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 Apr 2014 AD Sifford
Heliza Rose
When the night is held prisoner below the horizon

And nothing but the scorching sun dances through the skies

Our eyes shall burn out slowly,like scented candles

First,we shall be happy that the frightening creatures of the dark will have no where to play

Then,we shall weep for our skins will turn crisp and be tan

Next,we would scream for the agony of needing rest would be too much.

We would plead "please night come,please come dear night"

Because we would know this wasnt any mere eclipse

This was how things were to exist now that the night was held prisoner
below the horizon
 Apr 2014 AD Sifford
Timy Mengle
It’s been awhile since I saw your face
I think it was when the town was burning red
I often hear your voice
It’s one of the many inside of my head
Telling me I’m guilt for all I’ve done
Making it impossible to thrive
But you came and you cleared my name
When I was wanted dead or alive
When I was wanted dead or alive

I fear prison, yeah, I fear jail
I guess you gotta do some work in this brain
I’m tired of losing sleep over this
Scared I’ll end up back in these chains
But I gotta tell myself that that aint true
And that you hold the keys
The keys to life and the keys to death
And you’re with me for eternity
And you’re with me for eternity

Sometimes I forget that you are good
And I think you’ll smite me without warning
But I know that you love me
And you’re mercies are new every morning
When I wake up I want to breathe you in
Let you fill me up inside
I want there to be less of me
Please Lord just let me die
Please Lord just let me die

I’m so grateful that you loved me first
I’ll sing about it everyday
This is no beauty pageant
But you see me as Jesus in every way
So If I met your approval
Stamp your name upon this card
Maybe life wouldn’t be so hard
If you would just answer my calls  
If you would just answer my calls
 Apr 2014 AD Sifford
Lelu
Photoshopped fantasy fictions
Misogynistic oppressive depictions
Unobtainable beauty
Fake imagery
This LIE is but violence and bigotry
 Apr 2014 AD Sifford
Natasha
the problem with
being a poet in love,
is that you savour
& trust each word your lover has
without  question.

we are simply in love
with bare literature,
spoken from the lips of someone we hold
in higher regard
than ourselves sometimes.

when you love a poet
each word you utter,
should be a piece of artwork

each sentence,
a highly thought out structure of awe and beauty to leave us seeping
in the warmth of your voice
caressing such fine words

so when deciding that you love someone,
who writes or reads
fill their souls with beauty, memories & truth especially,
for a poet's heart breaks at ease.
thoughts.
At times, I don't wanna go to church.
At times, I don't feel like a Christian.
At times, I feel like no one cares...
Are you even listenin?

You just asked me how I am,
So I started to explain,
But it wasn't the answer you were looking for
You'd much rather hear, "I'm the same."

You don't really care how I'm doing,
But it's the typical Christian thing to ask..
"Hey man, how's it goin?"
Well for one, my heart's shattered like glass.

I sit in the corner alone sometimes
Just to watch and observe how you act
You make fun of the kids who aren't doing so well,
You aren't full of the spirit, you're full of CRAP.

Or what about her, she cuts herself,
You saw that a few months ago.
But you never cared enough to ask if you can help...
You were just one more excuse for her to let go.

So and so asked about her pain
All she needed was just to talk
But he didn't have "time" to hear her out
So he said, "That's good," and took off.

Now she hates going to church
But none of you even care
Nobody befriended her
It was like she was never even there.

I'm going to be brutally honest,
Sometimes I have hatred for you
Because I put myself out there and opened up a bit
But not once has a call came through.

Is that how a church should represent love!?
By acting like this is a game?
What would happen if I stopped talking to you,
Would you even remember my name?

I'm fed up with your mentality
I hate the way you talk about girls
You're fake and uncaring, selfish and cruel,
You're just like the rest of the world.

We all have our faults and our setbacks,
I'll lay mine out on the table
Nobody's perfect, but do you even try
Besides acting the "Christian" label?

Your falseness shows through your words,
It bleeds into your speech
I don't need another friend like you,
You **** my life out like a leech.

It's time to put aside childish things,
And start showing the love of Christ.
Make friends with the kid with the hair in his eyes,
Be Jesus' shining light!

So the next time you see someone hurting,
Just try and care a bit.
Your words mean the difference between love and hate,
So let kindness show through you, that's it.
 Apr 2014 AD Sifford
Robert Frost
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
Look within to the dying well
Breathe in the mildew laden air
Who’s to break first?
So hard to walk away

Succumbing to the atmosphere
Within the hand, a coin of hopes and
Dreams. Pay for the brokenness inside.

Pause for a moment, what’s the purpose?
To watch the glass surface
Swallow up a wish?

War within, a raging battle; memories of a shooting star
Shooting towards the cracked sidewalk, broken mirror

Pause for a moment, reflect within, who’s to win
Hope or doubt, aspirations or disbelief?
Throw the coin and watch it fall
Desire has won, faith in optimism restored.

— The End —