"I wish you well."
                                                          ­                    



                                         ­                                     (but not too well without me)

her heart is out at sea
but her hands are busy at work
things that she really couldn't care less about
things she "needs" to accomplish
complaints are voiced so often
about how unfair and cruel life can be and
the inferiority clawing through the minds around her
but she battles her own demons
day by day she struggles but she still rises
and she puts on her armor and she charges at it
she isn't one to hide because she isn't the one to give up
she has always been enviable
but what about admirable?
there's a castle in her mind
with candles lit in every window
and the wind can never take her light away
she is beauty in the making even as she sits idle
she attacks the world around her and comes out victorious
with flying colors
her words are magnificence and her heart is determined
she has always been enviable
she has always been admirable

There are some people
Who think very logically
They have a hard time
Seeing anything that
Doesn't make sense in
Their minds and that
Doesn't fit into their
Ideas of what is
Logical and right and
What they can see right
In front of their eyes
There are also the
People who understand
And comprehend the
World around them
Through their feelings
And emotions and
Can see the bigger
Picture and the bigger
Plan easier than most
We all make up our
Own parts and we
All have our own
Purpose and even
Though we are all
Different in our own
Ways we must learn to
Appreciate the wonderful
Differences that make
Up the whole and
To see and take notice
Of the wonderful and
Beautiful diversity of
Life and of people and
Of thoughts and even
Of the Earth as well
As we begin to
Celebrate the diversity
Instead of trying to
Segregate and separate
Ourselves based on our
Differences we should
Be trying to learn and
Understand from each
Other instead of trying
To conquer and subjugate
People to our ideas and
Ways of thinking we should
Be trying to see things
From the other side of
Things and understanding
There is more the life than
Right or wrong and trying
To prove yourself to others
And seeing that even with
All of our differences we
Are for more connected
And alike than we all
Could imagine and once
We understand that simple
Truth everything else starts
To fall into place as we start
To see the beautiful diversity
And the wonder of life as
We begin to see things
More completely and
Understand we are all
Parts of one big great
Diverse community that
We call the human race

Balled Up
by Ahmad ***
I'm balled up inside.
I am slowly crawling out.
I'm awakening

Dark floats out into the silence
Crashing on the banks of Prometheus's wings
Opening a velvet-silk curtain.
To a fabric of shadowed stars
Cloudy fingers sew it clean
While invisible hands stitch pearls back in.
A ghost flits on the hallway stair
Reaching for the last shafts of sun
Tumbling off a silent dream
Blind as black with a lullaby hum
Filling the gaps in an empty line
Somewhere between dusk and dawn.

LE/DC

There's a lady we all know,
her ****, she loves to show.
She's buying the highway to heaven,
she only has a money account of seven.
Living hard, living tough,
loves *** that is rough.
Ain't nowhere she'd rather be,
she's living to be set free.
There's a note on the wall,
it's for her name to call.
In a bush by the swamp,
that's where she loves to romp.
She has no rhyme or reasons,
cause you know words have four meanings.
She's now on the stairway to hell,
she didn't fall, she fell.
No red lights, no school zone,
just a giant hole surrounded by stone.
A weird feeling she gets,
when she looks to the south,
no longer can she use her juicy mouth.
Ooh, it makes her wonder,
ooh, it makes her really ponder.
Nothing will slow her down,
her ******* have turned brown.
The devil's calling her to join him,
she starts singing her favorite hymn.
She could't afford the highway to heaven,
she barely had enough for a Slurpie from 7-11.
And as she zooms down the stairway road,
slow motion she wishes was her mode.
She's on the stairway to hell,
her soul she had to sell.
She's on the stairway to hell,
no stopping at that famous California hotel.

Sometimes your mother will look at you
like a dead language, some untranslatable
character. Speak anyway.

Sometimes your burning heart’s smoke signals
will make her weep and splutter,
or pass over her like incense, slightly
too sweet, and thick with silence.

Hand her an apple.
Know she might choke before she sees
the core.
Feed her anyway.

Sing your hymns with windows open
when the house is ablaze, do not
suffocate. Gasp through carbon,
remember who gave you your
stardust: you are
heavenly. Burning bibles
purges nothing, and screaming
into pillows
is not a prayer, precious girl.

I'm so alone
drowning in my own thoughts

While they gossip and act their age
I listen
While letting my mind digest the mysteries of life

When did I become so old?
So detached from what it means to act my age.

Normal conversations for me involve the future.
They are so normal - gossiping and joking around

So isolated among my own age group
What am I doing with my life? With the now?