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 Sep 2015
Mohd Arshad
Aaa
If you stop thinking of your goal,
The ball is kicked by the wind!
Notes (optional)
 Sep 2015
Ann M Johnson
Words of encouragement are like a cool drink on a hot day
     Words of encouragement can chase the blues away
     Words of encouragement are like a warm sweater on a chilly
      May day
     Words of encouragement is something most of us seek
      Words of encouragement is something too few people speak
       Words are a powerful tool they can be used to build people up
        Why not spread words of encouragement today?
 Sep 2015
Mohd Arshad
Two things are always faithful to you: Goodness and knowledge!
Notes (optional)
 Aug 2015
Ann M Johnson
It is often said that the cup can be viewed as half full or half empty
The fact is we should be able to agree on is
    We all have a cup that can be filled
        If we All tried to build another person up
          Fill there cup
            Instead of putting others down
      which can drain ones own cup along with the other persons cup
If you meet another person who appears mean or insensitive or rude
perhaps their cup has been drained so much
They don't know how to fill it up again and are badly in need of having their cup refilled
A small compliment a little kindness, a smile could help fill up the cup again
A cup of friendship can go a long way and help  another person have a better day
The world is full of hurting people needing to have their cup refilled
Seeing things from someone else's perspective is a good start
Is the glass half empty or half full, you can decide?
Have  you raised your glass and tried to share a Cup of friendship
and filled another's cup today?
If not the present is a good time to start
If we all filled up the cup instead of emptying it
We would have a better world
Fill up the cup today
 Aug 2015
Wednesday
When he asks you to purchase a gun for him-
one he is not permitted to have,
say no.
When he asks you to help him saw the serial number off of said gun,
say no.
Hand back his sweaty, clenched-palm, ******* tainted money.
Do not deny him in words,
this will only force him into a blind fit of rage-
One where he throws glass at his apartment walls;
the apartment he pays for with the crime drenched money of his "clients."

2. Do not tell him of your weakness(es).
Do not tell him about the men who touched your inner thighs
when you were waiting for a ride home from the bar
you were never even supposed to be at.
Never ask him for help.
Do not let yourself owe him anything.
When he tells you that you have "daddy issues" written on your face,
play kind.
Do not utter the word pervert aloud.
Do not make it clear that you know he touches you
when he thinks you are drunk and asleep.

3. When he asks you to tell him how you really feel about him,
deny your obsessions.
His emotions will not, can not duplicate your own.
Do not feed his already overflowing ego.
When he tells you "do not touch me", let him pull from your grasp.
Do not take it personally, fight your feelings, quiet your desires, shrug.
Laugh it off, check your phone.
Play coy, know that even a woman like YOU cannot pull off
desperation with a simple smile.

4. On the occasional nights he texts you at 12,1,3 am
and asks you to come over, say yes.
Allow him to take you, make you moan, swallow him.
Touch him, taste him.
Mesh your bodies like a woven basket and feel his sweat pool
on the bone between your *******.
Do not make it personal when he smiles while deep inside of you.
Never take it personally when he holds you close,
your naked flesh touching in a way that almost makes you burn.
Smell him, let his scent linger.
Press your face into his tattooed back, curl your fingers around his
chiseled arms, his thick black hair.
Feel him, but do not make this personal.
You are just another empty thing in his bed.
You are not quite sure how much is left of you,
but you both know he will **** it until it is long gone.

5. When he asks you to keep a safe of his product in your apartment,
bat your lashes.
When he offers you money to do it, smile.
When he whispers he might be getting followed,
when he tells you he will be murdered soon,
when his tires get slashed,
do not laugh. Do not say anything.
Remind yourself that this is all rhetorical. This is his game.
When the city comes creeping, comes knocking,
pretend it is normal.
When he triple bolts his doors- even his bedroom door and windows,
do not comment.
When you feel knives under your pillow and a gun under his,
pretend you didn't. Roll over. Ignorance is bliss.

6.When he spends days locked in his room and comes out smelling of
a box of magna champa incense and marijuana smoke,
stab wounds in his thigh, say nothing.
Patch his injuries, stifle his excuses.
Wet the rags, be ready with gauze and bandages.
When he calls you after a week of silence and tells you of his blood lust,
tell him of yours.
When he tells you of his pain, his sadness, his regrets, just listen.
Fight him in his kitchen with soft fists and deadened eyes.
Do not surrender, even when he pins you in a choke hold
a bit too long to be alright.
Stand your ground. Stare at the tiled floor.
Never take him at face value when he is like this.

7. He will tell you about his surely upcoming death,
how he is close to dying, obviously.
You will tell him how every time you pass the bridge on
your way home, you think of driving your car off of it.
he will look at you with poison in his expression.
Realize you do not know the color of his iris. Do not figure it out.
Know you are not the only, never will be the one.
You cannot change him, cannot fix him.
He has been a prisoner since he has been a son.
Remind yourself he has been behind bars for
longer than you have been alive.
He has no idea why the caged bird sings,
and he does not give a
**** about what Maya Angelou has to say.
He has fought too long and hard trying to break free.
To write is to release,
For speaking is awaiting critique,
Words on paper- give them thought,
They'll give you peace.
No reply needed.
Words in the air however, they seek ears,
Firing a response, be it helpful or not.

No.

Put it in words. Just for you.
 Jul 2015
Hannah Bauer
I remember a time some summers back.
Brother and sister climb into the bath tub,
bathing suits on,
ready to relax and have fun.

Brother wasn't always so nice to sister.
He yelled things, terrible things.
He hit hard, awfully hard.
He said he didn't know his own strength.

Sister doesn't know if he meant physically or emotionally.

But that day was good.
It was a day of sun and water.

Brother wanted to see how long sister could hold her breath.
So she went down.
Underwater where the sounds echo and distort.
She waited.

Sister came up a half minute later.

Suddenly, brother pushed sister back under.
Sister had barely gotten a breath in.
Sister waited a few seconds.
Then it got hard to breathe.

Sister pushed her brother.
Started pushing
against his arm.

Sister cried:
"Brother,
let
me
breathe."

Brother released sister's head.
Brother laughed at my tears.
Brother scoffed my fear.

Brother never said "sorry".


Today, years later, the story is the same.
Only now,
the water is depression
and the brother
is
my
family.
Unfortunately, this is a true story. Wish I made it up.
 Jul 2015
South by Southwest
I once arose before the dawn
To seek a reason to go on
I kissed the rising sun just for fun
And set out on my merry way

It might have been a Tuesday now
I saw the grazing Holstein cow
A ship that had run aground it's bow
But no reason for this beautiful day

I walked along the concrete streets
I talked to strangers in bare feet
I queried everyone I'd meet
But no one could give me the OK

I swam across the snake filled river
I took bee's honey with a dibber
It made my stomach ache and quiver
So I lay down on the sands by the Bay

A horseshoe crab came racing by
He had no time for my questions why
Then I spied the hermit crab go sly
As he withdrew deep into his shell

Then the porpoise jumped and laughed
When I was quick to ask
They flashed off and left me daft
To the questions that I quelled

A sea turtle stroked on through
Eating up the jellyfish they do
But his conceit just left me blue
When he told me to go to Hell

I raised up my eyes to the air
Seagulls were flying everywhere
But they left white in my hair
That's when the hammer hit the nail

I then knew the secret to life
There would no longer be all that strife
Confusion was cut in two like a knife
I drew my gun and the seagulls fell

So the answer is ,
Don't let anyone **** on you
 Jul 2015
Ann M Johnson
I like to take a dip in the poetry well
when my life seems to be dry
I like to take a dip in the poetry well
when I question why
I like to take a dip in the poetry well
when I lost the courage to try something new
I like to take a dip in the poetry well
when I need encouragement then I get it from you
I like to take a dip in the poetry well
to ease some anxiety
I like to take a dip in the poetry well
let my emotions swell
I take to take a dip in the poetry well
while holding paper and a pen
I like to take a dip in the poetry well
where inspiration never ends
I like to take a dip in the poetry well
where I can gather with my friends
This is for All My Hello Poetry Friends!!!!
Thank You so much for your friendship and encouragement!!!
 Jun 2015
Steele
There are 10 kinds of people in this world,
and binary accounts for them all.

They're happy and sad.
They're ones and zeros.
Villains and heroes.
Villains, yet not all bad.
Despite everything life decides to hurl;
Despite every brick ball of fear
Through the stained glass windows of their minds,
Through it all, they survive.
They're angry and glad.
They're happy and sad.

And in their duality, they're still smiling there
at your sharp hasty words
at your venomous hurt
that you wish so desperately they, too, shared.
Love thy enemy.

Special thanks to Kelley A Vinal for the binary inspiration. You can read her poetry here: http://hellopoetry.com/kelley-a-vinal/

It's pretty solid.

Edit: Holy Daily, Batman! Wow, I'm so honored. Glad you all like it so much! :D
 Jun 2015
SøułSurvivør
---

on a hill stood wicked tree
a single root, branches three

one branch was war
one branch was want
one branch was greed
horrid haunt

its root was pride
its power great
acid soil of perfect hate

its bark like scabs
sulfuric green
a stunted growth
twisted . mean

lichen of ignorance
crusted there
on the north side
of despair

black mushrooms
sprouted from its pores
growing from
starvation's spores

and yet it thrived and gave its fruit
they were put forth by the root

these carried seeds to plant in season
they want it growing for some reason

they plant it lone upon a hill
where it can grow
it's growing
still

it grows from you
it grows from me
we feed that hateful

wicked tree


soulsurvivor
rewritten
(c) 6/13/2015
first draft 2014
when will we water
LOVE
?

---
 Jun 2015
Savannah Becker
Time is such a treasure 
That's quicker lost than found
And when it's gone you search again
For whatever's left around

A second seems like nothing 
When you have plenty to spare 
You never learn to value them
Until they just aren't there

A minute isn't that much more
So you toss them left and right 
And then you're scrambling to find
Enough for one more night 

An hour can be wasted 
As easily as breath or speech 
But when you have to count them down
You learn to make the most of each 

In the end I find it easier 
To always value time 
To cherish every single second 
Of every moment that you're mine
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