornicates in rhythms and melody
Driven by jealousy
In search of intimacy so she lies next to him
She says it isn’t love but she says it wasn’t lust
Words, they have many powers,
We ignore their strength.
They keep us safe in our towers,
But yet, they can destroy as well.
All in the verbiage of those that use them
For good or ill we see their consequences.
Poetry is like a window
Where nothing is hidden
The transparency of it all
Makes you go the far distance
To show your true emotion
Feels like your floating in an ocean
The ease of your mind
Wish it was possible to be Frankenstein
Except I wouldn't go around digging for limbs.
Instead I’ll take a couple traits, piece em together to make my him.
I’d take his intellect and smile. Even his soft spoken ways
Mind, heart, pen and pad are the main ingredients.
Easiest way to fight off my silent demons.
My fave way to organize whatever I'm scheming.
Being different is scary.
when you don't act like every one else,
people judge you.
but today I say I am proud of being different!
I don't care if people call me names,
i know my true friend love me for me.
Never get lost in the maze of making others happy,
you may lose your own happiness in the process.
No need to look, search, or wander,
simply glance in the mirror, and look within yourself.
Poor girl, I see how you hurt.
Set against you is your own life,
Gives you so much struggle and strife.
You're pushed facedown into the dirt.
The future is so uncertain
Although there are days that it’s all I think about.
Where will I be?
What will I be doing?
& more importantly who will be there?
It’s crazy…
My closest friends are not my best friends or just my friends...
my closest friends are not like me, but different intheir own ways...
Their differences are what make them my friends...
Poetry translates the words in my heart,
feelings I hold inside longing to come out,
I write because it is my way to fight,
these words are the pits into my deepest feelings,
an escape from this world,
Reaching out to others in need,
Eager to honor, serve, and keep
Secrets of others, either family or friend,
Privacy regarded, helping hands to extend.
Etiquette minded, impeccable manners,
Gliding along the wooden planks
As coals of emerald
Kindled his face
I caught a glimpse of a transfiguration.
Soft winds swept up my cotton skirt
Past polished shoes and mounds of earth.
Write me the reason why I write when this felt tip pen touches the paper back when in six grade when was not able to speak how I truly fell about your smile. All the emotions on paper in red and pink ink.
No one can know about this secret.
This grotesque secret.
It's become a hobby.
Something done daily.
Something that is yearned.
Something that can become addictive.
Writing is my art, it is the way I sing
when my pen moves, I spread my wings
flying high above the Earth, the written word has me lifted
my writing is magical;I feel truly gifted
Relationships are like glass,
fragile and always threatening to break.
Relationships are like a bloody warzone,
you rarely ever escape unscathed.
Relationships are like rocks,
tippity tap
clickity clack
fingers fly over the keys
the pen brushes the page
flowing boxy words form
words that pour from the soul
words that march from the heart
My dreams and failures
Each sunrise highlights this ongoing battle of relapse and recovery
In a world overruled by a constant roar of gunshots outside your window,
It's hard to not check under your bed every night for monsters
I’m freeing the mind of a unspoken truth.
Hands made free to move
Eye’s not restricted to the structure of grammar
Error is excepted and no longer matter
Speaking words that were restrained from plot of speech
I opened my
eyes
To see a world unknown.
Colors dancing
Ideas Singing
Blowing my mind to bits.
I look at the new world
This world where I am
Free
To be
Me.
To imagine
I went to a dance one night on the Queen Mary in May
where the ocean kissed the ship
the same way the guests tip toed on deck
that was adorned with pearl necklaces of lights
She’s broken.
Broken into so many pieces from everything she has ever been through.
Her heart cries out for a helping hand, but the tears just continue to flow like a waterfall.
She’s terrified.
First glance
of eyes
opening,
Learned life
while running,
Sorrow
through the
times hoping,
Eyes closing
soft and slowly
Behind her smile, there’s a child with enormous dreams and improbable chances of reaching them.
Behind her smile, is a mother that struggles to make ends meet every month.
If only you would let me love you the way that you need to be loved,
You would see that I can fill your heart with the passion and tenderness
that has been so brutally deprived from you soul.
To be heard when I can't speak.
To tie words with rhythm.
To not have to make sense to anyone but myself.
This is why I write.
To influence others.
To give glory to God.
I write to express
To give birth to fantasies
To show the real me
My secretes only paper can see
Keep the pain away, Keep my mind sane
I write
I'm busy.
But the words are begging to be free.
I'm tired,
But the emotions won't leave me.
I know
I must give vent somehow.
I sit.
The writing begins, now.
We stumbled into love in September
So, we belong to autumn
Therefore our hearts must fall.
And after months of sun kissing those summer rays become colder
Nights are stretching
Fear creeps into my sheets,
The immature habits make a grown girl cry,
Half a smile covering a shameful lie,
Eager deception like those of the black pearl curse,
Build a wall around yourself. Barricaded like the ancient cities of Rome. Walking through the halls quietly with these words spinning through your head. Knitting a scarf so intricately bound expressing the sorrow of that day.
Some people buy those books,
That are found at those stores.
The books are hidden in nooks,
And in cracks in the floors.
Walking down the aisle of a store.
She is pushing the cart.
And receives crude looks.
Stares that make people think they’re better.
They aren’t.
I am poetry, poetry is me.
My life is a poem, written in reality.
My emotions are the topic, my struggle is the comma.
They claimed they saw the small thing with four legs,
Like plant, it absorbs from its environment,
It fell and wondered as its stares at tree of life,
At age seven the boy's heart beats, at age twenty his heart bleeds. Died in peril, not in vein, the young man's heart feels no pain.
Everyone I know can vouch that I have a mutant’s mind.
Conversations end in judgmental gazes,
Soaked in awkward silences,
My cranium throbs,
Searching for things that I never had
Guess my life really aint that bad
If I get lost inside my head
Numb this brain and leave me dead
We'll go outside and have some fun
Lay in the sun and make some love
Hello, goodbye
My, time sure will fly
Many people come, many people go
Either in large, wide groups or on on their own, solo
Feeling very ecstatic, feeling unfortunate and sad
I am from gravel,
From chrysanthemums an lilacs
I am from the smell of gasoline and the taste of blood
From the water faucet hiding behind the fence
I am from the mossy, jagged rocks
Engulfed by woods
Why do I write?
I write so that our thoughts will then become a voice,
A voice of power, reason, and of meaning,
A means of expression that allows me to rid of my feelings,
I wish I could tell you exactly how I feel, but not even the Stars can explain what are hidden deep within these veins. Why do you not see? What you mean to me. I dare to sin all because of you. I smile all because of you.
I wish I could tell you exactly how I feel, but not even the Stars can explain what are hidden deep within these veins. Why do you not see? What you mean to me. I dare to sin all because of you. I smile all because of you.
I fast from everything save you. You are the morsel I am given daily and am grateful for. I draw you into my mouth like a small fish and you take my tongue, the bait I have laid for you.
Day by day, my love seems to inflate
You’re the brightest star under my sunlight.
I’m convinced you lingered to me by fate
Like late night stars, your presence shines so bright.
The tick of the grandfather clock is absent.
No clicking, no sirens alerting those nearby, nothing.
Time has stopped, life ceases to continue.
Suddenly
My tongue is in knots
My heart isn’t beating, my blood was in clots
My mind was a treasure, not laden in thoughts
But I’m lost with no map and I can’t connect the dots
And I’m struggling
Ive found my world and theres only you in it
fell in love in just 1 minute
always and 4ever ill b true
because whats u without me?
whats me without u?
Poesía eres tú y yo.
Poesía es la luz como la oscura.
La risa vivida hasta la muerte sufrida.
Poesía nos conecta a los dos.
Esto no es poesía,
es solo un simple gesto sin gesto,
o tal ves,
Late in the evening when the Magnolia tree stops blowing;
The smell of sweat and hate emerges;
Sounds of incoherent flour men singing the day's events.
They never saw it coming,
there was just the quiet before the storm.
A call was made to their home,
their mother answered the phone.
Then the emotional storm started.
(I MAY SMILE AND LAUGH IN THE INSIDE
BUT IN REALITY IM BROKEN IN THE INSIDE
LOOKING FOR A CHANCE OF DAYLIGHT IN LIFE
AND TRYING TO HAVE A BETTER LIFE HOW I PROMISED TO FAMILY.
(every word that runs through my brain.
but will never show for myself for my action for every word.
but every moment i take is for you my love.
ur the motivation and sigh and emotion i can take out in a piece of paper.
Fond I am of restful thought during the wee hours of dark nights.
Closing lids of flesh to bring visions in to sights.
To no avail remaining sightless of vivid delights in mind.
The glass between us is deep
A clear light into my life
You could see in and she could see out
Still no sound was exchanged
Words stayed on tongues
Eyes tried to glimpse but never cough the others
Writing is my getaway,
Whenever I have a bad day.
Pen to page all day long,
To bleed it out and make me strong.
Rising to the top.
Just keep going; never stop.
Excited, sad,
Happy, mad;
Hand.
Hands touching.
Oh, how I long for his touch.
To feel the warmth of his body,
as he caresses me.
Soft, gentle, kind.
Begging for your lips upon mine.
Fluid motion, perfect rhythm.
Pitter-patter, pitter-patter,
In my heart, it is a simple matter.
Or soul, the brain, the mind;
Whichever you believe does the chatter.
We paint it in red, purple, white,
Some even coat it in blue
Poetry defines what I am
It allows me forms of expression
Poetry is what I am
It is my personal show of emotion
Wrenched from the insides, pulled without
any meaning, just words then. Anyone can
have ‘just words.’ Dug out from silent, sad shells
and exposed to worldly light, see the beauty
The rush that i feel
when i suit my pads up
its better than any pill
better than any drug
my helmet goes on
my chinstrap gets strapped
my mind is gone
i think its taking a nap
Without you I’m like a bird without wings
Grass that’s not green
Trees naked, no leaves.
Without you I'm like a song without depth
Cheesy lines not in cards
The sky with no stars
Cut me open
Lay me bare
My beating heart I give to you
Beneath these lights
On this stage
I flay myself before you
Nothing is held back
Nothing will be left
In this small time
My want to be a hero drove me to this art form called poetry
An infestation of ungifted lyricist has has seeped into hip-hop and they are growing uncontrollably
If you were to ask me how I was introduced to poetry, I couldn’t tell you…
It was as if it’s always been there to cure my needs, like the colors of an oak tree, or the majesty of an evening sunset.
Most say it is just words.
Others say it's just for fun.
Some just hear roars
That leave it undone...
Tell me what to do
Tell me what to say
Shut my lips with glue
Ignore me everyday
Never able to act
Always hiding
Lying to hide the fact
That I feel unsatisfying
I do not speak, 'cus my words go unheard,
I do not move, 'cus my actions go unseen.
I do not cry, 'cus my tears show weakness.
I do not laugh, 'cus my smile is stagnant.
But I write.
A picture is worth a thousand words,
Yet to craft your speech is a revered skill,
I can go out now and capture birds,
In a picture atop some hill,
But to express what weighs down my mind,
It smells like death, if death had a smell
She felt a soft breeze while tears streamed down her face.
She stood there not knowing how to feel,
Not knowing what to say.
What she did feel was lost, empty, numb
Written Memories Of The Soul
This is just my point of view
It might be a different definition for you
But my eyes see what they see
So I'll Tell You What Poetry Is
To Me
When the sky is blue or gloomy or see through
I see through to the truth and the moon when I zoom
Eyes big like an owl as I'm prowling about
With my pen in my hand I am never without
They asked, "Will, why do you write?"
-Because of my struggle, because of my fight
and the yelling/screaming I hear at night
for the same Micheal Jordan took flight
same as the theory why the sun is so bright
Life is about power.
The ebb and the flow,
those that come and those who go,
We all have power inside, but never enough
to feel happy when we go to sleep at night.
It's too hot,
It's too cold,
I'm tired,
I don't want to go.
All excuses
to escape and hide
from your fears and failures
but what is really the thing
poems help release the stress
the pain
the hurt and lonleyness
it keeps me happy and sane
thank you writing my stories and poems
filling books and pages
with heart felt word I need to get out
(poems go here) Living, breathing
Seeking, seeing
I am I no matter what the case
Poetry has always been my face
No matter what your race
You can express yourself through a poem
(poems go here) My pen sculpts a future
Potential to work and to enjoy with one job
My pen sculpts a dream
Hope of proving my father wrong that writing is dead
I always saw the good in good bye
Because I hated saying hello
I knew that people’s duty in life was just to come and go.
I write so I won't forget about you ,
I write when there's nothing else to do ,
the paper doesn't judge me or look at me strange when I'm myself.
I write to be heard and listened to ,
Love;
verb~passionately caring,
intensely tearing
hearts out of chests,
putting them back together
giving minds some rest.
quickly pairing
couples bearing
troubles from their lives.
(poems go here) I wish to be a poet
Written songs on a note
My inner thoughts
Of how I fought
To right the wrong
In a sweet song
Rhyming and timing
In tune with
The moon
I see the Eleanor Rigbys and Gilbert Grapes everywhere I go,
The people who forgot long ago to
See beauty in people laughing, sunflowers shooting up
Out of the ground.
There are people who have never heard a canary
I saw him once in my entire life,
I was nine,
I still remember how he looked like,
Nothing like how I imagined,
Wearing an old navy blue cap,
The smell of dirt and oil rubbed off him,
To give in within
the social norms
and forget how we were before
would be asking the impossible,
creating the identity, masked
hide the dignity,
and forget the past.
To the untrained eye
I am flat
static
innocent
simple.
For the naïve
I have nothing to give or teach or say
because they see nothing
and know not what to look for.
If you saw the me I am
Instead of the me I wear
You wouldn’t believe me
If you saw the brokenness and tears
Instead of the smiles and joy
You wouldn’t like me
I write for no other reason than I hate
that blinking line
with its taunting
Disappearance
And
reappearance
Its ability
To Be
And
Not to be
And then be again.
Not gonna write you a love song
I'd rather write you poetry
Put thoughts to paper and call it a symphony
Let me words travel along the page
And proclaim you as my melody
Beautifully sculpted and crafted
My voice is heard
I don't even have to say anything and my voice is heard
It is why I write
Every opinion
Every position
Every cause
Every concern
Every prayer
It can be expressed here
I didn't start on a stage.
And i never could have guessed id be into poetry at a young age.
I grew up with finger painting kids, The delinquents who chose popularity over education and the bully's.
Poetry.
It’s one word that can say many things.
It can express someone’s feelings. It can show someone’s pain.
When it comes to poetry, anything can be said.
I write to be free, to express my pain
I write to tell thoughts that drive me insane
I write with joy, love, and care
To describe what is fair and unfair
To tell my tale of who I am
They say the eyes are a window to the soul.
The painter’s creation is a reflection of the heart.
Well my words are the expressions of my mind.
When my nights would be so cold and my
temper so hot.
I scold you knowing the truth
So this is one big escapade ?
Nights of in depth talks
Were those antics ?
Three hundred sixty five days of anxiety to be closer
Nothing but complete buffoonery, right ?
My Brain, I want to shoot it.
My heart, I want to cut it.
For my feelings I don't want to feel one bit.
When these two things fight it out, it's hard to hear which one is screaming out loud.
(poems go here)
The biggest mystery of my whole life?
Knowing the one who was responsible for creating me.
You see, I'm a wreck.
GIVE ME A BREAK!
I’m kinda new to this,
But I see how great your love truly is.
I also see a crazy mess,
And it’s bringing me distress.
Kindness obsolete;
And sometimes kept descrete,
I write because life is hard
It’s like a deck of cards
There’s no control of the hand you get
You just have to play and place your bet
If luck is good and your faith is high
I write because I feel like a half eaten cake
That has made it’s way into the garbage
A cake muddled with dirt and soaked
In Sunday night’s leftover bacon grease
A cake nostalgic about the pink frosted letters,
