Misshapen I, assume this Harmful Trot
Another Term to disappoint your Name
This I Bow; Multiply my Penance lot
Never again will I repeat this Shame
For Honest Will, assist your Son's Best Worth
Though I know spouting Flames is not the Way
Purse this Regret; And shake the Stubborn Earth
Then leave this Barker alone for him to stay
Yet hopefully, in Prayer bid my Tears
You may Consider my Innocent Plan
To Heal, Flow and Live; Like your Boy's Best Years
To prove Un-Condition by your demand.
I Understand, your Investment withdrawn
But Faith in Mother's Heart is best to own.

When I look back,
I remember Montpelier is where I started.
Things were simpler, the days were easier, and everything was brighter.
It’s amazing how much has changed since then.

Back then I didn’t worry about school.
Education was free, I loved learning, and recess was invigorating.
But now, school has conquered my mind with questions like:
Can I pay next year?
What about loans?
Can I keep my scholarship?
Will I have to drop out?

The struggle is alive people, and if you don’t realize it will eat you alive.

Over the years, friends have decreased, family members deceased…
Days have grown longer, and the years have become harder.
My chromatic days filled with vibrant colors have faded away…
The lively colors of my youth have faded away to black, white, and somber greys.
Black carries the bad times, the uncertainty, the doubt.
These times are constant…
White carries the pockets of sunshine within your life…
The good days, when everything is going right, or when a certain special person steps in your life.
And, the grey carries those days where you just don’t know…
Those days where you are stuck in the mundane cycle, constantly trying to find your drive.

I just wonder, where did those vibrant days go?
Because most days I am stuck in the greys…
And, simply, I just do not where did Montpelier go?

- j.m.

I was only eighteen when you gave me my first kiss.
I was so nervous I nearly missed.
I was smiling so much you kissed my teeth.
You said after just one month “I love you” and my heart dropped.
I said “I love you too”, but I knew I couldn’t love you that soon.
It was the perfect summer love,
a summer haze.
I was half innocent
and half negligent.
You, were infatuated.
Then one day you moved away and we agreed our love would remain.
I missed you dearly.
It hurt not to have you near me.
I couldn’t take it anymore and I said “baby here I come!”
You said “Shit, here she comes”
What happened?.
You showed your true colors.
Suddenly your words fluttered.
I then knew your feelings had changed.
I thought for while.
You thought for a while.
I knew you were to weak to do it so I did it for you.
I told you “I guess its over, congratulations your the first person to break my heart”.
I had saved my first kiss,
To have it end like this?.
At the moment I was in shock and wasn’t sad at all.
The next day was hell my heart still had your spell.
I wanted to take my heart
out so I wouldn’t feel anymore.
The pain was unbearable.
I would've loved you forever.
Now its been four years and my heart belongs to another,
now my heart flutters.
It’s funny how one nail takes out another.
I saw you once more and my heart felt for you no more.
You called and wrote but sorry my love is no longer yours.
And what’s ironic is that history repeats itself.
Now that other who replaced you is being replaced with someone new.
So now I have learned that life goes on and love kills no one.

It’s amazing how one hospital trip can change the rest of your life. Or even lack of one even. He was four. I, three.  It was late, I had no idea why I was going to Bridget and John’s house. More importantly, I didn’t know why Zack wasn’t coming with me. 11 pm, I guess that’s pretty late for a three year old. I don’t think at that point I really had any grasp on what was actually happening. That nothing would ever be the same again. Half asleep, trudging to that sliding glass door I’d seen hundreds of times. I went into the house, the aroma of sweet cinnamon and love hung in the air.
      Burnt toast and peanut butter. That pretty much sums up an entire year of my life. Three years old, and for almost every weekend, which was too many, spent with Bridget and John, sleepless nights and peanut butter toast. There was: late night toast, midnight toast, way too early morning toast, morning toast, breakfast toast, too much toast. I think I was a picky three year old, then again, that isn’t exactly unheard of. I wasn’t very fond of peanut butter or toast, but I still ate it. I yearned for a sweet taste of normality. I craved something routine. Funny, because my life was everything but normal during that year. Funny, because I will never eat peanut butter toast ever, again.
     Many nights spent waiting for an answer. Wishing to go back, and hoping for everything to be okay. But as the car rolled out of the gravel driveway on that first night, so did an unmedicated future for my brother.

16.
What a small weight for the most important gas,
that is keeping us alive.
I was 16 when I realized that my mom
had forever been my biggest supporter.
I was 16 and I was still holding my fingers crossed behind my back,
hoping that Santa was real.

I'm the hidden meaning behind good reasons
that have paved the way toward bad choices.
For I have realized, sitting silently in the corner,
that we are all forced to realize our
own self destruction.

Like the building and the wrecking ball,
of which I am often both.

I am your overspoken words and unsaid thoughts.

I am not the beautiful bare trees in the winter,
but instead I am your poisonous dinner.

I am the passion behind tears
and the emotion behind screams.

I am the thoughts that keep you up at night,
and your cold, bare feet.

I resemble a constant string of avoidance and indecisiveness.

I am your dewy eyes and groggy voice at 7:30 in the morning.

I am nothing but a blinking statue.

I am 16 years worth of unanswered questions.

Yet in 16 years will all I be is
another 16 years older?

I am the epitome of drowning without water,
and not to spoil the ending for you,
but I still have 16 years worth of faith,
that everything will be okay.

So we were sitting around with some college dude
And talking about what we wanted to do later
And the pretty little girls wanted to be singers or artists
And the little blond boy wanted to be a movie director up in the golden city
They had star-studded dreams of art and passion
And this one guy says he wants to be in finance
And be a stock broker
And play with money
Because he likes money.
So I looked over and saw him there
Leaning far back in his chair with a purple penguin T-Shirt
And gloriously doodled notebooks
And I thought this kid
This kid
Is not afraid of losing his soul.
Perhaps he lost it years ago
And figures he's got nothing to lose.

I thought this kid
Is going places.
Perhaps not very moral places, perhaps not very clean places
But big places.

If I was a really good poet I would probably say many deep things about this kid so willing to be a Wall Street slave
But I'm also
Just a kid

I have been running for years
Tub full of tears..
Fighting dozens of fears
Betrayed by peers..
Trust issues ..
As I sit here and clutch tissues..
How can a man cry blood.
Pops killed as a kid life of a thug...
Not me but he..
I am a lover not fighter.
Guess that's why at one point I was a womanizer..
Liquor licked lust until the night expired
I ran from my calling..
Taking the wrong shots I failed at balling...
Realized the love of the Messiah
Sin check my rap sheet I had piers
Should have been put in a hellish prison
Embracing conviction.
Jesus Christ gave me redemption