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 Dec 2014
jackierutherford
Born Jamaican, to a single mom
Watched her struggle, in that land
Day and night through stress and fears
She worked real hard building tiers

For years, she was our founding rock
Teaching, preaching, assuring with gust

Yeah, she complained
She's only human
That the man wasn't there,
to help us move onward

Now, I'm grown
Facing life
Mirror image of her past life
Struggled with my kids in kind

Hoping for a life devine
 Dec 2014
aviisevil
Tim wasn't the only one infected,
But he was the only one who wasn't turning into a duck.
It had been more than two years of horror,
And almost every part of the world had been struck.

This new disease was carried through the shiny electronic devices,
That had gripped the world in a photogenic way.
Every wall and post reeked of the self centeredness,
And all that led to this last man standing scenario today.

Tim was resisting his fate by throwing away all the devices he could find,
But his hope was slowly degrading, as they were scattered everywhere.
He was experiencing what scientists called as a celebrity syndrome,
The last stage before he would give in, it was almost too hard to bear.

His soul was being crushed within his hundred dollar shirt,
But he was far more inclined to break the mirror in front of his eyes.
The disease was spreading through his arms and hands now,
And in sometime there would be no place left to hide.

Everyone at his school had turned into a duck the other day,
He had seen it from his own eyes, as all his friends got stuck on the web.
Scientists were baffled how it spread impervious of one's religion or faith,
They said the only part recognizable after the infection spreads is the head.

He found his moms name last night too, posted on the wall of lost people.
Tim could only rub his eyes, she was only fifty -five.
He had no clue of what to do, he was already feeling so miserable,
His father had already died, lost sister at twenty-five.

Tim was growing restless by the second, wrestling with his own arms,
But it was too much to handle and finally his hands got free,
He flashed the electronic device at the mirror, it felt warm,
And that's how Tim became the last casualty on earth to catch a selfie.
Notes (optional)
 Dec 2014
Muggle Ginger
The dinner table is crowded.
There are bowls of gravy, potatoes and greens -
Plates of meat and stuffing...
Don’t worry it gets better.
Juice and cider instead of wine.
Clean crystal cups and thick napkins,
All trimmed in blue.
Surrounded by loud elephants
Dancing on the words we don’t say.
The elephants slip on peas,
And sip my drink.
My relatives give glances
Instead of embrace.
The conversation gets heavy
As our stomachs get full.
The dinner table is a stage
Instead of a refuge.
We all wear our masks and pretend we’re OK.
The actors are well paid in self-loathing,
And pain;
Solitude.
Relationships that don’t fit into pockets
Because our phones are too important.
We are broken and shattered,
Unwilling to be fixed.
The elephants dance in gravy,
And pretend it’s a bath.
"At some point it doesn't matter who was right and who was wrong. At some point, being angry is just another bad habit, like smoking, and you keep poisoning yourself without thinking about it.” - Jonathan Tropper
 Dec 2014
Chalsey Wilder
If life were a sea, you could see how many people are drowning, including me.
*Would anybody save them, or is it just me?
Inspiration cx is my muse. Ya dig? Things like this just come to me.
 Dec 2014
Chalsey Wilder
It's hard to talk on the phone
Can't quite focus on what they're saying
Stuttering and stammering for words
At loss for what to say
Then you have the words again
You say the words you mean to say
They come out sounding weak and jagged,
Meek and lame
And you feel useless in the department of speaking
Your heart beats and jumps wildly at the attention you never wanted, the attention that seems to put an untold amount of pressure and judgement upon you
You never feel like talking again, except to maybe voice an opinion someone might actually care about
You panic when someone new talks to you
Heart thumping madly to get out of your chest, telling you to get out of this situation

This is not a cold, not the flu
Not something you can get over too
Hm. Is this good?
 Nov 2014
Kim E Williams
The digital exhale
Pushing out
Content creation and idea regurgitation
Outfacing ideas, concepts
These things become the shell, the defined exterior of us
The fodder for perceptions
Of others
About us
We update, share, ideate and create
We post, pronounce and proclaim
We share with trite exclamations
Cute cats
And clever #hashtags
We spray forth our digital exhale
Hoping
Believing that we will be, become this feed
Of me
Until we are
Out
Of breath
And then
We must, gasping
Pause. Stop.
In the momentary emptiness of ourselves
The frightening hollow
Of our millisecond of solitude
Touches of singularity
Haunting, taunting us
With ourselves
Too much screen time makes me want to scream
 Nov 2014
NARMONSEA
Encased, wrapped by delicate hands,
A gift, for months it had been planned,
For me as a reminder of our connection.

Decorated with glitter and gold,
A deck of painted cards that told,
"52 Things I Like About You."

Colored paper and animal drawings,
A little lovely journal showing,
All the adventures that we've had together.

"You like me. I like you. Let's be together forever.
You were the best thing that's ever happened to me.
Stay with me. You're all I need in this world."


Oh I remember, the thoughts that raced
Through my head whilst in your embrace:

"I want to be with this girl forever.
I want to love her, support her, and be with her
Every moment that I can.
I will stand by her side and take her with me through
Ups, downs and many different hardships.
And we will triumph. Because we have each other.
She was, is and will always be my everything."


I could view a year's worth of memories with you through this gift.
All the happiness, the joy, the laughter and the fun times.

And now I have to throw it away.
Such times end eventually.

It's been half a year since I had no one to embrace.
No hand to hold.
No partner to support.
No one to keep me up on my feet.
No one to catch me when I fall.
No one to stay by my side.

So it shall be, all things must end.
I have to throw this gift away.

Why can't I?

I'm still holding it. Why?
I'm tearing up. Why?
My vision's getting blurry. A stream, a flood.
A cry from the inside, hands shaking.
My emotions are killing me.

Stop. Please.
You're long gone.
Why are you still here with me?


This gift is keeping you here.
I have to throw this away.
I need to throw this away.

But I can't.

*I just can't.
Found an anniversary present from an old flame.
 Nov 2014
Rj
Buttermilk pancakes, fresh off the pan
Returning from the barn, eggs in hand
Nostrils burning, the airs so pure
Pine trees, trails, they're the perfect cure
Woods resembling the appalachian country
Leaves all orange, no, golden like honey
Ancient wooden or old brick homes
Miles of national forest to roam
Trails worn thin by generations of family
I swear, the sun shines brighter, seemingly
Preacher is always dropping by to eat
Lance is out hunting fresh deer meat
And we... we are here to enjoy it all
And occasionally have a trampoline brawl
The point is, this place never feels wrong
Dry Prong, where I feel I truly belong
 Nov 2014
Poetic T
I scribble upon the walls
Blindly
Drawing
Nestled in my belief
That this will speak
The words I was unable to voice,
My clothes were clean when I knelt
But now they are
Stained,
Ripped,
Violated
With the efforts of these scattered
Moments, I express without a voice,
"With out"
"With out"
My mind speaks slower than
The moment past,
I fear this is senseless,
"Undermining
My
Resolution"
Of what is being emotionally
Stained upon this wall,
I grow weaker as this message composed
Of my emotional state,
To me it screams,
"I needed someone"
"But I was a voice lost"
I sign it with a handprint
Static,
Silence
Quiet
Is my body, the ink ran dry
From the pots cut open
"I lie here now"
My message  scribbled upon a canvass
On the naked wall,
It now has a essence of me,
My  story,
My  end,
I was in need, but now I **need no more.
 Nov 2014
Oluwaseun Ogunbiyi
When the heart strives to love
Then it grows weary in its try
For love comes to it naturally
Knowing its feeble feet

But when love seeks the heart
Her ***** surrenders to it
It stands still in its fervent beats
And embraces love with a natural feat

Therefore be calm, tender heart, be calm
Chase not the chaser with frail strides
But be still and resist its charm
Beckon to its pace with your rhythm so sweet
Love is better when it comes naturally
 Nov 2014
Meenu Syriac
Because all her teardrops fell like snowflakes,
And when summer came, they melted into the ground.
Like dew drops hanging in the mist,
She gave what a fairytale needed,
To end the plight.
And with her music she brought tears to his eyes,
With every note that struck air and made life.
But if the stars might burn with all the fiery warmth of her heart
Then they may know all the tears she's wiped with her hand.
The muffled screams, pocketed within the deepest trenches of her heart.
Only a shadow remains where once she knew light,
Because his eyes could hold no more of her sight,
And in every dark alley, pledged his allegiance to the night.
She was once all he had,
But now his soul he sold to the devil's reign.
Slowly slipping into darkness... Her image reflected in his eyes
Judith, like dust, you fly with the passing wind,
*A memory forgotten in his mind.
©Meenu Syriac
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