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 Mar 2014 RA
Shanelle Galloway
The cats get the Cradle
the beetles get the bread
and the cherry-cheeked children,
the children
all are dead

The world is growing smaller
the Sun is getting hotter
it is all a fault of ours
a fault of ours so faulty
falling gently, screaming, kicking
to the ground
so we give

The cats the Cradle
the beetles get the Bread
and the cherry-cheeked children,
the children
all are dead

Men are exploding
children are smoking–
smoking needles
eating beetles
black and pink
Beatles
The Beatles all are dead
not the legend, just the passion
so instead we give

The cats the Cradle
and the beetles to the bread
and the cherry-cheeked children
the children
all are dead

because the world
turned upside-down
all together, upside down

sons in shoe-heels
lipstick jungles
deep violet secrets
girls in pants
panting
running from understanding caring
claiming you are open-minded
too open-minded to mind
the option
of a closed mind
so instead,
**** the trees for

the cat’s cradle
feed the beetles to the bread
since all the cherry-cheeked children
and their childhood:
all dead.
 Mar 2014 RA
purple orchid
This madness to love
Stealthy is almost suicidal

Temptations and
Intentions blurred in a
World where you are mine

Pervesity is seductive
But honesty ruins the ambiance
You are forbidden
 Mar 2014 RA
Cathyy
Autobiography
 Mar 2014 RA
Cathyy
When i was 6, i wanted to be something i completely made up in my head.. A 'space ninja pirate undercover superhero with wizardry powers' of some sort, and so i became just that.

&When; i was 10, i grew out of that and grew into the idea of being just an 'ordinary girl' with ordinary clothes and ordinary hair, no extraordinary powers of any sort, and so i became just ordinary.

But when I was 12, i grew tired of being like everyone else. I wanted to create something original for myself. And so i took a pen and an old Disney notepad and wrote all my random daydreams down, and so i became a dreamer and that was that.

However, at 14. I started to care a little too much. Gave my heart away freely and brought myself cheap love. My hair was far too ordinary and my imagination was far too weird,
' if i don't start shaving now, by 16 i'll have a beard ' and so self conscious i became, and that was that for that year.

Now i'm at 16, and i'm starting NOT to care, my daydreams have got me this far and i embrace my messy hobo like hair.. It's tricky though.
'Cause if i were to be honest, i'd say this;;
At 16, i want to touch people with my words but not become a 'poet'
I want people to relate to my music but i don't want to be a musician
I want to get over my depression
But i dont want to feel perfect
I kinda want to run away
But at the same time i want to always have a reason to stay.
Personal, needed to emotionally vent#
 Mar 2014 RA
Yoni Sav
How do I?
 Mar 2014 RA
Yoni Sav
How do you tell someone you love
that you love them so much
thats you can't even tell them
how much you love them?
 Mar 2014 RA
i
bubble baths
 Mar 2014 RA
i
at age five,
her bath is full of bubbles
and happiness.
yellow ducks floating
on the surface,
make her young soul
happy.

at age ten,
her bath is not
full of bubbles.
she does not take baths
anymore.
she showers now,
because it's faster,
and forgettable,
just like life should be.

at age fifteen,
her bath is not full of bubbles,
again.
but now, she sits in the tub,
only dull water surrounding
her body.
on the surface there
are no more yellow ducks,
they are now replaced by flowers,
which are ripped out from the hard ground along with the root,
*just like she was ripped
out from her silly dream,
along with her insane mind.
and she lived her miserable life,
just like this,
just how she did now.
 Mar 2014 RA
Mikaila
Thousands of miles
And four hours away
Somebody stopped and watched you playing your music
And said,
"Thank you for smiling."
And I finally discovered
What I should have said to you
The moment I first met you.

All the hurting I do
Wondering and worrying
If I'll ever feel the warmth of your sunlight again,
It's all about that,
It's all
Because I am just afraid
You'll never smile at me again.
It doesn't make sense,
It's not explainable.
It's a happiness I have never felt before
And do not expect
To feel very often in my turbulent life.
It is a joy that stops the mind,
Save for one thought:
Don't
Go.

It's what that man saw
Walking by.

Maybe that man is sad.
Maybe his life has him down,
And he hates his job,
Or he is fighting with his wife,
Or his dog just died.
Or maybe it's even worse.
Maybe that man
Has just had the worst years of his life
Drag him helpless behind them
To hit the ground hollow over and over
Like a tin can dangling from a dingy car bumper on the highway.
Maybe he has only just
Stood up again.
You don't know.
How brilliant, you don't know!
Because he could be any of those things,
But you
Made him smile.
You
Gave him hope.
You
Had such an effect on him
With just your smile
That he stopped,
And thanked you.

I wish I had done that when I first saw your face.

Maybe today
You only made that man's good day
A little better.
Or maybe today
Your smile
Saved his **** life.
You have no idea.
That's the point.
I know what that man saw.
I envy him painfully.
I know how it feels
To be smiled at
By you.
All the poems I've written you,
All the nights I've spent sleepless
Afraid to lose the little tiny moment of you I got,
All the time I've set aside for you,
That's why.
I want to thank you
For smiling at me.
If everything from here on in my life
Crumbles like wet chalk
And I lose any chance I might have
To thank you otherwise,
I consider it worth it.
I consider your smile
Worth all of it.
 Mar 2014 RA
Mikaila
I don't go to church
Nor do I want to.
I don't believe
In anything in particular.
And yet the word god
Shows up in my poetry like it's put there intentionally.
It isn't.
Perhaps it is just that god
Is a perfect metaphor for how I love
And in trying to explain it,
The zeal of religion is the best comparison I can think of.
In fact
It makes me wonder,
If we are in god's image,
Is god
Like us?
Maybe that is why our prayers are seldom answered-
Maybe whatever god there is
FEARS us, for loving it so devotedly.
Maybe god is not dead.
Maybe god has fled.
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