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Do not stand at my grave and weep..
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awake in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft star-shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry..
I am not there. I did not die.
 Oct 2013 Jade Ivy
Morgan
Whipped
 Oct 2013 Jade Ivy
Morgan
I don't want
to write about
fireworks,
and butterflies
and pretty
stars in
perfect
skys.
I want
to write about
the gaps
in your teeth
and the way
your voice
sounds when
you're angry
I want
to write about
the mess of
clothing
that you
don't even
wear,
all over
your bedroom
floor
I want
to write about
the tears
on your pillowcase
and the way
you so often
fail to make
sense
in the morning
I don't want
to write about
all of the perfect
things you do
I want
to write about
why I'm
in love with you
and
I want my words
to prove that
there's nothing
you do
that
I'm not
attracted to
...
 Oct 2013 Jade Ivy
Morgan
i'm not concerned with getting into heaven
i'm just praying to get out of this hell
 Oct 2013 Jade Ivy
Alyssa
there was a time when i thought that maybe i could start to be alive. i stayed away from drugs and alcohol and i trained for hours every day and learned what not to eat and practiced a religion i had no idea about. but i felt something was missing and i had no idea why i felt so empty. i saw the people i love start to turn sad and gray and most days they couldn't lift their head out of bed. i soon began to realize that i had stolen all of their happiness, all of their hope and all of their motivation to live. it was like once i started to feel happy i drained all others of theirs. of course the only moral thing to do was to give back their happiness but i did not want to.

i am selfish and i am selfless and i am without self.

i felt it was mine, not theirs. i worked so hard to be happy for the first time in my life. i was independent, i was hopeful and positive, i was everything i had wished i could be. but i understood that this happiness was not mine and so i drained myself with cigarettes and bottles on top of bottles of old liquor and a different drug every day. i began to dream feverishly of fresh grass and old tasting food and sickness. i began to dream of my death. death was an old friend and he did not mind reuniting. i had dabbled with death for a long time, always testing him and some times begging him to take me with him when he left. he always knew the right times to kiss me but he never followed through.

death talked a lot of **** for a guy who didn't know how to take a hint.

i prayed to a god who didn't listen to me. i constantly got into fist fights with a god who forgot about me
i cannot tell if i am going crazy or if maybe i just need some sleep (i haven't slept in 3 days)
 Oct 2013 Jade Ivy
wandabitch
Do not disturb a father's promise
to a man
three times the size,
of age as tradition requires.

Do not be stunned at a ******'s gold
who seeks
his child ******,
or even a mother's approving eye
to bloodied sheets her shamed pride.

Family honor-must-be- fulfilled.

Yet what duty of cowards can protect a young life?
who shall
spoil the
untouched,
and
naive mind.

And what radical deviant cries that her vows were lies,
a sanctioned marriage under desquise.

To delude the chance of hope--
Najood Ali
made her plea before a
court
of empathy.

"Divorce my torment and misery,
I am not made for property."

Do not force--righteous anger,
                        As a stone disturbs the water.
And so radical is she, that inspired a community,
                      Love is not a dollar.

Deprive one of her scholar
          in place of
                   pre-mature mother,
                          makes not the smiling bride.

And why shall daughters
                 sacrifice
the chance to grow with
                       laughter?
Tis is the world,
                        a male-order.

And so the Islam burns her flesh
                                                           ­  to purify
                           the abused mess
Take away all her
                            unrest,
This flaw a
                                                    human disaster.
 Sep 2013 Jade Ivy
Morgan
There was an ocean
beneath your skin
I'd splash around from time to time but
I couldn't seem to stir your waters
You held your tide,
calm and soft behind your tongue
for years on end

Until one night
The pain hit just right

Your winds blew violently
And your waves came
building from your core
They crashed o'er your eyelids
And broke into my knee caps
I swam in you until
our skies were the same shade of blue

But then one night
The pain hit just right

I tripped all over your words
They pulled me in deeper and deeper
Until I lost my breath
And drowned in your chest
Oh, how I sank for you

I rest here now
Under a brand new sky
But I swear sometimes
When the pain hits just right
in the middle of the night

I can still feel myself choking on your life
Oh, I swear
I cough up salt water from your sea
when I can't sleep
 Sep 2013 Jade Ivy
Chris
My back has been sore the past week.
I’ve spent too much time
picking up pieces
that I should have left on the ground.
It’s okay to fall apart.
I’ve heard people say
you can put yourself
back together.
I say you can’t.
You must grow new pieces.
The old ones don’t fit.
They will never fit.
You must grow new pieces.
It will hurt.
It will take time.
But by the time you’re finished
you will be filled with
what keeps stars from burning up.
There will be nothing that can
dim your glowing heart,
nothing that can break your
burning bones.
No one will be able to steal
the sunlight in your fingers.
I know some nights will shatter you.
You will fall apart.
It’s okay to fall apart,
because you will grow new pieces.
 Sep 2013 Jade Ivy
AJ
Albany Rosaline Smith.
On Mondays Albany went down to the store to get milk.
Her mother always gave her twenty five cents.
Twenty for the milk,
And five for some candy.
All the boys she passed along the way would tell her how she was
Genuinly beautiful.
And she knew it.
Albany was gorgeous.
On her sixteenth birthday she let Bobby Fisher
**** her under the oak tree
Out back in the feild behind the pond.
"You're something special there, Albany,"
He told her.
She knew it was true,
But it was a nice gesture,
So she let him **** her from behind this time.
Albany became Misses Fisher two years later,
Three weeks after graduation.
It was just the thing to do back then.
They had four kids,
And she was a good mom.
Mathilda, Lizabeth, Marcus, and Temprance.
Three of which were Bobby's.
One of which was the town physician's.
Bobby never knew.
He was a mill worker.
He was not very bright.
But Albany was.
Bright and Beautiful.
She died at the age of forty-two.
She was ***** an killed by the doctor.
He was also the mortician,
So no one questioned it.
It was a small town.
 Sep 2013 Jade Ivy
Morgan
I thought if I swam out
of our stagnant waters,
and let the current carry
me forward you'd feel
inclined to follow

Realizing you weren't going to,
made the water seem a little more violent
and my limbs feel a little heavier
It was painful
I was confused
And scared
But never once did I consider
drifting back into the world we
"lived" in as an option

So
I guess
Maybe...
You were never the reason in the first place
Just, maybe
You weren't the force that kept me
standing still
And maybe
You weren't the force that pushed me
forward
Maybe
You weren't a guiding force at all

Perhaps it's possible
You were never even necessary
Perhaps it's possible
I'm strong enough all on my own

We'll just have to
wait & see
But in the mean time,
*don't wait around for me
 Sep 2013 Jade Ivy
Chris
This is for every sinking heart.
For every sleepless night.
Every set of lungs
gasping for whatever
will keep them from collapsing.
I know that air is not enough.
I guess my eyes couldn’t hold
my weariness any longer,
because it floods all my bones now.
An ocean inside each one,
and I’m still dying of thirst.
I cannot stop the pounding in my head,
the pounding in
my head,
the pounding
in
my
head.
I feel nothing.
I feel everything.
It’s okay.
Let me be.
Ghosts don’t like to lie down anyways,
they’re too busy filling my head.
The floor will feel softer one day.
It will feel softer one day.
I hope it feels softer one day.
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