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 Jan 2019 courtney
LS Martin
The problem with betrayal is that it never comes from your enemies
 Jan 2019 courtney
Sehar Bajwa
If love were a flower, would she bloom wild from the recesses of my soul?
If love were a jigsaw, would she craft the shards to heal me whole?

If love were a sapling, would she root, in soil and rain to be a mighty tree?
If love were a cloud, would her invigorating elixir breathe new life into me?
                                        
If love were fire, would she char my insides and from the ashes birth a phoenix?
If love were a tsunami, would plunging headfirst be worth the risk?

If love were a Volcano, would it erupt violently, then subside into dormancy?
If love were a Desert, would it’s heat drive away travelers, but staying reward sanctuary?

If love were a River, would it harbor my life towards another direction?
If love were the sun, would it pull me closer just to watch me burn?
My second collab with Austin Draper
It was a wonderful experience and im looking forward to more in the future!
 Jan 2019 courtney
c
Daddy Issues
 Jan 2019 courtney
c
My father
Has been a Man
All his life
And I capitalize Man
Because his terms
Of masculinity
Include being
The Man

He doesn’t like the word
“No”
Unless it’s in his voice
And under his control

Control is his ego
I think
He likes a grip on everything
So tight it chokes us
And he wonders why
I’m slipping away
 Jan 2019 courtney
Preeti Karnwal
I'm different
Whatever I do,
Whatever I say,
Whatever I think,
It's different.
I'm not the sun, I'm not the moon,
I'm not the reflection in the lake.
I'm not the stem, I'm not the root,
I'm not the flower it bores with fate.
I'm different from the sky,
I'm different from the ground,
I'm different from the silence and
I'm different from the loud.
I'm different
In my works,
In my words,
In my actions,
It's all different.
 Jan 2019 courtney
Little Red
One chance to live

a million ways to die

So what is the reason

For us being alive?
Polar opposite of the poem "Point"
 Aug 2015 courtney
RW Dennen
Wood
 Aug 2015 courtney
RW Dennen
There was once a carpenter's son;
he died by his stepfather's profession
about an item made of wood

He died by his stepfather's profession
carrying wood upon his back

He died by his stepfather's profession
with wood touching him
He died by his stepfather's profession
by wood with nails in skin...
Ironically this man of love and peace
who preached peace and
love knew about wood
by his earthly father;
died on wood...
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