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  Dec 2014 Naaliah Green
Tyler Durden
I'm scared to say those eight letters
  Dec 2014 Naaliah Green
curlygirl
Find a Poet Not a poser, not a "it's just a hobby" poet. Find one who mumbles lines as they scramble for a pen at breakfast; who shakes their head randomly when their thoughts aren't rhyming properly;  who has notebooks stashed around the house that you must never touch.
2. Listen Savor the spoken words, for those are harder to express. Keep in mind that they can't be edited and re-written, and be forgiving when a mistake is made.
3. Read The body speaks as loudly as words on a page do. When their eyes are closed or focused on the ceiling and the fingers are tapping out syllables, recognize the unique process. Respect the need for quiet, because if you look closely, you can read the poem on their face before they write it on the page.
4. Write Write your story together. Grab hold of the pen and hang on as you move across the page of life. Sometimes you will dance across, others you will be dragged. You may have to cross out a word, or a line, or a page, but don't give up. Discouragement is a poet's biggest enemy, inarticulateness their biggest fear. So end each day with a semi-colon, because the story will never end the way you think it will, and there must be room for more. There is always room for more, more words, more laughter, more tears, more love,
When you love a poet.
  Dec 2014 Naaliah Green
Kate Irons
she walks through the halls with a smile

she even speaks with ease

but her remains still shake at the sound of your name
  Dec 2014 Naaliah Green
Spencer Craig
my poems aren't a pastime
they're a way to state
my emotions, and past crimes
and ally my boiling hate

my emotion can't be bottled
i'd be stared at like a big ***
so i decided to be a model
to those who renege fast

i want people to learn from my transgressions
or at least have a sense of pride
be a symbol of progression
and if not i can still say i tried.

my poems aspire to be a cashier and make change
and to mold meek, mindless minds
so nothing will be out of their range
so just know my poetry is of this kind
Naaliah Green Dec 2014
i am not sure of what i am supposed to believe
am i supposed to listen to the sway of the trees
or the buzzing of the bees

i am not sure of what will happen in
two minutes or even three
i am not sure of what will happen to
you and me

can things ever go back to how they used to be
when simplicity overthrew
the torrent storms
of insanity
  Dec 2014 Naaliah Green
Aquinas
Do you remember
What we talked about then?
Lit by the thin moon and under the stars
They praised us like pedestrians praise oncoming cars
And we were inside, solving crimes
When we dug our graves that night

And I miss your touch like tomorrow's sun
Misses the moon and the horizon
It's a shame that it's the truth
A hundred bottles down are you still the sleuth
You were back then? With your tongue made of poison
Not everything lasts like the aftertaste of a bad relationship
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