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Makana Queja Jan 2013
A, B, C, D...
As I twist the stem of my breakfast apple.
Where does life go from here?
Oops. Didn't finish it yet. Wanted to work on it later, but forgot to save it as private. hahahaha, technology, you do me wrong.
Makana Queja Jan 2013
Behold the Weight upon my back,
In stunning armor, no luster lack.
He rides and rides till break of day,
Plotting out the fastest way.
To save a damsel in distress,
A challenge conquered by the best.
Riding above the mountains and the sea,
But really he sits. He sits on me.

We arrived at our destination,
He prepares for his occupation,
of rescuing princesses from a tower.
For that is all that's in his power.
So there I wait, and watch him leave,
Walking to the gates with ease.
He left me with no water to drink,
So I decide to wait and take a leak.

It was minutes until he came out,
Running around and all about.
A young girl upon his shoulder,
Just as the night was growing colder.
He threw the ***** upon my saddle,
And loaded me up like some cattle.
He jumped up and decided to scream,
"RUN RUN, YOU ******* STEED!"

And so I ran, as they both sat,
Galloping hard as those two chat.
They spoke of riches and much gold,
Of their parents, all reasonably old.
We arrived at the great castle gates,
As I was reminded of how little I ate.
Looking over at a couple of goats,
Munching on delicious oats.

I was drawn, for I was starved,
But into my side, my Weight carved.
He pulled my reins towards the castle gate,
He would not dare to be late.
When we had made our approach,
He tied me to a very strong post.
"Stay here and don't move," he said to me.
"I'll come back later, you will see."

He entered the gates and let me be.
I waited for the night, but did not see
The Weight come back, like he said he would,
I was hoping he was not gone for good.
It was then that I saw a shadow move.
It was a superstition that I did not approve.
Behold, a thief in the night,
Come to steal with all his might.

In his hand, he held a large bag,
Of gold and jewels, and royal flag.
He leaped upon my back to escape,
His confidence left my mouth agape.
I dare not move, my Weight will return,
Him and his wicked little spurs.
The thief leaped off and scuffled around.
He went into the stable to bring a bag, round.

He opened the bag, and there I did see.
A bagful of oats, and they were all for me!
He took a handful and put them to my nose.
I ate them all quickly, fastest I chose.
He patted my hair, and gave me a scratch,
He sang me a song, and let me relax.
He leaped on my back and spurred one last time.
I gave him a prize, because he gave me mine.
Makana Queja Jan 2013
What makes one man superior to another?
Born at different times.
Birthed by different people.
Forged in different habitats.
Formed by different education.
The men are different in every sense,
Yet they are compared by the same bar.

Truly, a man should only measure himself,
Against who he was yesterday.
Makana Queja Jan 2013
I close my eyes and breathe.
She was innocent.
She look at me with love.

I close my eyes and breathe.
I became lustful.
I came after her and she let me.

I open my eyes and hold my breath.
She stopped calling.
She ignored me.

Still holding my breath.

She left.

I open my eyes and breathe.
It has taken 19 months,
But I can finally breathe again.

But it still hurts.
Makana Queja Dec 2012
Hear the white noise?
It steals away all tender moments.
It is a thief of joy and affection.
It drives towards disorder.
It tempts man to stupidity.

Hear the white noise?
It’s the sound of 1000 guitars.
Not with glorious chords.
Not with wondrous solos.
But with feedback.

Hear the white noise?
It lead me down the wide path.
It brought me to the easy way out.
It allowed me to coast through.
It blocked all natural thought.

I heard the white noise.
I let it steer my soul.
I let it play me.
I allowed myself to blame it,
For losing you.
Makana Queja Nov 2012
Sometimes I dream of suicide.
An elaborate term of my demise.

If I attempt by great height,
My head is then full of fright.
"The height is far too great."
Stepped away from edge of my estate.

If I attempt to take it by knife,
I then begin to think of my wife.
Lying there, like a crazed fellow,
For the Lord knows I am no Othello.

If I try to take it through grief,
That suicide would be none too brief.
The long drawn out hectic space,
Of wading through troubles at a slower pace.

But that is the method that I choose,
For I cannot attempt the cunning noose.
If by noose, I commit the crime,
I would solve my problems fine.

But by then the deed would be done,
I would be departed, the world won.
But I will not back down like that.
I shall go on, with the word, "attack."

My life will not be solved by you,
I'm sorry for bluntness but it's true.
I will forge my own perfect path,
With all of my problems facing my back.

This is how I shall do the deed.
Go down fighting, the rest will be history.
Makana Queja Nov 2012
I am a teenager.
I refuse to back down or give in.
I will not be silent in the face of tyranny.
I am the voice of both past and future generations.
I am the in-betweener for the too young or the too old.
I am the purgatory between a child and an adult.
I will not be swayed to be who my parents are.
I will not be pushed into someone else’s beliefs.
I am me.
I am an individual who will not fit a mold.
But I will not pit my soul against another.
I wield not a sword, but a shield.
I will protect those who are less than me,
And stand against any oppressors
Regardless of success or failure.
My scars will be badges of honor.
My soul may be beaten down,
But always know that I will get back up.
Whether it be of stupidity or courage,
I refuse to lose to any oppressor.
I am a teenager.
I am strong.
And I will not be defeated.
I will never give up who I am.
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