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poems are not all
sunshine and
rainbows

sometimes,
just sometimes
we have to ****
in the bathroom
sink of beauty
to find out how
repulsive it can be
underneath

I find the soap ****
of the shower drain
to be more enriched
with adorning features
than the palm trees
of florida

art
and all forms of it
are inexhaustible,
you could never
take that away,
including this
ugly
ugly
ugly
poem
Art needs its balance
 Oct 2016
lulu
"i'm sorry."**

the two words you uttered that night
the two words that still haunt me today
and the two words i never knew i needed to hear

did you mean it?
were you sorry for leaving me?
were you sorry for allowing your ego to overcome what we had?
were you sorry for what we had?

well, i'm sorry too.

i'm sorry for fighting for you
even when i knew it wasn't right

i'm sorry for holding you back
when you could've been happier with her

i'm sorry for loving you
when i knew you weren't for me
 Sep 2016
Oona
In this story,

she’s made of only blood, flesh, and bone. Her pair of
white-hot eyes trail down polycarbonate
bodies like liquor over skin, yes, I’m moving to
New York next weekend. Yes, I’m very excited.
She’s a
simmering bowl of office clerk and
caesius veins, swimming, always swimming.

It’s not like she has a lot of *** or anything, though she
likes bodies against bodies and the smell of
salt and sweat and gasps and heaves and
the thrill. 40s jazz and pill-shaped
freckles; she pulls her sweater down over her hands,
tries to calm down a heart that'll never stop
beating.

God. Yes. Yes to whiskey, yes to the new car, yes to falling
asleep without eating dinner. It’s about the new, the news, the
ivy and the flowers and the way that roses are so beautiful and yet they are
covered in thorns and green is a very pretty color until
jealousy turns everything brown and rotten and it’s all about the

way Venus fly traps are so wonderful and so so cruel.
 Apr 2016
John F McCullagh
This is not a Love song

It was never meant to be.

Two hearts so very different

were bound to break eventually.



Only leave me with the memory

Of the day we kissed goodbye

Perhaps not much for me to live on

But please forgive me if I try.



This is not a Love song

It was never meant to be.

Two hearts so very different

were doomed to fail eventually.



I am not a poet,

I can barely hold a tune

Still, I vividly remember

Lying breathless in your room.

  

This is not a Love song

It was never meant to be.

Two hearts so very different

were bound to break eventually.



So leave me with a memory

Of the day we said goodbye

Maybe someday I’ll stop loving you

But it will be the day I die.
O.K. so maybe I lied...
 Apr 2016
Emily Dickinson
1565

Some Arrows slay but whom they strike—
But this slew all but him—
Who so appareled his Escape—
Too trackless for a Tomb—
 Apr 2016
Antoinette G
This silver sunlight reflecting brightly on to this evening it’s glowing if it fills me with wonder
I question my ability to ever understand the glory of the light that shines in the morning
The radiant rays that shine on me so brightly warming me like only a mother’s hug had before
Bringing with it the beginning of a new day
But what can I say I'm a fool for these types of things I stand in the darkness waiting for the light
Those reds, oranges, and pinks on a bright blue sky
That means a new day has arrived I wish that I could be like this sky
Starting a fresh everyday
But here I lay
Watching
The sunrise
 Apr 2016
Antoinette G
I am from* sketch pads, from books and monopoly
I am from the cozy little green house where my sisters and I would play in the yard all day. And lay to watch the stars at night
I am from the dandelion, the garden in which my mom tried to grow flower that never sprouted
I am from grandma got ran over by a reindeer sipping hot chocolate on Christmas eve and crazy wildness, from Stephanie, Hannah, Jordan, Micaila, Micah, and Emmanuel
I am from the singers and the fashionistas
I am from “you can be anything you want to be.” And “don’t let anyone tell you you’re not beautiful.”
I am from singing amazing grace and dancing to gospel pop from the church
I am from Atlanta, Georgia a true peach, mac and cheese on special occasion, and homemade tuna burgers with halondais
From the woman that could have gone to any college in Georgia, but had me instead
I am from the trophies for anything and everything, from scholar awards, and Letterman’s jacket
 Apr 2016
Antoinette G
Me
I was never so sure
That someone could ever care
If someone was pure
Always willing to share

But although I seem to have come so far
My life being an endless test
I still have a many scar
From me trying to be the best

My voice which I use so powerfully when I’m singing
Is the voice of a soul that is ever weary
Working so hard to fulfill this inner child’s forever dreaming
Can sometimes be very dreary

For what is the point of even trying?
If all it will cease with me dying?
#me
 Apr 2016
Antoinette G
My mind is Wonderland
A place were nothing makes sense
Where I slay a Jabberwocky made up of bad thoughts
The Red Queen is my self-doubt
Who shouts "Off with their heads" to every solider of self-confidence who arises
The Mad Hatter my own madness
Where I shrink so I can't be seen
Or grow to outshine everyone else
Where I paint roses red with my own blood
Where everyone and everything is c
Crazy
And it’s easy to forget the path you had once chosen
Were the Cheshire cat is who inspires me to smile on cue
I can't imagine anyone but myself
Surviving in my mind
For they are not me
And who could survive wonderland other than Alice herself
 Apr 2016
Antoinette G
I smile as you come to be
I cry as you take the last breathe you'll ever breathe
I watch as you grow
I observe how you become the person you always wanted to be
I laugh when your happy
I wail when your hurt
I am the pain in your chest when he leaves
I am the weightlessness you feel when he says I love you
I am the highs
I am the lows
I am every memory
I am every thought
I am you
been away for a while but I will start posting my new poems asap
 Dec 2015
William Shakespeare
Be wise as thou art cruel; do not press
My tongue-tied patience with too much disdain,
Lest sorrow lend me words and words express
The manner of my pity-wanting pain.
If I might teach thee wit, better it were,
Though not to love, yet, love, to tell me so,
As testy sick men, when their deaths be near,
No news but health from their physicians know.
For if I should despair, I should grow mad,
And in my madness might speak ill of thee,
Now this ill-wresting world is grown so bad,
Mad slanderers by mad ears believèd be.
    That I may not be so, nor thou belied,
    Bear thine eyes straight, though thy proud heart go wide.
 Oct 2015
Antoinette G
When I was younger
My mother told me that my
father was a superhero
That he was off saving the world from bad people
When in all reality he was off starting another family

When I was younger
My mother  would work day and night
Just so I could have a  happy life
But I always noticed that he wasn't there
Not for a birthday,christmas,
or first day of a new school year

When I was younger
My mother would tell me all these stories
About how she had her life planned out
Was going to do something amazing
Until she had me
Though she assured me I was more special than all
those things

When I was younger
My mother was a role model to me
She showed me what a real women was suppose to be
She never let me forget how much she loved me
Always there with a smile or a kiss
A shoulder to cry on, a hand to grasp when I felt weak

When I was younger
My mother would sing me to sleep
And if I had a bad dream
She'd crawl into my tiny little bed to sleep with me
Holding me tightly and letting me know
She wouldn't ever let me go

When I was younger
My mother would tell me
I could be anything in the world that I wanted to be
Even took me to go see
all the weird medical stuff that interested me
Bought me models and helped me
to learn that knowledge is power

When I was younger
My mother would sit with me for hours
After a hard day of work and listen to me chatter
About politics and news and all types of matters
That shouldn't have concerned a little girl
But my mom knew that her little girl
was going to change the world

When I was younger
My mother would encourage me to be myself
Helped me up when I fell
Dusting me off and sending me on my way
Knowing that I'd be okay
As long as she was there to make everything better

When I was younger
My mother would hang up every award
and display every trophy
Was there for every spelling bee,
chess tournament,
speech contest,
science fair,
concert,
art show,
dance routine, and
parade
Cheering me on
Proud of what her baby had done

When I was younger
And even now that I'm older
My mother has and always will be a constant in my life
Someone who never let's me down
Can turn my moods around
A shoulder
A pillar
A model
A fan
She has always done the best she can
And who could ask for more than that
Not me
When I was younger
a poem for my mom
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