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Give me a mountain top
and a rain drop.
All the clouds in the sky.
Nothing, though,
ever, ever,
will make me feel any different.
 May 2013 Lauren Fehr
Hello Sayer
Little wallflower at the back of the room
Sitting pretty, waiting to bloom
Watching the others in their gaiety
Dreaming of tiny steps to spontaneity

If you have something to say, say it
But even when you do, you delay it
Sitting in the back all alone
Where have you hidden your backbone?

You wait it out until that perfect silence
The challenge, the defiance
Of delivering the right answer
When everyone else just stands there

But it seems it will never come
You'd rather they think you were dumb
Instead of watching the heads turn
And feeling your throat burn

And it has to be something meaningful
Something wise, beneficial
Because this is the leaf upturned
This is the incense finally burned

You must be wise and reveal a profound truth
Or the silent one will be seen as the dumb mute
But not too weird and different either
Or you might as well be having a seizure

As you speak there is such an unjust silence
And as you finish an applause and laughter like raw violence
For despite your careful wording
They will never pay attention to anything but asserting

Asserting, asserting is gold
Asserting yourself and being bold
Being confident, being ****
Being exposed, being rude

Even if you proved the professor wrong
Even if in three seconds you wrote a song
Even if you recited a hundred digits of Pi
All they care about is that you are speaking and that you were once shy

And that
my friends
is a spectacle
About being shy in a school setting. It ***** sometimes.
It seems as if
I have no time
for time.
I do not make enough time
to read all the books I have bought or
learn something genuinely new on guitar.
my short efforts on learning the ukelele
violin and piano have failed.
Not enough time to study and understand
philosophy, or read
over history
Not enough time to dedicate to both school and art,
Not enough ardency for my job.
I have fallen into mediocrity
I resent it. I resent it so.
My album that I am recording is not good enough.
My reading habits are almost nonexistent
My photos are starting to look the same
I used to be above the rest but
they have caught up and are now excelling pass me.
Where am I then?
Am I just the typical hipster philosopher musician
Who’s greatest work will only be seen through
the narrow window of a tumblr poem?
And oh look, another aggravated, angsty poem
on tumblr, how special.
Frankly, I do not know how to balance it all.
And deep down I know even if I found a way,
I might cease to care.
And however many years from now, even if
my album is on the top charts
I have read dozens of books
And learned and experienced so much
I think I will always believe
That I do not know, or do
enough.
soft my love
we know

hard street
new york city streets
streets where dreams are born
dying
where we are dying
living

trusting

trusting only

in the love

we never betray
we never claim
eachother
as our own

we never hurt unnecessarily
we never
never
betray

in the dreams that die

we know

what it means

to survive

and we survive
yes
we

survive
 May 2013 Lauren Fehr
Harsh
If I took the lyrics of 'I can't make you love me' and 'See beneath your beautiful',
remixed them into a rap tainted with Eminem's vengeance and Ed Sheeran's soul,
and plagiarized Beethoven's most romantic composition to bring it to life,
maybe I would come a little closer to expressing my true feelings, if at all.
To tell you, though you already know, that I am in desperate need of saving.
I'm showing all the symptoms such as losing control, sense, rationality, sight,
and only you can cure me, not because of the doctor you're studying to be,
but because you are both my Superman and kryptonite.

I spend my days searching for a replacement, an alternative, a pastime,
but of course it's impossible as nothing can substitute perfection.
So I wrestle insomnia to dream of you, but I don't, I'm wide awake,
it's a nightmare. Then I pray only to behold that I'm denied salvation.
However as an intelligent, smart, independent young woman,
with my hair down, head held high and hips swinging to the beat,
I try to channel my energy elsewhere. Amidst all the positive thinking
tequila takes over and I return to my cold bed, with aching feet.

Ideally I want to be the woman you love, or realistically your ****,
on the contrary I'm Neo from Matrix who took both pills.
Bewitched by your once in a blue moon texts, ignoring the red siren
in my head blaring, "nothing makes you stronger, it only kills!"
I have nothing exceptional to offer, so I do not know how to pitch
my average intelligence, talent, wit, personality and body.
Unless God, who you have no faith in, by some miracle
leads you to this, yet another one of my mediocre poetry.
This poem is the sole property of me and cannot be copied or used without permission. [Copyright G.H. Rodrigo 30/10/2011]
it's one of those nights where no amounts of
raw cookie dough or
ed sheeran or
fuzzy blankets
can block you from entering my mind
 May 2013 Lauren Fehr
amt
Do you ever wonder if the stars shine out for you?
Float down
Like autumn leaves
Hush now
Close your eyes before the sleep
And you're miles away
And yesterday you were here with me

Another tear
Another cry
Another place for us to die
It's not complicated
Autumn Leaves by Ed Sheeran. Such a beautiful song, thought I'd share the lyrics.
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