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 Mar 2015 Bb Maria Klara
Sometimes I write words that I think are perfect and mighty

but when I read your words ,they ******* me ,they make me feel like a nonsense trying to make sense

They make me Wonder, why should i call  me a poet
With words that don't rhyme  
or flow

But again I believe that this words are perfect and mighty
they gave me hope
I found peace whenever I wrote them
I floated like a feather and forgot my permanent scars
with these words am a Knight and a hero
what are you with your words
My best poem'll be my suicide note
the very last thing I ever wrote
a goodbye to those who don't even care
but those I love, because life's unfair.
But this ain't it it's not good enough
but I swear one day I write the right stuff
and it'll be goodbye to the whole world
and so comes the darkness, black wings unfurled
 Feb 2015 Bb Maria Klara
Joe Cole
Yes you are the kids
You are the future of poetry
I've had my day
Reveled in the glory
But the Baton must be passed
To you, the young, the beautiful
Who write the words
.And so I fade into glory
My time here is done
I ask the young ones here
To make sure the the flag is flown
 Feb 2015 Bb Maria Klara
Joe Cole
Traveling in the last hours of darkness
Down this long and dusty road
Looking up I see the moon so full
On her journey through the night

I want to leave my earth bound life
And on her take a ride
For she is traveling westward
And would take me to your side

I continue on my lonely way
The sound of road noise in my ears
But if I could ride upon that golden orb
It would wipe away the years

To ride the road of the milky way
To your side where I belong
No radio or CD playing
Just the sound of angels songs

Is it just a dream I'm dreaming
Or could it become reality
To be with you my own sweet love
Just us, just you, just me
I never think much about the fact that I am black.
I know I am black.
Like I know I am a girl,
Like I know I am an American,
Like I know I am nineteen.
It is a fact; I am black.

I hate when people say I am not.
My parents are black.
Their parents are black.
We are black.
Look at my skin,
It's dark and it's beautiful.
How could I not be black?
I am black.

I hate when people say I don't 'act' black.
How does one act to be considered black?
How am I acting? How is it not black?
Look at my skin,
It's dark and it's beautiful.
How could I not act black?
I am black.

I hate when people say I speak like a white person.
A way of speaking is not exclusive to race.
I am not white.
I do not speak like a white person.
My words are coming out of my black mouth.
I speak properly,
The way my black parents raised me to.
Look at my skin,
Its dark and it's beautiful.
How could I not speak black?
I am black.

I HATE when people say I am a white person trapped in a black body.
I have NEVER heard anything more insulting.
I am NOT trapped.
This color is NOT a cell.
I wear it proudly.
Look at MY skin,
It is DARK and it is BEAUTIFUL!
How could I ever be trapped?
I am black.

I am in no way white,
Nor do I ever want to be.
I am black
And black is beautiful
I am black; that is never going to change.
In something of a chaotic stupor,
the Moon tells me
(among other things)
to be nice to people
because you can never know
what they're going through,
if you'll ever see them again-
or if you're the last person they'll ever see.
you may as well practice kindness
with every being you meet
no matter for how long.

You never quite know.
You just might make someone's day.
You just might save someone's life.

Worst case scenario, you're being nice,
and that's not really so bad, after all.
I liked that you liked my poetry, true.
But I didn't write poems to impress you.
I wrote because of what you made me feel
I wrote so I could remember it was real
I wrote because the emotion was too great
So I still write even though I'm too late
I can't change your mind
not with my words, no matter how kind.
But I still write, because I still must
because I still feel, though all is dust.
I also made you a promise, one I intend to keep
and so this poem you're reading now, is what my heart does weep.
Work so hard
at what you love
that your idols
become your rivals.
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