Unsure
Dangling upside down, held up by only trust
I am suspended over a bridge,
One of which I am afraid to cross,
afraid to think about,
afraid to imagine.
But you hold me there
suspended
laughing
I don’t know why I let you torture me
I know I’m going to fall
hard and fast
painfully
but it’s happening and I feel as if I have no control
I let it happen
and then you’re gone
years later I can’t forget
that bridge,
that night
that mistake and the long recovery.

but that’s the funny thing,
Hamlet could've killed the king.
You could have killed me,
Released your grip, sent me down.
Rushing, flying,crashing, crying
Your name on my breathless lips.

But...

You didn't. You held me,
Up.
Alive.

Still suspended, but no longer unsure,
We've met dangling above the water
On a bridge.

Your Ophelia, safe from drowning.
Safety assured.

Was it the proud full sail of his great verse?
Full dedication, my vindication.
It purposefully maintained his great farce,
Masterfully lying, the persuasion.

He was always gorged full of his own ****.
I was willful and weak and victimized.
Beautiful deceiving eyes, I admit,
I was full of love, by him, mesmerized.

I became fully his, ****** into life
with a perjurer, oh he was skilful!
My heart was full with love, my head, strife.
The endless lies would stop, I was hopeful.

  But hopefulness can become helplessness
  with hearts, things become frightfully hellish.

Whether it's type 1
Or type 2
Life is a bit more difficult for you.

A broken piece of the machine,
Blood sugar monitor supreme.
A cure for diabetes is the dream.

Eating healthy and exersizing,
Won't cure everything,
But scientists and doctors are waiting.

For the cure of a lifetime
One that gives a lifetime,
This year might be the right time.

Walking for awareness
Fundraising for a cure
We are DiaBeaters for sure!

Date someone who walks into a storm.
they may be pour at weathering it,
shoes soaked, shirts clinging to collar bones
jeans suctioned onto hips
But they'll make it through.

Date a person who gets caught in the rain.
They may not expect it,
but they can handle a surprise.

Love a person who isn't intimidated by thunder.
They know how to wait it out,
the heavy air will subside in the end.

Love a person who has experienced hail,
They may be bruised by it,
but they laugh at the ice pellets perching on their fingertips.

Marry someone who walks into the storm.
They like the excitement,
but they know when to come home.

Mary someone who walks into the storm,
They'll thrive in the abandoned streets,
walking barefoot through the puddles,
dancing to the beat of your heart.

Does everyone remember their first drink?
It was probably pretty bitter right?
I remember mine, I was so excited.
It was like an adrenaline rush
I kept asking and asking and asking my parents for a sip
and finally I got it
and it was absolutely disgusting.

You know a first drink is never what you expect it to be.
You always think it's going to be delicious,
life changing even because you expect that
out of the blue you'll be able to
distinguish between good drinks and bad drinks.
That you'll suddenly make it a habit
and that you will be instantly cooler.

Love kind of works the same way alcohol does
the first one you think is going to be great.
and it usually isn't
(except for a few freaks of nature who get it right after one try)

Love, like alcohol, is one of those things you try to quit
and you never do.
Like after a long weekend in college you promise you will never touch alcohol again,
And after a bad break up you swear you'll never touch a member of the opposite *** again.
but you do.

It's the same thing.

Relationships like a first drink can leave you bitter.
It takes years to learn how to distignusih a bottle of top shelf alcohol
from the stuff you buy in a handle for eight dollars.

And it takes years and plenty of heartbreak to distinguish between the good people and the bad people.
The people you keep in your life and the ones who will burn you.


but eventually, we get it right.
Eventually we realize we can drink without making that scrunched up face,
we realize we can sip some cold beverage and enjoy it
and sometimes we realize
we've found that one person who
doesn't leave us bitter,
who we can be with forever.

That one person who doesn't burn us
the way alcohol burns your throat.

When you meet that person,
you need to hold on.
And that's what's happening here today.

So all I can say is....sip slowly and never be sober.






Love is like a good drink.
you know, the kind you buy special for the party
because all they’ll have is bud, and PBR.

It’s like the drink you carry around all night,
sipping it, to make sure it lasts.
The drink you proudly carry,
label out, for the world to see.

Love is like a good drink,
the kind that sits beside you
at the beer pong table.
Understanding that
you have to chug all those beers,
before you realize it’s that special drink you really want.

Before you realize you can love without
the cheap scratch ticket selling liquor store.
Before you realize it’s time for the good stuff.

Love is like a good drink,
the kind you sip, slow,
the kind you buy special for the party.
The kind you keep in your house,
displayed on a shelf.

Love is like a good drink,
when times get tough, it’s there
when things are good, it’s there
and when your world is crashing down,
when you think everyone hates you
it’s there.

My only advice, and my only wish
is that you
stay thirsty my friends.

poetry, is almost dead
it’s gasping for breath
reaching out ,tearing at the bottom of our pants
clinging to anyone it can
A  solider of culture
being dragged from the battlefield,
after an open fire attack
by generations and generations

Poetry,
words strung together with beautiful precision
feelings reveled
people laying naked
exposed
Bleeding on the stage, on the page,
on the bathroom walls at the Mall
On the subways, in the sand
even writing on their hands
trying to save

….
what’s dying

This is why we slam.
this is how we resurrect the language
energy emitting from our bones like electricity
catchy beats and in your face attitudes
give flesh to the skeletal body
of poetry

This is why we slam.
because Poe wasn’t tough enough
Keats is too old fashioned for us
and the philosophical words of Robert Frost are foreign to us.

Today he who is shunned for his talented tongue
mush break the mold,
ignore the sweet sonnet and the subtle hiku
that is
misunderstood
modern day delinquents
those too ignorant to recognize
an onslaught of alliteration
                or
a well placed metaphor
those who find poetry
a bore

This is why we slam.
let our strength ring out through our voices

This is why we slam.
we speak our truths
pick off the paint covering the ugly reality

This is why we slam.
to be heard.

When the traditional beauty of Owen, Wordsworth and Dickenson
Just won’t do
us slam poets hear the call
and we come through

This is why we slam.
To face the harsh reality that is society
to attack
the politics,
the racism
the injustices
of life itself

Fast words whizzing from our mouths
from our hearts
slamming the ****** silence
and complacency
that has become today’s reality

This is why we slam.
To be heard,
to resurrect the dying art.

This is why we slam.

Winter loves Summer,
Because it warms the heart
And melts the ice.

Summer loves winter,
Because it cools the temper
And whitewashes last years blunders.

When the world is quiet,
Write.
Make its fire rage.

it's cold and I feel small
i'm alone and I feel abandoned
i'm me, but i've lost myself in your love
I hope you feel the same,
yet your feelings never shown
I am in constant turmoil
he loves me he loves me not
he loves me he loves me-
BOOM
my feelings explode inside me
I am hit with the shrapnel
Am I good enough?
Does you care as I do?
what will become of me and you?
he loves me he loves me not
he loves me he-
I can;t function like this can't think
I work to keep busy but I am constantly distracted
awaiting our next meeting,
next encounter
then left to my own devices I wonder
why it's so delayed
who you're with and what you're doing
how you're probably not thinking of me
It is against my morals to sit and wait
at home for you to come
for you to leave your job and see me
but I do it
It hurts to stay and it hurts to go
what will become of this, of us,
I dont think either one of us knows
but such are the trials of young love
and I suppose it's something to accept and embrace
but still I dread the heartache

Caaaarpe
…
*caaarpe
...
Caarpe Diem

Keating whispered
He whispered.

in Delay there lies no plenty
Shakespeare warned,

gather ye rosebuds while ye may
Herrick advised.

We don’t
whisper, warn or advise

Generation Y
PROCLAIMS!

We shout, strong, sure and proud
YOLO

We chant, graffiti, hastag
YOLO

We get
one shot one opportunity
to seize everything in we ever wanted in one moment

**** the romantics,.
The critics, the experts, the analyzers too.

YOLO
Who says we can’t be prophetic,
Philosophical,
Beautiful?


This is us,
Our time
our chance,
so

let’s make the most of the night like we’re gunna die young.

It is our excuse.

The reason I hit the gas
rev the engine and slam it to the floor.
With squealing tires,
loud exhausts and smoky exits
You can hear me
we are young so lets set the world on fire we can burn brighter than the sun.

We need to do this now,
before the light in our eyes,
light of our lives,
go out.

YOLO

The reason we face mountains
of debt with a smile.

The face we put on
brave, ready, awake
when the bill collectors call,
the healthcare goes into reform
and the government shuts down.

YOLO

This moment, we own it
this second in a catalogue
of years.
The months we spend crashing cars, bars and acting like stars.

YOLO

The reason we apply for jobs,
we’ll never get.
Taking rejection with a grin
we will always try again.

YOLO

it is the reason I joined the race.
After all,

You.
Only.
Live.
Once.

-Kayla Morrison

I'm writing this poem
At 10:24.

But in Guatamala

I'm writing this poem
At 8:25.

Time is relative.