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 Apr 2015
kayla morrison
Caaaarpe

*caaarpe

...
Caarpe Diem

Keating whispered
He whispered.

in Delay there lies no plenty
Shakespeare warned,

gather ye rosebuds while ye may
Herrick advised.

We don’t
whisper, warn or advise

Generation Y
PROCLAIMS!

We shout, strong, sure and proud
YOLO

We chant, graffiti, hastag
YOLO

We get
one shot one opportunity
to seize everything in we ever wanted in one moment


**** the romantics,.
The critics, the experts, the analyzers too.

YOLO
Who says we can’t be prophetic,
Philosophical,
Beautiful?


This is us,
Our time
our chance,
so

let’s make the most of the night like we’re gunna die young.

It is our excuse.

The reason I hit the gas
rev the engine and slam it to the floor.
With squealing tires,
loud exhausts and smoky exits
You can hear me
we are young so lets set the world on fire we can burn brighter than the sun.

We need to do this now,
before the light in our eyes,
light of our lives,
go out.

YOLO

The reason we face mountains
of debt with a smile.

The face we put on
brave, ready, awake
when the bill collectors call,
the healthcare goes into reform
and the government shuts down.

YOLO

This moment, we own it
this second in a catalogue
of years.
The months we spend crashing cars, bars and acting like stars.

YOLO

The reason we apply for jobs,
we’ll never get.
Taking rejection with a grin
we will always try again.

YOLO

it is the reason I joined the race.
After all,

You.
Only.
Live.
Once.

-Kayla Morrison
 Apr 2015
kayla morrison
Who are you?
Why do you haunt even my dreams,
penetrating my most personal momens?
My heart races because of you,
mind runs wild,
I accuse, abuse and lose
myself.
How is it that I am held
by an unexplicable fear
parlyzed, cold and alone
When your near, yet
you lend open and guiding hands
Gently lulling me
into a state of blistful insanity
 Apr 2015
kayla morrison
People say they want to live in a small town,
but when I look out my window
all I see is
Zero.

I look out my left window,
Zero.

I glance out my right window,
Zero.

The daily routines,
an Act Without Words.

We go through the motions in a small town,
get up, smile at people we hate,
hope for something more,
repeat.

In a small town
you bite your tongue,
just to keep the peace.
Did you bleed today?

There’s no point in asking
how someone is
because we already know.

Each new piece of gossip
strings us along,
Beckons
teases.


The small town will hold
anything over your head.
It will dangle a divorce
suspend a separation
and hang up a hook up.

In a small town,
the space between people’s teeth
revealed by their fake smiles
serve as cre-
Nells

People rave about the
fields of grass, and the trees.
In each patch of green
lies un lucky Clov-
ers
The fresh air is fetid.
The stink of the town’s
***** laundry is
enough to make
any argument for the town Null.
Zero.
It’s almost genetic,
the little Nagg-
lings in the school yard,
slicing, dividing, cutting
people like cake.

Settling for small town life,
is a fate worse than Hamm-
lets think about it.

No excitement.
No privacy.
No trust.
Zero.
 Apr 2015
b for short
Dear, hold your heart close.
Avoid bulls in china shops;
their thrill is short-lived.
© Bitsy Sanders, April 2015
 Apr 2015
wordvango
lord one day,
these kaleidoscopic visions
will tip my tongue become
ink stained virgins
with

so portray
telescope out sideways
will tilt my wrong to right
sink blame urgent
then

I say when
I write dope out my pens
still the long night torments
feel whole spend
the

whirling round in
a convenient way
so left on the
right of wrong the
correct verbs
the right way/
 Apr 2015
kayla morrison
I'm not.

My Dad thinks I should
be out burning bras
showing off unshaved legs
parading through the streets "like the gays."

I do not.

I remember talking in highscool
about my imaginary rich husband,
and never working again.

                                                My Dad does not.

He remembers panicking in hischool
telling me not to be a cheerleader
asking "why can't girls play on he football team?"

                                  My Dad does not realize,

I don't want to burn my
Victoria's Secret push up bra,
I want to shave my legs.

My dad thinks
the only person who
can decide whether
or not
to keep a baby
is a woman.

I do not.

A baby-life
is created by a
man and a woman.

It should take a
man and a woman to decide.

                               My Dad does not realize it,

He thinks I am a product of
the patriarchy,
a victim to the crime.

but,

I don't want to
march down the streets of Boston,
****.

Because I know some women,
cry **** when its a lie.

I know some men,
who cant cry
for help,
because **** is a woman's issue.

                    My Dad does not realize it hurts,

because
I am not a feminist,
I am an equalist.

I believe in
mutual respect,
choice,
balance.

Stay at home moms
and
Stay at home dads.

   My dad does not realize it hurts the cause to be a "feminist"

My dad is a feminist,
I am not.
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