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 Jun 2013 Mikaila
Briana4545
We blame society for everything.
We fault magazines for turning innocent teenage girls
Into anorexic beauty queens.
We point fingers at the paper thin actresses on TV screens
For bringing bulimia victims to their knees,
******* down their throat as they cough up that last bit dinner,
Along with the guilt and shame that comes with it.
We blame society, but we are society.
Who wrote those magazines?
Who created the ridiculous standard that you can only fit in
If your bones are showing through your skin?
Hunger is just a feeling; thin is a skill.
Your stomach isn’t growling because you’re starving.
No! It’s applauding you on a job well done,
On another day of nothing but celery sticks and diet coke.
Who cares if all of your hair falls out?
Who cares if you get dizzy every time you stand?
Who cares if the desire to be thin and meet this sick standard of beauty
Is slowly killing you, taking another piece of that innocent teenage girl
And turning her into a skeleton?
We, as a society, don’t care.
The magazines won’t stop printing
Because another high school kid got carried away.
Extreme, even deadly diets are a thing of today,
And yes, yes, they’re here to stay.
Sometimes eating healthy and exercising just aren’t enough.
Desperate times call for desperate measures,
And under this kind of pressure,
It’s hard not to give in.
 Jun 2013 Mikaila
AJ
I Hate the Sand
 Jun 2013 Mikaila
AJ
It bothers me that sand can hold my weight.
Sand is tiny.
Each grain is insignificant.
Yet it somehow finds billions of other tiny, insignificant grains just like it.
And they can do things I can not.
It makes me feel jealous, and even more insignificant than the sand.
I hate the sand.
So does the water.
That's why it continues to drown it.
It doesn't work, but it keeps trying.
Someone needs to tell the water that it can't drown the sand.
Someone needs to tell me that I can't drown the sand.
Someone needs to tell the sand that it can't walk on water.
Someone needs to tell me that I can't walk on water.
 Jun 2013 Mikaila
AJ
Today I thought about it.
I didn't do it.
I think about it a lot.
I've done it.
We all thought about it at some point.
We don't all do it.
A lot do it.
We don't all succeed.
I guess if we all thought about it,
And all did it,
And all succeeded,
There would be no one left to
Think about it,
And do it,
And succeed.
But I'll still think about it,
And do it.
So will you.
 May 2013 Mikaila
Edgar Allan Poe
It was many and many a year ago,
  In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
  By the name of ANNABEL LEE;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
  Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,
  In this kingdom by the sea:
But we loved with a love that was more than love—
  I and my ANNABEL LEE;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
  Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,
  In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
  My beautiful ANNABEL LEE;
So that her highborn kinsmen came
  And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
  In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
  Went envying her and me—
Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know,
  In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
  Chilling and killing my ANNABEL LEE.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love
  Of those who were older than we—
  Of many far wiser than we—
And neither the angels in heaven above,
  Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
  Of the beautiful ANNABEL LEE.

For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
  Of the beautiful ANNABEL LEE;
And the stars never rise but I see the bright eyes
  Of the beautiful ANNABEL LEE;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling, my darling, my life and my bride,
  In her sepulchre there by the sea—
  In her tomb by the side of the sea.
 May 2013 Mikaila
CRH
Catalyst
 May 2013 Mikaila
CRH
If misguided
Love
can breed
Contempt
and contempt
can breed
Creativity
then all things
considered, sweetheart,
you have certainly
Inspired me.
 Apr 2013 Mikaila
julia denham
The mirror in the bathroom, above the basin
Told me he was only admired
For his jewelled frame
And only required
Because he could reflect shame
Upon those who looked at him
finding themselves inadequate
Critisisng every feature, every limb
He saw them searching desparately
For themselves in his glass
they'd come close and whispher things
And to themselves, he could see them ask
"Why?" For he saw their mood swings,
Their lashes of confidence
"You can do this." They'd sometimes say
He saw them loving their appearance
From time to time, depending on the day
He saw them splash their faces
And fix their hair into neat buns
Trying to cover up the traces
Of rubbed red puffy eyes and tired lungs
The mirror in the bathroom, above the basin
Told me he saw people confronted
With the reality of who they are,
But to accept this - they were reluctant
Sometimes they stayed far
Away from his reflections
These days he was lonely and
observed them detest their "imperfections"
While washing their hands
The mirror in the bathroom, above the basin
Told me
He saw people in their most honest forms.
 Apr 2013 Mikaila
Kristo Frost
he read
somewhere
her name
means warrior

tough
indeed
fierce
in fact

five feet
"tall"
protesting
a picket line
because she hates the hate

they love so much
stronger than him
she never lets him feel that

she knows
he doubts himself
she tries to doubt
herself
but can't
really
she is too busy
trying to make the world

alright
he too is busy
making it all wrong
but she never loses

touch her
savant memory
hearing her living
in the echoes

her laughter
medicine
for the deepest
wound

she falls around sunset
to rest in
dreams
of the next battle
 Feb 2013 Mikaila
Maddie
Am I a starving artist?
A mystery for you to uncover.
A poem I can sell to a stranger and another.
I cannot think of pages marked with ink.
Instead I'll paint a suffering lover.
There is no canvas alive with color.
Your love I crave it fills me with hunger.
Starve? maybe, but not that way.
Yes I am in decay.
Years may pass before I go under.
Eons while you have another.
How beautiful a writing for my love.
A starving artist isn't noticed 'til they're in heaven above.
 Feb 2013 Mikaila
Maddie
Odd.
 Feb 2013 Mikaila
Maddie
Isn't it odd.
People keep secrets.
A thousand envelopes.
Shut tight by two thousand signets.
Don't let them get out.
What a shame if they do.
We're afraid of people
Judging
Laughing.
Looking like a fool.
The funny thing is.
No matter who,
There are things people hide
From those near to them too.
Acceptance.
That's the word.
By word I mean world.
No soprano singing of a little girl.
You think she would sing if she chose it?
The problem here lies is that I'm a poet,
And no one I care about seems know it.
I am a humming bird with a broken wing forming a geometric fall.
I am a conjoined twin with a foot in heaven and one in hell.
I am a geyser spewing out echoes from a stonewall well.
I am an open road stretched for miles paved with a murderous smile.
I am a man with a firm handshake who stands still on top of an earthquake.
I am a visionary man who slipped on fate and fell in love.
I am a preliminary hearing fallen on deaf ears.
I am the contribution to your retribution.
I am a person of depersonalization.
I am a one man army minus one man.
I am the desired taste of orange juice and toothpaste.
I am concentrated concentration.
I am the formation of your imagination.
I am the comma for your introductory clause.
I am the cause for your sudden pause.
I am the spatula that stirs up your anxiety.
I am the reaper who never leaves a clue.
I am the lace that always chokes the shoe.
I am the light that finds its way thru helping the little shrew.
I am the suburban white boy who sings the blues.
I am consistent inconsistency.
I am your assigned tour guide for your expiration exploration.
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