2013 poetry slam

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When I was small, so was she. My hands deep in sand, She'd be on the grass with a teddy     Snoring softly. When dragons raged and damsels danced To find space in my mind, worry wouldn't have chanced.
Here's our school spirit Yeah, you gotta hear it echoing through the halls. Dead silence because filth and violence are the main events this fall   We represent our lovely school
their hands are the beginning, the hands toil, they work, they sacrifice and so industry grows, and the mouth of greed opens a hungry mouth roars a hungry mouth devours
I walk the halls, getting one last look at the walls. They've never looked so pretty, as I imbed them into memory.   I can still hear the screams, and see the lights beam, as I stand alone,
I sit in my class surrounded by numbers Waiting for an explanation, but still ending with wonders How does this work, and what to do next Why does math have to be so complex?
    I’m in your class everyday  But you don’t know me Despite what you say No grade can tell you who I am I’m not one of your pets who will sit and cram  
Sometimes life is tough, and in my parks you have to be rough, wondering how you are going to get by, yelling and screaming telling lies, but you dont know me, in my head i wanted to grow up and flee,
You taught me how to count and you taight me how to read. Your words were the soil, my mind was the seed. From pre-school to senior year, you were always around. You planted me firmly into my educational grounds.
Not selling crack, but I deal.   No feeling ever again will feel so real. Keep searching for it, but in vain, tryna get the same high as the first time.  
  One day you told me, that I was the moon and you were the tide. That I pulled you to me. That you needed me.  That together, we were something beautiful.
I watch all the blood ooze into deranged shapes, like tea leaves that read better. It is my blood and salty sadness that mix and sour together; I forget to even mop it up. Maybe let it go rancid in the bucket.
In early morning, late at night,  In the car On the road Reading papers, lighting matches It hits like cold air to the back of 
There is one picture of me at my graduation. The sun was in my eyes, but I forced myself not to blink. I nearly rolled my ankle trying not to trip on the fake grass.   The red robes were first in line,
A lot of people ask for they don’t know and so it's questioned.Out of all the types of literature this one is most mentioned.
I love poetry I despise poets The pseudo-intellectuals that force rhymes They read Dr. Seuss and perhaps Oscar Wilde They act like experts wearing pea coats drinking espresso at Starbucks
I write to release emotions. To you and everyone else I can't say them to. I write to clear my mind of the hurt and pain. The anger I have. I learn to not hold a grudge.
Thoughts impede Words rattle around a filled chasm No thoughts end, they continue to connect Ink to paper, words on screen Thoughtful bloodletting.
Once I wondered why I have been chosen to be me But, then I looked up in the sky And I could finally see.
You bring the words out of me sucking letter shapes out the end of my pen or scratched out of sharpened pencils on sheets of loose paper fingers tingling to slash my thoughts permanently
Once upon a time, a brave lost sailor washed up on my shore. The ocean spat him out, leaving him worn and tired. I took him into my home. He was the only true man I’ve seen in centuries.
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