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 Nov 2013 jalalium
brooke
warm inside
introverted but
i love the chatter
lip tint, gold eyeliner
beautiful around
familiar faces
no one would
ever break me
here. this is my

family.
(c) Brooke Otto 2013
 Nov 2013 jalalium
addy r
She's Me
 Nov 2013 jalalium
addy r
She has been questioning herself. Questioning her existence, and her position in life? Will she end her poems with (x.o.) or (lunarlullubies)? Why does this darkness thrive within her? How does it manage to feed off her soul so she’ll contract it’s disease and become a permanent part of her? She doesn’t know. She doesn’t know. All she knows is that somewhere in her mind, there exists an intelligence that no one has ever embraced. She doesn’t use all of it all the time because it would offend some people.

She knows how to love a man properly. She knows how to remember every single detail about him, how his eyes sparkle whenever he’s contented and how they look deep into her when they’re together. She knows. She’ll remember his birthday, their anniversary, his number, his coffee order and even his address because she loves him, and would do anything for him. She would be the one to buy flowers, the one to ask him out on dates. She would be the one.

She looks into the mirror everyday and asks why she can’t be of another race, why she can’t have auburn curls or green eyes, or blue eyes. She wonders why she can’t get rid of her love handles, or her baby fat. She’s the girl in school who embraces many. Who looks up to many. When will anyone look up to her? When will people start asking her where she got her clothes from? Or her inspiration?

She has never been on the logical side, but what she doesn’t have in logic, she makes up for in creativity. Writing poetry, singing, playing instruments and reading have always been her greatest enjoyments. She doesn’t like challenging problem sums or figuring out what the square root of pi is. She wants to look to the other side of life where the complication is low. What she doesn’t understand, is why the education system chooses to make her study mathematics which she clearly doesn’t ace it. She doesn’t understand why her math teacher wouldn’t help her but instead indirectly call her a hopeless case and a sad sob story of great words with high levels of stupidity and ignorance. She doesn’t know. She knows that studying mathematics could have some kind of good impact on her, but she just doesn’t get it. Every problem is twisted like a good mystery. She likes mysteries but can never seem to solve them on her own because she doesn’t have good deduction skills. Her dad told her, “Good deduction skills come from learning mathematics.” and she has been trying to learn. Trying to understand the intricacies of it. She has great ambitions, but the system and the way of society doesn’t let her fulfil those ambitions. They make her value money over happiness, which is something she doesn’t like, but has to believe in. She thinks it’s flawed, and argues about topics like it. She is the president of one of the most underrated clubs in school – the debate club. Some students don’t even know that their school has a debate club. She cries about how things don’t go well. She wants them to improve.

She knows. She knows that someday everything will all change because everyone will grow up one day.



(lunarlullubies)
My longest writing yet, because it's about someone I know the best. Myself.
 Nov 2013 jalalium
martin
He longed to hold the melons she'd got
And taste the bright red, ripe-red cherries on top
He yearned to reach for her succulent peach

But would it alarm her
To show her too soon
His bent banana
And two little prunes?
 Nov 2013 jalalium
andrew
E.D.
 Nov 2013 jalalium
andrew
11/23/13**
my only friend
mr.e.d.

i wish he would leave me be for awhile
maybe let me pick myself up off the ground
brush the dirt off of my clothing
take a warm warm shower
and let myself feel human again

but mr.e.d. is selfish
as am i
we both want beauty
we both want to risk it all

i dont quite remember how i met him
we must’ve shook hands one night
when i was feeling too low
because i know he lifted me up
and kissed my nose and whispered
"ill help you become yourself"

i knew mr.e.d. would become my everything
but i didn’t understand what that meant
until he had me gasping for air
between pools of half digested food
crying promises to the toilet bowl
"ill change ill change i promise"

i don’t want to leave mr.e.d.
because he helped me become
who i am
and i owe him
my
life

im sorry that my friends don’t like you mr.e.d.
im sorry that i promised them i’d leave you
but you know me better than that
im loyal
and you
are my everything
You used to say you would never Quit
You told me to stay Strong but how am I supposed to be strong when you are my strength.
You took some pills
You left a note
You lost the battle
Now you're gone and you have left me
**Alone
A gift can be so many things
Flowers, Chocolates, Diamond Rings
I received my heart renewed
When the lord knelt down
And gave me... you-
A gift of passion, a gift of strength
Til death do us part, throughout life's length
A gift of faith and a promise too
My heart forever belongs to you-
Gifts of happiness and of Joy,
A gift of trust I'll not destroy
The gift of Family and good times shared
Of understanding, with no expense spared-
At last a gift I cannot hide
A gift that comes from deep inside
The gift of love I give to you
A love that's deep, a love that's true-
A gift can be so many things
Flowers, Chocolates, Diamond Rings
I received my heart renewed
When the lord knelt down
And gave me... you

*Abdirahman
 Nov 2013 jalalium
Conrad Aiken
Music I heard with you was more than music,
And bread I broke with you was more than bread;
Now that I am without you, all is desolate;
All that was once so beautiful is dead.

Your hands once touched this table and this silver,
And I have seen your fingers hold this glass.
These things do not remember you, beloved,--
And yet your touch upon them will not pass.

For it was in my heart you moved among them,
And blessed them with your hands and with your eyes;
And in my heart they will remember always,--
They knew you once, O beautiful and wise.
Twitch of the eye, recorded.
Beads trickle down rippled foreheads.
The Voice is loud, but lips are sealed.
The pawns thoughts remain concealed
As the mad King addresses the board.

The cameras don't feel the chill
Nor the barrels, aiming still
Yet as the hairs on the necks, they stand
Fellow comrades of the land
Blandly hiding their rebellious wills.

His voice is ice, his head is earth.
His heart is fire but his gaze averts
The marble army changing sides
And as the jester laughs and cries,
Whites turn black and aim as one
And fire as if through just one gun.

No sudden moves
But the King is down.
No one comes to claim the crown.
Written during the North Korean antics, at a time I was coincidentally reading 1984 and the Communist Manifesto simultaneously! The speaker can be any reasonably tyrannical dictator that comes to mind.
 Nov 2013 jalalium
Ally
001.
 Nov 2013 jalalium
Ally
If this were a stainless life, where my wishes outran my dreams, I would be your Muse. You would be my consummate liberation. Pure. We would be two impeccable and intricate halves to a Whole.

I would delicately whisper the perfection of your thoughts. You would always know that every throbbing second of missing you scalds my chest like a straight shot of whiskey. I would always be guarded in your warrior arms incessantly, while your trembling fingertips fumble & untangle the strands of my hair. This, my love, parallel with your parted angel lips, perishing to ******* skin like deliverance. But instead, let me savor the deep sighs of your soul as you read me poems of Us in an embrace that vows timelessness. You would always deeply crave to flicker your tongue on my **** with the barbarity of a dragonflies' wings. (******* & Button too, please.) Our Love would always be frail and delicate enough to cradle a wounded sparrow or a bruised robins' egg. I would kiss away-- the raw heaviness of the world, the look of disquiet on your face during a restless & riotous week, the howling tears and grieving weeps on your cheeks that you never knew how to cry, your sad eyelids goodnight when a sinuous and cruel current of doubt tries to wash us out. The words we spoke to each other would always be used as a sanctity & a solace at all times and never to rage or destroy or damage. I would revel in the chasms of your heart when I heard our childs' laughter. We would float when you held my hand. In the mall. At the grocery store. In the car. On the sofa. Everywhere. We would always remember that every sky is not pale blue, that every rainfall is not tame, that every grin does not always radiate truth, but if we have each other we will always be pacified. We would never cease to see the fate of our boundless love with every docile or rowdy or concise kiss. We would reconstruct the phantoms of both our pasts into worthless and abandoned yesterdays, so they can never define Us. I would always appreciate the little things with you; Our harmonized breaths as we sleep, the pull of gravity when you take my breath away, every note in our favorite songs, the faint sunlight in Autumn that pierces your eyes to make them crystal, the crust of the moon in the cloudless night sky as we dream in each others arms, every precious word that is conceived behind your sinless lips, every wave and surge of ecstasy of every crescendo in the raptures of our frenzied desires, every smile that is illustrated by you. I would never stop reading you, interpreting you, learning you, saving you, holding you. I would anchor our wary hearts, fasten our hopeful eyes, meet you at every opened door, walk with you down every path of life, and never stop collapsing and descending and falling madly, deliriously, wildly, deeply, doubtlessly in Love with you. Sometimes we would cry ourselves to sleep until the weight of our pseudo laments turned into vigor. I would try my very best soothe every hurt, heal every scar, fight every war. Take every battle and make it mine so that you never have to fight. So that you never have to try. So that you never have to struggle. You would sing me to sleep; soft and quietly, out of tone and raspy, whispering and sleepy. We would just be, simply, us.
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