I wrote a poem for my English class and my teacher said he didn't like it.

I wasn't mad because I got a bad grade, I was mad because what if I wasn't strong enough to look past his opinion and keep writing? What if that one negative comment made me quit altogether and never share a single word again?

What if he ruined my future because he couldn't look past his idea of what a poem should be?

A poem does not have to rhyme or end with closure or even make sense to everyone who reads it.

A poem simply has to reach part of someone's soul who had no idea that these were the words they had been waiting to hear and these were the words that were meant to save them.

This is what a poem is, not a grade from a teacher or a rhyme in a book. A poem is a method of coping and a way to understand the world with ease.

I wrote a poem for my English class and my teacher said he didn't like it. But I am stronger than he thinks, and I will continue to write poems that he does not like and I will continue to love them in spite of his opinion.

Write. Write until your hand hurt and your brain gives out. This is what makes you happy.

2. When you're 18, a boy is going to kiss you for the very first time, and you're not gonna like it. This is because he is not the right one for you.

3. It's okay to watch 5 episodes of a TV show in one day. These are the days that you will never remember, but they are also the days that will keep you sane.

4. That girl you call your best friend; she's going to betray you. And it is your choice to forgive her or not.

5. Your real best friend is your brother, because he has always had your back, and you will always have his.

6. No matter how sad and lonely and worthless you feel, none of the bad things you think are true. You are worth more than the bad days.

7. Your high school graduation will not be what you want it to be. And you will never be okay with that. But it's okay to not be okay with the way the world works sometimes.

8. The friends you make in your first semester of college will outweigh 90% of the people you have met up until then, and that it absolutely okay.

9. Your mom is better than you have ever given her credit for, and you will realize this more and more each year.

10. Wait for him. Wait for the guy that will sweep you off your feet from the very first glance. Do not settle. Ever.

i wonder if it's true that people fall in love in the weirdest ways

because i have imagined you falling in love with me too many ways to count

and each one has a different story and a different scenario

none of which will ever happen

but i keep imagining it because i know how much i could love you

and i know how perfect we could be if you would just follow my script

but then i think about how real love doesn't have to be forced

it just happens

so maybe one day you'll see me and you'll realize

that no one will ever be more perfect for you then me

and then maybe i'll believe that love happens every day

rather than just in the stories and poems i write about you

1
Modern love is that which comes much
To those who do not wish to feel
The shocking nature of its touch
Upon which it does not seem real.
2
Those who find despair in the dark
Will never taste another’s love
Until they find and hear the lark
As he sings his praise to the dove.
3
It arrives quicker than you think
But it can leave you just as fast.
Fate lives and dies swift like a wink;
Like a crowded room, it won’t last.
4
She knows that true love is a storm.
Two perfect souls do rarely meet
Before the world makes them conform
And their connection takes its fleet.
5
It takes too much to join two parts,
So love lives in a middle state,
(Still, Love depends on our two hearts)
And if it passes, all will wait.
6
But when the giddy heaven wins
Against the torn down Earthly smoke,
Two become one and so begins
A bond like the earth to Oak.
7
When paths so destined do both meet,
And Fate takes this round’s victory,
That love will flourish as concrete
In all the world’s supremacy.
8
Therefore Love which holds them near
And defies the odds of poor Fate,
Is rare as when the night is clear
And will for none a lifetime wait.

A voice comes on the radio
cutting off my music
screaming with self importance
I turn it off. My music keeps going
the fine art that is “Satisfaction”
keeps coming.

The dog walker to my right
briefly stumbles
and the dog sprints
off.
A moment later a squirrel is dead.
The poor owner looks
mortifies as he scolds the dog.
I turn away to watch a pigeon fly away
as a vulture comes in before he
slips something to the dog.
I start to wonder what that may
have been
until I remember the lyrics
of my song.

“Can’t be a man cause
he doesn’t smoke same cigarettes as me”
Amen. I hit the skip button
happy with how it even
in the 60’s people were
the same as they are now

An artist comes up to me
with a peculiar  painting
“hey” he says
“not interested” I retort
before I can convince myself
otherwise.

How can you put the idea of luck into words?
It’s like the sun rising and falling at just the right times,
like having a parent who gets you a sweet
jacket that you really didn’t want
but now wear it constantly because it’s a pretty nice jacket.

Luck and air equal in appearance.
It was there for me when I was born, when my parents understood me,
when Sandy hits all of New York but my neighborhood, when
my parents got me my first bike, when
the car managed to not hit me, when I outrun
the fitness coach who was rather angry after I spat at him
when I stumbled across this guy on youtube, who encourages
vegan eating. It feels like immortality, like death really
does not want me, maybe life is stronger and luckier
then death.
It feels like I have a silent guard or guardian always
tipping a domino that leads to me still breathing.
No! Really it encourages the most aggressive dare devil
moves like not touching the ground once in Manhattan
red lights just becoming meaningless colors.    
Perhaps luck is the devil building me up to be
more skilled and better just to shatter the thin air.

In every way luck has been there.
Sure I’ve had ****** moments but they always manage to
feel like a set up for something else.

There is a level of pain between death and making you stronger
that simply hurts, a deep soul wound that never kills.
I’ve always been a “victim” of a pain that makes stronger muscles.

Sure things have came very close.
When I was three or so I was bored and cleaned the house
with chemicals and was blinded for three months,
a neuron or whatever sciency very small unit away from
being blind in my left eye.
but then luck came and I can see fine.

How many times can you get lucky, and no not
in the daft punk way, without feeling
something grander is saving you for something insane
something pure and brilliant like creating a chain reaction
that reaches space?

Or perhaps this is how prophecies get fulfilled?
A mortal gets a gods luck and when the mortal
mistakes them self for a god is when they learn
too late of their mortality?

What is love?
Lots of positive, passionate feelings