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 Feb 2014 M
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Edgar Allan Poe
 Feb 2014 M
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The family of Edgar Allan Poe must feel conflicted
"My grandfather was a great man," they'd say.
"Didn't his family disown him?" the others contradicted.
Leave him in the dust? Spit on his ashes?
The life of this poor ignorant wastrel,
Alcoholic, joining the ranks of *****,
No one to help him or care for
the name who became great, under the shadow of his glasses
the invisible-giant, not recognized, "his wife was a *****,"
No, no, no, Edgar. Not today.
Your confused sexuality is really gay,
The cousins jeer and aunts-uncles jibe
Great poets, queens alike do cry
At the works of this man, at the end of the day,
(we don't really care if he lived or died,)
"It was the other side of the family that did it.
Not I."
 Feb 2014 M
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Angel's Wings
 Feb 2014 M
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I am not a little flower- not Theresé of Liseux
But I'll use the metaphor here.
A beautiful flower, pretty and quiet
does not lie and say, "I am wilted,"
but rather, thanks and gives glory to God for her beauty;
a mountain does not deny the thing that makes him mountainous,
and stands tall, pointing towards the heavens;
a butterfly does not live inside with the idea of being 'humble'
But, because of her delicate beauty, will not be satisfied
until her beauty is shared.
Likewise, I, gifted with glorious angels' wings
will not furl them and submit to a yoke of slavery
but rather, fly.
 Feb 2014 M
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God, do you love me?
 Feb 2014 M
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I desperately want to be good enough.
And it's not as easy for me as for you-
even the church doesn't approve of me.
Even God would condemn me.
Of course I'm scared, and I want to turn away,
and tell myself to only trust in the self
and to be great and whole and
self-loving
while I desperately need outside love.
I cannot simply live my life and know
that He is on my side,
like you can.
Following these morals is like swimming up
a
waterfall.
I know who I was born to be.
do you want me to fight that?
Do you want me to try and overcome?
or are you telling me to accept myself?
Easy for you to say homosexuality is a sin
when you've never felt it
and you've never been scared they'll find out
like I am, every day,
and you've never held a girl's hand,
and you've never been in kindergarten and proposed
in front of the class
and your teacher looks at you and tells you
"girls don't like girls"
and then you thought to yourself, "wait...
I'm a girl?"
because every day you'd told yourself and
desperately wished
you would look like who you felt like
and you've never been repulsed by your supposed
"perfect completion" and
"opposite half"
and homosexuality has never been anything but an objective issue for you
and
God has
always loved you.
I don't know if I can survive alone.
I don't have anyone to give me unconditional love-
apparently the only one who CAN,
does not
love
those like me.
I need You.
Please.
I want a straight(or gay) answer.
God, do you love me?
 Feb 2014 M
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Agape
 Feb 2014 M
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A lot of my poems are about love.
the kind of love that works to give and not take
it's hard to describe that love
and I couldn't, for a while, but I think
I can do it now.
Love.
it binds us together
you give all you can
and when you can't give any more, you keep
giving.
and when they fail to give,
you FORgive. you give FOR them.
and you put others first and
you swear their heart is pure
when it's not
because that's what love does
because it shows them that you believe their
heart is pure. and that's worth more than
anything. and you trust in their heart
and you hold it gently in yours
and when they fail you, you hold their heart
even more tenderly
so that they may heal.
This kind of love is selfless, and exists solely
for the benefit of others,
and it is eternal,
ever-flowing,
Christ-given,
all-knowing.
This kind of love is hard,
and the path to find it is long,
but if you give,
and don't expect anything in return,
you will be happy.
and everyone around you will be happy.
 Feb 2014 M
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Am I destined for loneliness?
Even my cats won't let me pet them.
I am ******, forever, won't get a kiss
My calling by God will love condemn.
I see you and know that no matter what
I do, I can't make you love me,
a strange painful curse, my soul will be cut
and I might be bound, but I am free.
 Feb 2014 M
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An Almost Poem
 Feb 2014 M
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Your name means 'love'
and you told me that with
a look in your eyes that made me
wonder if you knew why.
And today is a rainy day,
worthy of staying inside
and you're beautiful-
yesterday
and today-

-and that's something almost worth
writing a poem about.
 Feb 2014 M
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Untitled
 Feb 2014 M
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I like the way that poems sound
how each line means nothing
except to the author
I like the way they are always addressed
to someone named 'You'
and the way that You will never read them.
 Feb 2014 M
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The barrier
 Feb 2014 M
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It's always not-quite-enough
or, can't-quite-touch
this imaginary cinema screen
hurts us so much.
You and me, we see the sky like
it's meant to be seen,
but we observe people from a distance.
 Feb 2014 M
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This my cross
 Feb 2014 M
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This my cross by which I shall be crucified
and slain by it, my eyes fixed upon my Lord
She'll never know why I died
I wield the penitential sword
To cut off all advances
to shield her from my fault
these shady, pained romances
should never have happened at all.
This my cross which I shall bear all my life
till death do us in heaven unite
for God will be my spouse,
my lawful wedded wife.
I learned grace, first and foremost
from loving someone in every breath
and holding myself back for their sake,
I must now seek my death.
This my cross which God has shown me,
This my cross that I shall bear.
This my cross for the noble battle
that I must fight, and not despair.
this is highly theoretical- I am not, of course, talking about literal death. This is the death of who I used to be. John 10:17
 Feb 2014 M
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My Color Red
 Feb 2014 M
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It is not a regulated code,
nor a law of Scripture.
No one can tell you how to feel,
or when to feel it,
or if what you're feeling is even genuine.
We don't measure the skip of a heartbeat in
'blips per second'
and when it's broken, there's no exact way to fix it.
That's why it's so hard, I think,
for most people to learn how to love, because
there is no 'this-is-how-to-do-it',
guidebook called 'Love for Dummies'
and who can tell you if you're 'strong' or not
that's not their business because
it's YOUR feelings
and they can't get inside your head or heart
and measure the blips-per-second
to tell you, 'No, that isn't love,'
or 'you're weak,'
because only YOU know if you're strong
only YOU can tell if you're in love.
it's fascinating, actually
like 'is my color red the same as your color red'
or do we just call them the same thing?'
is the way I love the same way that you love?
they talk about those butterflies
but it's more like I'm about to head down a
roller coaster
and butterflies are too gentle.
Strong is relative.
Love is relative.
Define yourself because no one else can.
and be careful, be very careful, my dear,
to make sure you get the definition you deserve.
You only get one.
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