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 Nov 2013 Hayleigh
Amber S
Bambi
 Nov 2013 Hayleigh
Amber S
she licked her lips, tasted a pinch of salt.
"i’m not like other girls"
isn’t that what every other girl says?
****** bambi eyes, eyelashes curled in a q.
he drinks until she cries, scared she will be
shot. imagine pretty little petals upon pretty little
thighs.
"i’m not like other girls"
ringlets, hair bouncing waves upon waves upon
ocean, sea, tidal
waves.
he smokes until she dances, in circles, through
vapors, underneath a table that holds too much
quick *** and liquor.
"i’m not like other girls"
and he could have said, “i’m not like other boys”
but he was broke, in denial, in and out of love, in and out of
hotel rooms.
words sound so much more appealing in darken
rooms.
"no, bambi dear, no you’re not."
 Nov 2013 Hayleigh
Amber S
storm
 Nov 2013 Hayleigh
Amber S
remember when all we had was each other?
i wake up with the same joints creaking, but this time
thunderstorms applaud through my
spine.
my lips haven’t kissed yours enough, and i’m so parched, parched
parched.
poker face, but you have flipped through my every chapter,
every volume, swallowed the covers.
remember when all we had each other?
i’m terrified

that there’s so much more than
you.
 Nov 2013 Hayleigh
Amber S
sometimes i just want to chop all of my hair off and dye it a deep purple,
but i know even then i’ll still like the
sound of spoons clinking in mugs
and i’ll still cry when i hear styrofoam
squeaking past.
sometimes i just want to buy a ticket for nowhere, anywhere,
leaving no letters, no goodbyes, but all my things neat
intact. and i will have nothing but the clothes clinging to me,
ten piercings, three tattoos, and a body too sluggish for someone
so young.
sometimes i just want to wake up at four in the morning and see what color your eyes are
when the sun hits them a certain way, with bursts of gold and specks
of pixie dust.
how do i always end these with you?
i don’t know what i want, but it always seems to be
you. you. you.
 Nov 2013 Hayleigh
Amber S
I had chewed up lips and a consciousness that slipped between your fingers and my thin laced skin. I was fifteen, in love with you and pointy objects and the desire to one day feel alive.

Nights were our favorites. You held me high on your shoulders while I spread my arms and screamed. Your fingers pricked my thighs and I could feel your molecules forming with my molecules and when I saw my breath coming in little puffs of cotton ***** in the air all I could think of, Is this what life is?

Sometimes you would run with me on your shoulders and I had to latch on for dear life. My nails in your gold speckled hair, “Don’t you dare close your eyes,” you’d say and I’d cry from the wind, from the adrenaline, from the thought of you ever letting go. Little crystal streams ending nowhere.

But eventually, you did, you dropped me hard and fast and I fell upon the cold frosted grass. No warning, no squeeze of assurance. The wind knocked out of me, tears freshly stained upon acne scarred cheeks. I tried to lift my head to see you, but you were gone. All I had was the tethered swing set, the stars. And this is what life is, I thought. It’s flying until you can’t. Falling until you cannot breathe and then it’s over.
With a thud.
You brave heroic minds,
Worthy your country's name,
That honour still pursue,
Go, and subdue,
Whilst loit'ring hinds
Lurke here at home with shame.

Britons, you stay too long,
Quickly aboard bestow you;
And with a merry gale
Swell your stretched sail,
With vows as strong
As the winds that blow you.

Your course securely steer,
West and by South forth keep;
Rocks, lee-shores, nor shoals,
When Eolus scowls,
You need nor fear,
So absolute the deep.

And cheerfully at sea,
Success you still entice
To get the pearl and gold;
And ours to hold
Virginia,
Earth's only Paradise.

Where Nature hath in store
Fowl, venison, and fish;
And the fruitfull'st soil,
Without your toil,
Three harvests more,
All greater than your wish.

And the ambitious vine
Crowns with his purple mass
The cedar reaching high
To kiss the sky,
The cypress, pine,
And useful sassafras.

To whom the golden age
Still Nature's laws doth give,
No other cares attend
But them to defend
From winter's rage,
That long there doth not live.

When as the luscious smell
Of that delicious land,
Above the sea that flows,
The clear wind throws,
Your hearts to swell,
Approaching the dear strand.

In kenning of the shore,
(Thanks to God first given)
O you, the happiest men,
Be frolic then!
Let canons roar,
Frighting the wide heaven!

And in regions far
Such heroes bring ye forth
As those from whom we came,
And plant our name
Under that star
Not known unto our North.

And as there plenty grows
Of laurel everywhere,
Apollo's sacred tree,
You may it see
A poet's brows
To crown, that may sing there.

Thy voyages attend
Industrious Hakluit,
Whose reading shall inflame
Men to seek fame,
And much commend
To after-times thy wit.
 Nov 2013 Hayleigh
Infamous one
So I had this doucher crtic get on my case about my writing
Sometimes I write thoughts or ideas out
How I write and what I do with my writing is my business
I've always tried to be positive and have empowering thoughts
Saying what no one dares say
I'm not judging others creativity I'm respectful
I bounce around ideas they are like lego pieces
Everything connects for something greater
If not one statement will make a difference id like to believe
If not I tried my writing helps me have a voice
I don't have anyone to turn to but that's my business
Just write don't care how its done just get it out
 Nov 2013 Hayleigh
Matt Morgan
I never thought I'd write not one or two but FOUR poems about you lovely lady.
And what a very special, unique, kind, brave, intelligent, gorgeous,
strong, sweet, exciting, fun, funny, and did I say a special lady you are.
You know what you want in life and you never bore me and you're no gossip.
I Know you have busy life but already missing the one I want most.
YOU ARE the one I want to spend my time with no doubt about it.
Smiling thinking of kissing and want to plant soft tender ones on your full lips.
I LOVED the long late night talks and sharing of our hopes and dreams.
And Betty hours passed and sun rises and it feels like our talks are too brief.
Asking you to think about what I said and never forget the words.
I think about the moment you stole my heart and my world change.
Still knocked for a loop and dazed by the dynamic beautiful storm you are.
Even if we remain just friends you are a treasure and unique godsend.
 Nov 2013 Hayleigh
K Balachandran
Lead me, as I hover lightly on your wings, to secrets-
I always wanted to make mine, get liberated;
to hear a sweet singing bird, in poet's wordless midnight,
fly over Everglades, where the flora and fauna of soul thrive
and to embrace the sweet lust of lover's heart, where soul finds its peace.
I could taste them.
I could taste the rage, the agony, the hatred.
I could taste the love of a mother, slowly leaving me…
One small drop at a time.

And it drove me crazy, as I took a step
Cars racing past me, no one would have time to think
Soon
I would be ‘that girl’,
The girl who couldn’t take it
The girl who ended it all

But as I began to take the last step
Head pounding now
Mind dull
They stopped me

As much as I wanted to believe that it was over
As much as I wanted to believe that I couldn’t feel,
That I couldn’t live
They proved I could

I was drowning now,
But I managed to escape
The taste of my tears
Bringing me back to reality.
 Nov 2013 Hayleigh
Allen Wilbert
It's Good To Be The King

While sitting on my golden throne,
dogs throw me their best bone.
Men bow down at my feet,
on my lap, women have a seat.
Kids give me their favorite toys,
I break the ones that make noise.
Rich people give me their gold,
poor people do as their told.
It's good to be the king,
everyone dances when I sing.
My queen obeys every command,
if not she gets a hard right hand.
Every servant does their job,
most people call me a snob.
My kids go the the best school,
if they are bad, I make them eat my stool.
It's good to be the king,
my castle has a hidden wing.
All my mistresses are eager to please,
off with their heads, if they don't appease.
My army has never lost a war,
if some happen to die, I just get more.
There is always talk of a revolution,
any talk of treason, is an automatic execution.
It's good to be the king,
I'm the puppeteer who pulls the string.
Every Sunday criminals get thrown to the lions,
the games begin with the sound of sirens.
Thousands come to scream and cheer,
while I drink wine, waiting for the invention of beer.
I'm getting old and about to retire,
my oldest son, all the girls desire.
My other son is a bit fruity,
I still have one last duty.
Still one battle left to win,
just one chance left to legally sin.
I strangled my family with some string,
**** it's good to be the king.
I think I'll keep my throne a few more years,
my families heads, I kept as souvenirs.
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