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Amanda Lynn Carey
He tells me that I’m beautiful.
That I’m good at what I do.
He tells me that I’m worth every cent while the clock ticks to two.
The mattress is up against the window.
The door is locked x3.
I sit and watch as the smoke floats and drifts around me.
I use my magic words.
And I do my hair just right.
I’ll make a bunch of money if I can make it through the night.
The drugs make it bearable.
So my body hardly feels.
This is my reality now. This is what is real.
Makeup painted on my face
And Fishnets up my thighs.
I tell him that I need him, right to his buggin eyes.
His pipe and rock are on the floor.
So I watch where I walk.
When he gets it in his system I can hardly even talk.
The paranoia eats his mind
As the clock ticks to 4.
He locks us in the bathroom, so no one can see us anymore.
The last of his drugs are gone
As the hour comes to 5
He tells me that I’m beautiful. That I make him feel alive.
He drops me off at home
And thanks me for what I’ve done.
“Last night was great.” He says with a smile,
“I Can’t wait for the next one!”
Stephen S
I'm at war with the verses lying inside my head,
Should I have been a doctor or plumber instead?
Some other job to be content and productive,
And not chained to this verse, this lyric destructive.

If words can be weapons and a lyric hold power,
Then I grow more dangerous hour by hour.
Slave to the adjective, linked to the verb,
Trapped by each subtle nuance I observe.

A wellspring of discontent, driven by rage,
My life, my heart bleeds out on to the page.
It's not simple grammar but linguistic frustration,
That lends itself perfectly to my situation.

See now my soul spread out on the paper,
A storm of calamity that won't seem to taper.
I am the victim of an invisible crime,
Entrapped by a pattern, a rhythm, a rhyme.

Trying, but failing, I can't even think,
Stuck in this bondage at the whim of the ink.
Now see the other side to the life of a poet,
I am without direction or control and I show it.

Laid upon the sheets, my struggle abounds.
I want quiet right now but I hear deafening sounds!
I cannot get out of this word laden den.
This is my sentence, a life in the pen.
My train of thought
has only gone in one direction
it’s almost terrifying
How quickly anticipation
turns to fear
let’s weave our delicate dance
avoiding talking about the issue
til we crack
and all the words flow out
but nothing really gets done
doesn’t it?
Because you’re not ready yet
and that’s okay
So it leads me back
to where I’ve found myself
too many times recently
rereading your poems
that are surprisingly
about me
I’ll try to grasp
any meaning I can
trying to find what I can
to make this go easier
for the both of us
But for know
My train of thought
will only just
go back to you
Edward Coles
Woke up on the edge of it
the sober morning light
woke up and felt assured of it
but it didn't make it right

So now I paint my eyes so blue
and they colour all my days
all I do is think of you
in the sunglass shade

Woke up with my mind set on
all that's come and gone
are you still listening
to the same old sad, sad songs?

Or does the sun reflect your mood
now you made it out alive?
Do you still need a drink or two
to fall asleep on time?

Woke up on the edge of it
the sober morning light
woke up and felt assured of it
but it didn't make it right

So now I paint my eyes so blue
and they colour all my days
all I do is think of you
in the sunglass shade
A song I wrote

I'd like to be alone,
but I don't want to be lonely.

I'd like to be in hope,
but I don't want to be hopeless.

I'd like to be in love,
but I don't want to be broken.

I'd like to be sad,
but I don't want to be weak.
For when I'd like to be 'me', but I don't want to be 'her'.


I once
was small.

I fit into the thinnest cavities &

I sip on vitals till
My vials are full
baby you
make Me whole

I am in love
with life
so much
I cling
all nails & teeth

I'll sprawl my feet out
on your tables
I'll scribble my name
on your letters

I am BIG


I'll leave the light on
All night:
no sleep
while I'm busy
loving you

I'll even
Refurbish your skin with glass, but
You'll bruise easy

No need for windows
My dear:
I'll see for you!

No need for clocks
My love:
I'll count down for you!

& soon
your body
will love Me

I felt as though I missed the last step on my stairs
I felt so stupid for not realising  
I was laughing at myself
My whole world felt like I was falling and I couldn't understand why till I was told the truth
And now my feet r placed on the ground
But suddenly I miss falling
It seemed to feel like I was  flying
As free as a bird
Now I'm no less beer free but trapped in a cage we call society
The Opulent of Saint Pierre -du -Mont
Grew crystals near the sea
In Val -de -Loire they’d decoupage
Bruised apples from the tree
While whimsy forth in Chateaus north
Swans waltzed across the lakes
Dead Pheasants hung on copper hooks
An Aga slowly bakes.

But far up North in Spekes flat plains
A table’s being set
The Farmer’s boots outside the door
Soft leather, soaking wet
Dirtied hands of joyful kids, held spoons
Of pitted steel
Watched Mother serve the Peawack Soup
Her family’s meagre meal

“C’est Magnifque !” cried Monsieur DuBois
Watching Peacocks paint with feathers
His children ran from Gothic shade
Engulfed in swathes of Heather
Greek Gods of stone do stand alone
Clothed in drupes and holly
And Trompe L’ Oeil on every wall
Adorn the garden folly

But far up North on Spekes soft land
A farmer looks outside
At driving rains and rattling chains
He casts his hopes aside
His children run with barefoot glee
‘Cross carpets stained with labour
The fire burns strong, a stolen log
‘Borrowed’ from his neighbour

Of Villefranche-sur-mer ,sands pure white
Boast shells the locals laquer
In Ports, boats trawl, with salty men
And hulls of snapping chatter
Hear music glide from quartets bows
Past Pink Facades of flowers
And lovers float on summer’s breath
Hold hands and kiss for hours

But far up North in Spekes dull air
Young children lie asleep
The Farmer holds their tiny hands
To gaze upon them, deep
His wife will watch from candlelight
Soft smiles resist the cold
And Parish bells shall ring aloud
To gather up the old
Speke was a farming village in Lancashire England. The town has expanded but the farms are long gone
I am so perfect
That's what you said
But one day I wake
You suddenly left

I want us to last long
Tell me what I did wrong
But you wanna be alone
So who am I to say No

Yes I did everything
To keep us working
Thought you did same thing
That's what I'm thinking

Now that you are gone
I guess now I am done
Done with one sided love
The love I always have
Pandering to an audience - for “likes”
As an endeavor...  seems so hollow.
I’d rather write a thing I like myself -
And be the one I’d want to follow!
It’s so easy to want to try to quantify the value of a piece of art by what other people think...but I think it can cheapen the authenticity of the work if you sacrifice too much in the pursuit of mass appeal.  It’s a delicate dance.
Peter Balkus
If love doesn't exist,
then what I'm doing here,
sitting in the park,
waiting for you to come
and to let your lips be kissed?

If love doesn't exist,
what's making me write those words?
Who's sitting on my shoulder
and whispering in my ear
the sweetest things?

If love doesn't exist,
why my heart is beating fast,
minutes away from seeing your face
and a hair stroke away from being
all over the place?

If love doesn't exist, why I always cry,
listening to the song reminding me
the very first time I met you -
it was the last time I ever felt alone.

(Love is not blind,
blind are those, who never loved.)
So much comfort in the sound of a human heartbeat
Jasleen kalra
And if you are to love,
Love as the moon loves.
It doesn't steal the night,
It only unveils the beauty of the dark.

And if you are to love,
Love as the rain loves.
It doesn't wet the bodies,
It only washes the sad dirt of the souls.

And it you are to love,
Love as the wind loves.
It doesn't drift away,
It only cleanse you to the core by invading through each pore.

And if you are to love,
Love as the sun loves.
It doesn't radiates heat,
It only pours its warmth on you to enlighten your way.

And if you are to love,
Love as the star loves.
It doesn't delightfully twinkles,
It only reminds you that not even death can separate two hearts.

And so forth,
if you are to love
Love as the whole universe
& not just a part of it.
One day I woke up,
I realized that it was yesterday,
and that yesterday was no way to live tomorrow,
And if I did not change today,
My yesterdays awakening would have only been in sorrow..
For many yesterdays ago I took advice I should have never even borrowed ,
By those who chose to live today as though, they may never see tomorrow
To all those times,
I was left to cry,
Standing behind the shadow,
For I was too shy,

Too many times I almost believed,
I could be somebody else,
Reach the stars,
Ring the holy bells,

I was brought down to reality,
Each year –another turmoil,
You say, "Act like a good girl."
Oh but I am only going to spoil,

My sins, my pieces,
You never will understand, you won't
In ten years I see myself alone,
All the memories yet linger to haunt,

I don't expect anyone to love me,
To stay,
The home I've been looking for,
See, within me, it'll survive

Alone, I'll be just fine,
Get away from this hopeless town,
I'll go very, very far away,
Far enough – just to never be found
Kurt Carman
Out here on the Arkansas Delta Swamp there’s little patch of green grass behind my house that I lie on when summer days are long and warm. It’s in the evening, just as the mountains swallow that raging sun, the swamp behind our house comes to life.

It all starts jumpin’ about 7:18 Greenwich Mean Time (GMT) or as I refer to it as Good Music Time. I just lie there, close my eyes, fold my arms across my chest and take in the performance that’s about cut loose. And when I hear that fat Arkansas bull frog flop up on to that lily pad podium, I hear him croak out some throaty instructions to the orchestra to start warmin’ up.

And after a few minutes of this warmin’ up period, that Frog taps his cat tail baton on the podium to get everyone’s attention. That’s when my zygomaticus major muscles contract and out comes a big toothy smile. I hear him give a throat clearing “herrrhem” and everyone has fixed eyes on that big bull frog as he lifts his baton towards the sky.

-To Be Continued
in this raw
and simple
i set forth
the notion
our children
need us
and upcoming
we will see
a parade
of some of our
smartest, most
and sweetest
youth marching
united, shoots of
grass roots
who know shots
from assault
i feel
called upon
to pause
at a moment
in time such as this,
challenge myself
to consider
simply the logistics
involved in safely
delivering home
to the nation's
Capitol our most
statistic: our babies
under 18
setting forth
across our aging
bridges and highways
and on airplanes
and charter
buses, away from
their studies, dates
and fun times.
i am ashamed
it has gotten
to this stage

in this raw
and simple
space, i wonder
why i write where
the majority
of us
wander off
from poems about
the most egregious
in our world.
i know politics
is a hot-button
issue and i fall prey
to self-absorption,
but not today.
not this time

this poem
is for the kids.
they're sick
of being shot at.
they're sick
of this shit.
within your soul,
can you feel
how frighteningly
creepy this


if all electricity was to pause
all machinery turned off

if nothing is distracting,
would we finally en masse

globally take responsibility-
feel them, hear them,

hold them, still them-
the world's crying children?
Saturday, March 24.
March For Our Lives,
a name picked
by our babies,
You're a real comet boy
aren't you
everyone wants to call you a
shooting star
but you know you're just a
falling rock​
glittery and pretty boy
all bright and cheery
we all want to know if you light up
the dark
eyelashes cluttered
with star dust
​do you wear a crown
of broken moonstones?
​cracked and gorgeous
your beauty is your pain
so sad yet so pretty
comet boy
we all want to heal you
won't you let us heal you?
Dazed Dreaming
Out on the dance floor.
Flashing lights.
A tad intoxicated.
You always say you can't dance but here you are with me dancing by my side.

You pull me close as the beat drops.
I start moving my hips about.
Loving the feel of your hands on my body.
Pulling me against you as if you'd have your way with me right there.

Everyone around us fades as you turn me around bend down and kiss me.
You're so intoxicating.
The way you make me feel so alive is simply addicting.

You pull back and smile at me just happy to be with me.
I watch as you start silly white boy dancing in front of me.
No rhythm, outdated moves,
all because you know it'll make me laugh.
It was that very moment I fell for you.
Secret Garden
My color is blue,
My color is pink.
Heavy and true,
My colors do sink.

My color is gray,
My color is black.
Feeling dismayed,
Affection, I lack.

My color is white,
My color is green.
Love and hatred,
I am in between.

My color is red,
My color is mauve.
My rage runs deep,
My pain, unresolved.
ever-growing heartache.
Hailey James
Is there a word for that moment you know it's finally over?
The weight of the world is lifted off your shoulders,
And although you suffer, you know you'll be okay,
Because for the first time in a long time,
You feel like yourself again.
Is there a word for that?
I wish there was.

I would have said it when we exchanged words,
Through screams for the whole world to hear,
Wondering, their eyes on us,
That as sad as I may be,
It was still happier than you ever made me.

Still, I hope and pray,
I wish upon the stars at night,
That one day you'll return, as sweet as ever,
So I never have to use that word,
Not in front of you.
Inspired by the structure of Sarah Kay's "Postcards". Used it as a prompt in class today and thought I should share!
Your words have the the ability to make me feel things that I didn't know words could make me feel

and I am constantly more and more captivated by each entry of your journal

quite frankly, I would find full amusement in reading something as simple of your shopping lists
My world starts spinning                                                        
When the teacher is pinning
The new assignment to the board
Oh lord!
Chaos is unleashed when I step upon the bus
Kids are screaming
Kids are having a fight
It's not a pretty sight
Chaos is an old enemy
Everyday is another fight
With Chaos
Chaos is too powerful
He always wins
Only days in my room
Curled up with a good book
Chaos cannot disturb me then
I am in the world of reading.
I fight back
Breaking up fights
Befriending siblings
Doing chores
Righting this world
Stopping Chaos in his tracks
A hard battle
Sometimes lost
Sometimes won
Chaos always comes back stronger than ever
But then I do too.
Tristan Brown
Keep it together
That's all you ever do
Say you have a breaking point
But you know that isn't true

Fake emotions all the time
That's why you never really cry

Pretend that you can assoicate
Last time you could was when you were eight

Now you are an outsider
And you're better off because you are
why do i keep falling for the girls hours upon hours away?
is it for the sensation upon falling for the impossible
or is it purely because i just enjoy their existence
or possibly it could be both
i enjoy their existence but it feels impossible
because if i am friends with them and i tell them it could go two ways
it could bloom into a wondrous relationship
or it destroy the flower of friendship

so am i to enjoy the flower i have bloomed?
or risk plucking out the petals for a chance at love

decisions like these seem so daunting and terrifying
and the answers are never revealed
so unknown garden seeming thoughts will forever haunt my mind
or possibly turn into action with known results
if only flowers couldn't be broken
and purely bloomed and thrived
and then there was you
who, without knowing
just knew
Ciel Noir
We are such            clever creatures to divide
Most everything             into its different sides
With chaos versus             order, dark and light
The stark duality of         wrong and right
We even split the very        world in two
With human versus human,       we and you
But still no matter how much      we divide
Each thing has infinitely many      sides
If I die today,
Would tears flow,
like a rushing river?
Or the clouds weep,
screaming in thunder?
Would the earth break,
shaking in anger?
Will the world care?
And for a moment,
forget laughter?

If I'm down
to my final heartbeat.
Will anyone be there,
sitting beside me?
When I draw,
the very last breath.
Will you hold my hand,
and feel upset?

If I go,
without saying goodbye.
I want you to know,
that I really tried.
To live and love,
to endure and smile.
To find the truth,
in this realm of lies.

If I'm fated
of leaving soon
to talk with God,
in his glowing room.
I'll be rejoicing,
when I face my doom.
Even I end like a flower,
that withered,
before it blooms.

If inside the casket I lay,
Would there any heaven for me to stay?
Or will my sins, demand me to pay?
Don't even know, how much this life has weighed.

If it's my time, to step on the scale.
Done of my part, in this play.
A lot of regrets,
but nothing more to say.
Wish me luck.
If I die today.
We're almost touching.
we were walking side by side,
you're talking about cabs in your hometown.
I can feel the gravity of your hand, calling my fingers
whispering "it's alright."

We're touching but not quite.
you held my shoulder to protect me from the passing cars.
and for the first time in a long while, I felt so fragile.
In this world where I find it hard even to breathe,
you believed me.

I almost said it.
All I need is one ounce of strength to tell you every single thing that I have ever felt about you.

I want to find home in your collarbones.
Would you be kind enough to let a stranger in?
I want to seep in your being because I'm cold.
The world is harsh and my cracks are aching.

Please don't ever become a stranger,
whose laugh I can recognize anywhere.
in and out
with the seasons

aimless wonders

reality or insanity
sprigs open
searching for a reason

in and out
with the seasons

just a beginning
or have we
reached an end
i want to get high in foreign cities
travel to places i have yet to lay my eyes on
pack a bag and take off, my only motive to feel free
i want to kiss lovers on pavement my toes have never touched
beneath trees rooted with legends in their leaves
ensuring everlasting love
and i want to feel light, rather than weighed down
anchored to one small town
i want to drop everything and get away
to places where time is altered
and the stars are always present
whether it be in the night sky or people's eyes
i want to fall in love with strangers, cities, and scenes
i crave so deeply to feel free
to start anew

but at the same time
i want you to come too

Tiana Marie
She was like music,
and I longed to dance.

Her heart was the beat,
and I begged for the chance.

Her words were the vocals,
and I was put in a trance.

Her smile was the melody,
and I fell in love at first glance.
No one can know your pain
Not nearly as well as yourself
But the rope won't take it away
It just gives it to someone else
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Youllneverunderstand me
This is not a love poem
this is an I love you do you love me like
I love you poem
do you know me like
you think you do poem
this is a would you be disappointed
if you did poem
an I have been feeling the chilling of the air
and I cant tell if it is just the fault of the season
or if you, too, are cooling
whatever heat you had for me
browning and falling and
crumbling between my fingers
like the leaves of these oak trees
in november poem
a what would I need to do to keep us warm poem
and this is also
an I may be completely mistaken poem
an it was seventy degrees today poem
this is a show me I am completely mistaken poem
the moment a poet
falls in love with you

is the moment
you live

f o r e v e r
The voice
I stand in the middle of the room
My classmates are commanded to listen to me
I am the 14th person to present and so far, everyone has done a good job

I stand in the middle of the room
I begin to saw the name of my project
“My Poem”
I cannot remember what it was about
I do remember, what I felt

I stand in the room,
Hoping that everyone feels what I felt when I was writing it
I felt excited, my stomach had ‘butterflies’ I think
I felt the heat in my heart and the cold on my shoulders.
I felt the tingles all over my body, and the air escaping me

I stood in the middle of the room
I stand in the middle of the room
I was in the middle of the room and said
“My poem”
I heard a chuckle.

I ignored it because the ‘in love’ heart in my chest was more excited than It should have been
I continues and my voice began to play tricks on me
And the r’s rolled and the words were suddenly in another language
My mind still ignored it and continues
Because I felt I could write, and read this and everyone could love it

I stood in the middle of the room,
I waited for the, applause, the smiles, the congrats, or even a simple ‘good job’ like everyone else
My teacher said, work on pronunciation. She said it again. Pro-noun-ci-a-tion
Ok. ‘Work on grammar.’ ‘Work on sentence structure’
“Work on being American” the chuckle said
Or the person who chuckled?

It didn’t mean much, you know
I loved writing so much that it did not matter
I would be a writer, I would continue to
STAND in the middle of the room and share my talent
And when I did, he chuckled
She chuckled, I was Mexican

Not a writer. Writers can’t be Mexican
Unless you write in Spanish and in Mexico
But I was too American for that at this point…

SO the next time I wrote I was ashamed,
Maybe if someone else wrote my writing?
But it didn’t matter,
When the teacher began reading,
The chuckle reminded the class it was the ‘Mexican’ who wrote it

“Mi nina” My mom would say
She reminded me that no only was I Mexican
I was a woman,
Only men thrive in this world
I believed it
And that is why my name is ‘The Voice’
Not my actually name,
Disclosure: I accept criticism on how to better my writing
NOT on what to write or on my background
Thanks, for a lesson I will never forget:

I make my own destiny!
It took me seven years
to realise
the words in my mind
were too deep for
my mouth to dig up
I thought it was easier
to open my skin
and let the truth
pour down my arms

It took me seven years
to realise
nobody should be allowed
to touch parts
of your home
or hold pieces  
of your heart
that you don't yet understand

It took me seven years
to realise
I will wear these scars
I'll carry them
through every smile
every kiss
every concerned gaze
I'll carry them
to my grave

It took me seven years
to realise
the pain carved
into the walls
of my castle
etchings of
attempting to disappear
are not a story of weakness
but a tale of
how I survived
Your naked body
Pressed on mine
We kissed

I thought that
I should feel

Thrill, euphoria
Lust, love
Or bliss

But no
I felt
And I'm very sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me.  You are everything I have ever wanted, but for some reason touching you leaves me blank.  I feel nothing.  And I am sorry.
Brianna Love
Walking down a wooded path
tall flowing trees all around,
I came upon the river’s edge
and sat down on the ground.

Sitting at the edge of the river
I stare at its ongoing flow,
I start to give it all my pain
a release with each little throw.

My hardest pain is fear
that I’ve had from so long ago,
of never feeling good enough
that’s dulled my inner glow.

It eats at me like a cancer
each and every day,
the fear of never being good enough
and again being thrown away.

Years of disappointment and abuse
only being property, nothing to love,
but always trying to make things right
so everyone else could rise above.

I throw this fear out into the river
sit back and watch it pass slowly by,
I wrap my arms around myself
feel the release, let myself cry.

I throw out all the other pains
betrayal, heartache, loneliness and more,
I watch them drift gently way
these last tears will be left on this river shore.

Noticing as each and every pain
slowly floats down the river away,
I observe at a distance
as they fade into the suns sparkling rays.

Walking down a wooded path
tall flowing trees all around,
I came upon the river’s edge
and was surprised at what I found.

And ever onward shall we strive
and from the circle peace derive.
The sea in robes of mossy green
and blues the eye has never seen...
In grays that mock the stormy sky
and depths that hold the tears gone by....

A sweet release we give our heart
from pain of past that tore apart,
relief that only one can find
when hearts we let, become unconfined,
to leave behind those stormy skies
letting self-love baptize…

A tide of tears resides within
and waits to overflow.
i greet with a smiling face
so others will not know.

How feeble is this masquerade.
Transparent are the games.
Emotions should be given room
without the chides and blames.

The time will come to open up
and let the dam release...
my will, the pressure stop.
my soul will be at peace.

Weep when grief prescribes.
Laugh for humor's sake.
Love with everything you have
and forgive, all your mistakes.
Thank you Cné!!!!!
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