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Dance with me, Lucy
Show me kaleidoscopes of the spirit
Colors mixed and found, anew
Make the little clock
On my iPhone,
Spin in violent motion
As I stare into your eyes

Lie with me, Lucy
Tell me your stories
As I lie on my back and listen
In wonder
To the sounds caressing my soul
It's only you that brings out
This wonderful, wonferful feeling
in me

You make my mind do backflips
I lose myself in you
My conciousness expanding
The third eye peeled open
By your paper fingernails
And the taste of you,
Keeps me coming back
Wasting all my money,
Wasting all my time
But I'd lose all that only if
I can have you by my side

Why do you have to go away?
Why do you leave me drained?
Do you find solace in,
These tired eyes that remain?
I can fall into your influence
Like a perfume inviting my sweetly
To the breast of a conscience yet unexplored
Miles away, I am from me,
With you alone, the third eye sees
everything left unexplained
To me
I love you
Isn't it obvious?
 May 2014 Alethea
Jack
I built it
Brick by brick
Slathering mortar
Rebar pierced
Lines off center
Foundation firm
Concrete faults
Cemented sadness
Tall as it is wide

I built it
Contracted of stupidity
Designed in self-absorption
Blue prints of folded sorrow
Erected by a fool
No cranes needed
Drawn in teardrops
Fallen from your eyes
Collected puddles of my deceit

I built it…this wall
That keeps you from me
****, where is an earthquake when you need one?
 May 2014 Alethea
MST
Why does this world seem so dark,
with ****** and suicide at every channel,
with a **** in some unknown country up on a panel.
And yet we continue to live our lives,
filled with thoughts of insults on people we barely know,
stabbing one another with thoughts shaped like knives.
And then when we are hit with a catastrophic moment,
where someone is dead who was close to our hearts,
and only then is when our empathy starts.
I had a friend die today who I hadn't spoken of in years,
yet I do not find myself in tears,
he was a man who had lived his life,
but took it away when filled with strife.
Yet I cannot bring myself to believe,
that people will put up faces to deceive.
Our selfish desires make us look past them,
forgetting that we could be where the problems stem.
And how can there be such selfish desires,
to ******, steal and start fires.
We desire money and pride,
while looking past societies suicide.
So maybe if we look into ourselves,
and realize we are just one of many on the shelves,
to care and protect should be our main goal,
not to just live and collect our toll.
I guess you could call it poetic how by the age of 12 I had no recollection of what happiness tasted like on my tongue. Some would say it was tragically beautiful.
But it was not poetic, nor was it beautiful,  but it was tragic. It was so very, very sad, and that sadness is only doubled now that people see sorrow as glorious.  It is not glorious. It is not strength. It is a lump of iron in your chest and stomach and it eats you from the inside, out and you have no right to think that blood stained wrists are anything other than tragic. So very,  very tragic.
 May 2014 Alethea
Trinayana Panda
She
She is a blush of the summits during the sunrise,
She is the ray of hope in the heart of the failure.
She is the light in the dark life of the jailer.

She is buried deep within the soul of an erring,
She is affable, she is daring.
She completes the incomplete, takes away the complete.

Her laugh, her smile, will take away your tears.
She will answer to thy holy prayers.
She will console, she will hurt,
She will shed away your discomfort.

She is the fragrance of the flowers,
She is the sparkle of the moonlit night.
She is the cause of contrite.
She is the tune of the upright.

She gives, she takes.
She will make mistakes.
She will rise, she will destroy.
She will rejoice, express joy.

She isn't weak or bleak,
Do not question her physique, she is unique.
She will disown, she will deceive.
A girl, a woman, a lady, has always been dominated in the society. They have not been given equal rights as men, and have always been considered weak. In this poem, it says that men are incomplete without woman. Woman are the eternal light of society. They are independent, they are daring, they are unique. Each one, is beautiful. She sheds away all the tears and gives happiness, but she has the power to take away your happiness, make you sad, depressed. She, in every religion, is present, everywhere. In the form of Durga or Kali in Hinduism, or Mother Mary in Christianity, she is powerful, she is ultimately the glory of everyone's life. Whether at night or during the day in the midst of the sweet-smelled flowers, she is present.
 May 2014 Alethea
-KL
Before & Now
 May 2014 Alethea
-KL
Before when I called you,
You would answer with,
"Hi beautiful."
Now you answer with,
"What?"
Before you would end the call with,
"I love you more than anything."
Now you end it with,
"I gotta go."  
Before you would write me love letters.
Now you don't even call me back.
I need a lot of super glue so I can glue our love back.
Because this love, is corrupting...
-K.L.
 May 2014 Alethea
Annabel Lee
Honesty is so freeing
but so terrifying

Like bungee jumping,
with the pure sweet adrenaline
pumping through your bones
telling you you'll be okay,
you'll be okay,

You're okay.

That's why
I'm still wavering
on the edge of the cliff
feeling the tight straps around my legs,
knowing I will be caught
when I fall
but still seeing the
thousand foot drop beneath me.
 May 2014 Alethea
Evan McClellan
Sky- People say that the I am the limit
Sun- Until you go too high and get burnt by me
Sky- Underneath all the lies
Sun- Is a gun with one bullet loaded
Sky- You may cry while I die
Sun- Stunned while your whole life is spun
Sky- Dry your tears
Sun- Yes I know, It's no fun
I can fly beyond the sky now
Without getting burnt by the sun
 May 2014 Alethea
chloe hooper
forget the drugs. yeah, they’re going
around and yeah, they’re pretty
dangerous, but they don’t take as many
lives. stop searching kids’
lockers and start looking for the deeper
stuff, the things that leave heavier
inflictions. yeah, i
know it’s nearly one
hundred degrees outside, and
there’s girls in here wearing
long sleeved sweaters. they’re
hiding something more
sinister, something
that can’t be measured in
kilos.
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