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 Nov 2017 gr
kyss
the panic
 Nov 2017 gr
kyss
my chest is getting tight
the walls are closing in
my whole body is shaking
i wish i could die
i can't breathe
i can't think straight
    i need to get out
i need to get out
help.
 Nov 2017 gr
Waverly
That Nigger.
 Nov 2017 gr
Waverly
Who Am I?

Well,
I must be
that ******,
the one
in the black hoodie
***** sweatpants
and an uncombed eye,
that's always wooly
scratchy,
bloodshot
with searching for
my stash spot,
that ******
in your peripherals
that you keep your eye on
because he's
not
in a polo
looking nice,
talking
"well-spoken"
and
not
a threat
to your beautiful
lily-white daughter.


Because I grew up
fixing myself
ramen noodles
and
lifting the welcome mat
after school,
I must also be
that ******
whose father wasn't
in the same house
until he was age 13,
and when I tell you that,
you weren't expecting it
because "you're not a racist."
but
you weren't surprised.


You see,
I must be
that ******,
a stand-in
for all other *******.
I must be that ******
who represents
all *******,
not because you are racist,
but because I'm the only
******
you've met
who doesn't talk like
dis, y'know whatmsayin,
and i talk like
this, do you know what I'm saying?
I must be that ******.

In order for you
to feel okay
being around me
I must be that ******
who goes to college
does the right
thing
the white thing
and gets a job
a nice little house,
a nice black wife
with a nice
new england
clear
dialect,
(what I was
trying to get at
earlier
is that ****** dialects,
by their mere intonation,
denote stupidity,
right?)
and doesn't say a word
when his white friends
make ****** jokes
or talk in a ****** dialect
mocking some Aunt Jemima
they heard at Walmart.

But,
I also must be that ******
who doesn't step out of line
and say
"WHY IS IT
THAT IN EVERY SINGLE
ENGLISH CLASS
WE READ
ONLY
TWO
BLACK AUTHORS
A SEMESTER,
AND THAT'S
ENOUGH,
JUST ENOUGH
TO KEEP THE
****** PARENTS
HAPPY."

And If I happen to be a ******,
I,
by all means,
must not be that ******
who had a white girlfriend,
and
this girlfriend
after dating
a ******,
tried to date a white guy
she liked,
and when she told him
that she had dated,
loved,
and yes,
******
a ******,
he had said back:
"I can't believe
you ****** a ******."

Then again,
I must be that ******
with the big swinging ****
able to destroy
a white girl's ******
with its pulverizing
power.

And,
please,
If I am going to be a ******
don't be the one
who writes a poem
about
having to be
that ******,
because those
kinds of *******
are being
over-sensitive,
those dashiki-wearing-*******
who think
"Da white man dis."
and "Da white man dat."

Because
I am not one of those *******
descended from the first people on earth,
your brother,

not in the ****** way,

but the familial,
species way.

Why am I even writing
this, ****** isn't a main operative
word anymore.

Search and find "******"
and
replace with
"Black Guy." That way it becomes
a joke.
 Nov 2017 gr
Sprkinthedrk
If you were to ask me
“where does beauty come from?”
i would say what you might not believe
“why, beauty comes from lips and fingertips,
what do you think?”
Aren’t what people say and what people create the true beauty in them?
 Nov 2017 gr
CharlesC
These come
as sunrise or memory
or hurricane
from where we know not
seemingly from out there
in this or that locality..
We back away..
We do know that
a thought
merely passes through
and very soon departs..
In passing it colors
what we recognize as
I am here and now...
 Nov 2017 gr
s
ice cream (haiku)
 Nov 2017 gr
s
i am an ice cream.
the way you look at me is
just so hot, i melt.
 Dec 2016 gr
beth fwoah dream
whispers of sea
where the cold storm
gathers in the grey
sky, and the waves
pound the shore
running back
pushing down
arching like
fiery cats,
the ache of the storm
a tearful cloud
the song of
a poem.
thank you to all my friends at this website for their continued support of one of the things i love in this world which is poetry. i've only just realised this is the daily today and i just wish i had more spare time at the moment to write and review. thank you again to everyone.
 Dec 2016 gr
Dahlya
The End
 Dec 2016 gr
Dahlya
I don’t know what’s coming
The silence is clear
Sharp and painful
And nobody’s near.
I came to get hurt
To be torn apart
With shattered worth
And a broken heart.
I crave the pain
Deep in my skin
Creating warmth
As the darkness seeps in.
There is no telling
What is to come
My mind is racing
And my heart is numb.
I’m a very small piece
On the large scale
Unable to be seen
So I am bound to fail.
The walls are bland
As I look around
For a part of me
That cannot be found.
What will happen
When I see the light
And my soul disappears
Into the night.
 Dec 2016 gr
Maya
Struggle
 Dec 2016 gr
Maya
Sometimes I feel like writing
but sometimes it takes days,
for me to think of something
and bring the pen to page.
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