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Irene Poole Sep 2018
I think I’m angry
With you
The double dichotomy of words
Both with and at
All encompassing the ever growing redundancies of phrase upon fragile phrase
Hand upon hand
Your hand a sliver in my heart
It beats
Beats like a funeral drum as the fires and pyres are lit
Beats like fists on chests
A piercing war cry
“Cry for help,
No one will hear you” stuck in the quicksand
:a fly in honey:
“Oh honey what have you done?”
I think I’m angry
With you
I’m angrier without you
  Dec 2017 Irene Poole
i will not



a p a r t

to make someone else

Irene Poole Nov 2017
Passing headlights paint-
ing highways down shuttle aisles,
Whitney wants to dance.
This came to me when I was on the bus to the mall tonight and Whitney Houston's "I Wanna Dance With Somebody" was playing on the radio. Even the littlest moments in life can be poetic.
Irene Poole Oct 2017
I was trying to start
 a conversation, an education:
a way to reach the dark-hearted ignorance
 and nurse it back to health in knowledge
my consequential words
slammed against your brick-walled brain
the china shop to your bull-
Wasn't sure if I was going to post this, due to the political nature, but here it is. Sometimes all the work you put in to a well-crafted argument seems futile when pitted against an uneducated and close-minded opponent, but it is still important to try and have conversations with people who have opposing views from you. I felt like this feeling was better expressed in a poem than in an angry Facebook rant, thus this poem.
Irene Poole Oct 2017
Do you ever feel like you're in a fantasy land?

Like the sky is just a bit too blue
The grass is too green
The clouds are too perfect
And the shadow of that lamp-post 
Falls at the exact angle so that 
Everything seems painted on, if only for a second? 

Then you look around
See little imperfections upon the passersby
a wrinkle
a cough
a lop-sided grin

These little flaws make us real
Make us human.

And so the fantasy land flickers and fades
bringing you back to the beautiful reality. 

You are here.
Sometimes the world seems so beautiful it can't be real, but it is! So take a minute to appreciate your surroundings.
  Oct 2017 Irene Poole
Domestic destruction
People are breathing their last breaths
But we will call it
civilian casualty

Bullets ringing like bells through the air
Bones cracking like the whips we have "long since" retired

A terrorist without the skin tone
Or the turban
Is called

We keep the death toll
Like keeping score

Pointing fingers
But never at home team

The flag is colored
Red with our blood
White like our pride
And blue like our sorrow

And you boo when people kneel
Seeing them pushed down by the weight of the injustices we perpetuate
****** you off

Because people died for that flag
Like the unnamed slaves-turned-soldiers
Who never had a choice when bullets littered their backs
Dying for a country they didn't ask to be in

The taking knees
Doesn't honor that proud history
It doesn't fit the status quo
The picture of
America the brave
And home of the free(d)

The freedom of speech
Our favorite card to play
Until someone has something important to say

So build the wall ten feet higher

We gave children dreams
now we ship back the dreamers
To a land they never dreamt of

Ten feet higher

We shot unarmed kids in the back
Blaming the bullet
Not the blue who pulled the trigger

Ten feet higher

We marched with swastikas held high
Alt right
Neo ****
No, sorry
White Pride

Ten feet higher

Add a foot for every black life that didn't matter enough
Add a foot for every white ****** that walked free
Add a foot for every family ripped apart
Add a foot for every terrorist that came from inside this country
Add a foot for every hate crime left unnoticed
Add a foot for every transgender person who can no longer serve
Add a foot for every injustice that will never be addressed
Add a foot for every life we could've saved in Puerto Rico

Red with blood
The flag is red with the blood we wiped from our hands.

Be aware
Be angry
  Oct 2017 Irene Poole
Rebel Heart
If there's any hope left
It's sewn in the edges of the stars
That sprinkle over the midnight sky
While I lay fitting perfectly
In your warm arms...

If there's any hope left
It's in the echoing sounds of the music
Dancing out of our guitars
While we strum and sing
Perfectly to the beat
Of our mending hearts...

If there's any hope left
I see it in your smile
And in the pool of your deep dark eyes
When you pull me close
Next to the cackling of the bonfire
And the sound of the gossiping woods...

If there's any hope left
I feel it in your lips
As they pull and whisper in mine
I feel it on your warm skin
As your fingers electrify my body
To spell out "I love you"
Over and over again
Till the morning wind
Blows on our fates
*And washes the hope away...
A resurrected piece that makes me think of how much has changed since the autumn season when this was written. This particular poem was a bit longer and a lot more depressing at the end so here's a sneak peek. I guess I'm back to taking over RH's account so happy writing lovelies~BM
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