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I think it is really funny that one poet could hate another poet so much.
Feels like im in twilight
These eyes only see star-lite nights
Step under sun, and my skins pushing crystal
It's like a dream but this ***** actually happening

Baby, my touch isn't free
Ill play grim Reaper
Your time is valuable to me
Sounds like the script to a romantic fantasy

Like a sixth sense
I can see what I believe
And this metaphor seems real to me
Happiness is my opinion
The nights just when im living

To the chronicles of the AOE (Army of Excellence)
When Saint Christopher grew his wings
To become a savior to the human king
Took flight and saved the image of the living

These are just stories
Now here comes a parody
It's pure and so euphoric
A joke, so cheap everyone can afford it
Making circles in history
But I could die tommorow, and no amount of money
Would be able to buy these types of memories
 Jun 2014 Grace Pickard
Liz Anne
My heritage is martyrdom and I was raised in the shadow of its strict religion
Empathy has moved mountains
so have I
for those who could not
--would not--
move their own
A child of silent strength
mine is a lineage of
survivors of the ones they love
We are a calm
fighting breed
whose cause is never their own
and of them
I am proud as I could ever be
I've yet to see
dynamite
that could as
gracefully
move mountains
as my maternal ancestors taught me
They have bred me to be
a Joan of the Dark
Valley-born babes
find their way
to me
because they know
long
I will stand by while they face the mountain
casting shadows across their face
My blood is the roots of palm trees
weathering the scars of winds and earth-born quakes
They have served many well
in times of harsh valley winters and flooded springs
But I've found
my roots have yet
to serve me
I'm a martyr by instinct
and there has yet to be a cause
that's lost on me
My blood burns at the thought
but its taken me
this long
to find
all martyrs burn for troubles that know them only by name
I have mountains of
my own
and I would not ask
anything
past my own palm leaves
to brave their shadows
I know the trouble with the troubled
is all too often that they cast their own shadows
and prefer to be that way
Heretic of a dying religion
I've cast enough stones on the behalf of babes
Now I think
I'll keep my bricks
and build my own set of stairs
up
out of these shadows
and into my own hard-earned
sunlight
I write poetry
Because it is easy
Mix metaphors
With simple similes
An awesome analogy
Don't let the diction get too decipherable
Don't let the fiction get too ****** up
We all know how a story should work
Make me emotional
Make me feel something
So I can feel human
Because I'm a lazy
Emotionally repressed
Kid with a shoulder full of chips
And a mouth full of ******* jokes
So make me whole
Mr poet
While I fantasize
About all the ways
You could die
 Jun 2014 Grace Pickard
Elaina
Holding on to time
It's pull, stronger than my grip
So
      away
                 it
                     goes.
 May 2014 Grace Pickard
Jarret
I saw you
you looked ****
you saw me
you walked over
we talked
laughed
flirted
You took my hand
You guided me like a surgeon
You showed me pleasure
You told me things

I thought for a second. this is raunchy

Then I felt, this is wonderful

You held me
You kissed me
You loved me

Then............

You left me
I'm going in this journey,
anxious to what i"ll find ,
but I've chosen 2 follow my heart,
and forget all that in my mind,

Now I don't have it all ,
matter of fact i don't have a dang thing,
just a broken soul from a broken home,
hanging off loose strings,

But, I'm still holding on through all the pains ,
my smile is still maintained,
knowing that one day in time,
sunshine will come from rain,

No time to give up hope now,
look back so far long I've came,
through all the troubles grew from from struggle,
now look who've I became,

A young man determined ,
aimless on his quest for greatness,
just to see his mother smile with tears,
from telling her he made it,

Again, I'm just on this journey,
with no conscious to where ill be,
trying light bulb through all the darkness,
and find someone perfect enough for me,

To find a women as strong as me,
with every ounce of breath she sings,
notes to the sounds of our flesh,
from the happiness we bring,

And if there be more misery in this path,
then so be it at least I tried,
Killing myself to  pay you back through the entire world,
for every drop of those tears you've cried.

-Shahrukh Zamir
I want to feel you.
Scraping against me.
I want to taste the,
Mango in your kiss.

Drag from your chest to your neck.
to claw from your ribs down to your hip.
I want to feel you on me.
And taste the citrus on your lips.

Starving for the touch of,
Hoping for your grip.
Trying not to think too much.
About your blackberry bliss.

Distracted by your hammer hits.
The water against the ship.
The boat begins to tip.
Spilling fruit into the wavy rift.
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