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Miranda Renea Jul 2014
Today I saw a tiny bubble
Dodging damp bullets between
***** sidewalks and blackened drains--
The rain of colors swirled in a world
Inverted, and my renege sister stared;
Caged, as she was, by such fragile walls of air.
Miranda Renea Jul 2014
The idle ghosts of innocence
Dance sweetly in a silhouette of sun;
Teasing tiny palms, they shimmer
As tempting gold specs of treasure,
And as he plants these small seeds
I sometimes sense Time seethe --
*Fickle is man if he cannot see,
Of remembrance, dust is currency!
Miranda Renea Jul 2014
Sometimes I find myself lost
Hush, my love, hush
In the thoughts of others and
It isn't long now
I find I fall in love with 4 AM
For soon the birdies wake
Whose silent voice does speak
And the moon must partake
And sing the gentle songs of sleep
*In his final, lonely bow
Miranda Renea Jul 2014
It's getting worse again.
These walls become my friends;
Tell me tales 'till night's end;
Have they gotten closer again?
Wait - why have they gone black?
*Ah, they've come to take me back.
life sad depression unhappy sadness words hard
Miranda Renea Jul 2014
I grew up in suburbia-
With picket fences as white as the faces
Who say they're godly enough to save babies
(As long as they're not queer)
Because we don't have to live with the fear
Of corpses lining the sidewalks
Of our perfectly landscaped yards
We have no guards firing on peaceful protestors
Because our children are filed into orderly lines
Laid out for them at birth
But for what it's worth, we teach them of racism
From a white textbook that lies about founding fathers
Where segregation is just a word and
Oppression is hardly even mentioned.
Our children, who play at the age of 6
And lose their innocence at the age of 16
Suburbia is a life of it's own,
Gangly arms and legs
Like the teenagers who starve themselves
And steal their parents liquor
Just to get drunk quicker
Ignorant of those on the streets dying of hunger
No wonder I yearn to be far from this hell I call home.

Allen Ginsberg once said
“America I’ve given you all and now I am nothing”
The Wonder Years once said
“Suburbia I’ve given you all and now I am nothing”
But I’ve found fallacies in both of these,
I feel it’s more like
Suburbia I’ve given you all
And now I’m an awkward 20 year old
Who doesn’t know how to talk to black people
Suburbia I’ve given you all
And now I’m way too confident walking around the city at night
Because I forget there are communities
Where people actually have to lock their doors,
Suburbia I’ve given you all
And now I have a 16 year old brother
Who thinks the word *** and **** jokes are funny
Suburbia I've given you all
And now my father hates that I'm for gender equality
Well dear daddy,
I hope this offends you.

Because I am offended
By a community that tells **** victims they were asking for it
I am offended by a community
That tells my best friend Liam
That he's just confused, that
His love for Adam is an abomination
I am offended by a community
That offers equality as thinly veiled oppression,
With houses decorated in the decadence of degradation,
All the while their perfect sons and daughters
Are dying of depression because
The hilt of a gun is so much quicker
Than the drugs of their addiction

Suburbia, you are the seed of suicide
Feeding off of your violent silence,
Your white fences slice our tongues
And leave us mindless.
Suburbia, you have betrayed us.
Taught us ignorance is bliss with
Algebra instead of how to do taxes,
Spent more time worried about
Girls' shoulders instead of *** education,
Taught me not to speak unless
My hand was raised as if praise
Is given to authority without question,
Funny how they forgot to mention
Our country was founded on rebellion.

But suburbia, I forgive you
And so I humbly ask of you,
Find the keys of compassion within the heart and
Shed the lock of ignorance that grips your mind
The door may be rusted but it can open with time
Suburbia, I beg of you
Join us in the war of love
Let us all raise our fists and
Paint peace signs on our wrists,
We are disobedient dandelions swaying in the sun,
Words of kindness rolling off our tongues
Like pacifistic shots of a gun
Firing respect instead of rounds
And burying hate instead of bodies in the ground.
***This is a group piece. The lovely Mary Hamula is the other writer that worked on it with me.
Miranda Renea Jul 2014
My pap saw ghosts
The night he died.
I stood in his old boots
One year later, and learned
A subtle love of power
With fire, fire, *fire
Miranda Renea Jun 2014
The sun danced with
Trees in the distance --
Like  stationary roots
That encircle the soil,
We spiral, locked in
The dance of death,
Like leaves in their
Loving descent.
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