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 Oct 2012 Pep
Kaylin Martin
When I'm having a bad day,
a day where I know everything will go wrong,
but I have to get through it anyway
I ask to wear one of your sweatshirts.

And all throughout the day, I feel like I might be protected,
just by having the letters of your name on my back.
Even though wearing your sweatshirt is false security,
and even though everything through out the day still goes wrong..

When I get home, I put on some yoga pants and a pair of comfy socks;
I throw my hair in a bun and find my glasses,
sit down and watch TV while wearing your sweatshirt..

And finally,
I am safe.

I can smell your shampoo in the hood,
I can smell the soap that you use to wash your hands,
mixed with the smell of your lotion on the sleeves.
It seems like the warmth of your body is held in the soft cotton fibers,
and is now radiating back into me.

I can see all the times you've worn it on the couch watching movies,
or all of the times you pulled the hood around your face to escape the rain.
I think it may be a little sad that I am so grateful for a piece of clothing.

But it is yours,
therefore,
**it is mine.
 Oct 2012 Pep
Tallulah
Sticky Lust
 Oct 2012 Pep
Tallulah
Oh,
Sugar
Tendencies
To kiss those lips
Those hard candy hips
Delicately hot wrists
Floating chocolate freckles
& your bones like vanilla cream
I gulp up your every last sickly drop
Syrupy voice that still sticks in my mind
Conversations like a sweet nectar
A taffy tongue that twists & turns
I sip at your words like wine
But it can never be
Baby don’t you see?
I’m completely
Enamored
With a
*Girl
My first try with a syllabic poem- an etheree.
 Oct 2012 Pep
Escalus
Three Reasons
 Oct 2012 Pep
Escalus
Three siblings;
They are three of the best things in my life,
I write this as they play outside, I’m on my fall break and I haven’t seen them but two times this year (Including now)


I look to his little hand wrapped around my finger,
He’s only three,
He’s a brunette with blue eyes,
His laugh brightens my day,
He can’t say my name, whenever he sees me, no matter if I was only gone 5 minutes..
He  outstretches his arms and yells “Anya, I missed you!!”
He’s curious of the world.
He’s oblivious to the world’s wretched wonders around him,
He wants to analyze everything like we do,
He will only be like this for a short time..

I look at him, as he dribbles the soccer ball,
He’s five,
He’s a a brunette with blue eyes
His encouragement keeps me going,
He always asks me “Why can’t you be here everyday with us”?”
He thinks he is grown,
As if he could take on the entire world..

I look over to her; my only sister, she absorbed in poetry
She’s nine,
She’s a brunette with blue eyes,
Her smile eases the pain,
She’s so intelligent for her age; I see so much in store for her
She says “When I grow up, I want to be like you!”
She always talks about growing up…
She’s ready to break free

I’m the oldest sister,
I’m fifteen,
I’m blonde with green eyes,
Even being different from these three; age, looks, lifestyle.. For once I don't feel outcasted
My voice is recognized by them anywhere,
I vow every time they are near that I will protect them,
I always promise these kids “You’ll see me again...” I say as I walk to the car with packed bags
I always thought about leaving everything behind…
But these kids, are three reasons I’m still here.
I feel the caress of my own fingers
on my own neck as I place my collar
and think pityingly
of the kind women I have known.
 Oct 2012 Pep
Kim Jong Il
Untitled
 Oct 2012 Pep
Kim Jong Il
Hey you,

the one i like,

you’ve got a pretty soul.

Tell me,

is love only something that

pretty people

can produce?

I am

a poet

my soul

eager to the sky.

If I

tell how

I could rip myself open

and let the creatures fly out of my chest

be they eagles

be they Locusts

the meaning

will die.

As He said,

” thought once spoken

is untrue”

let me be silent

not speak at all

but explain myself

with kisses

on your

perfect skin.
 Oct 2012 Pep
W. H. Auden
At ***** ****'s and Sloppy Joe's
We drank our liquor straight,
Some went upstairs with Margery,
And some, alas, with Kate;
And two by two like cat and mouse
The homeless played at keeping house.

There Wealthy Meg, the Sailor's Friend,
And Marion, cow-eyed,
Opened their arms to me but I
Refused to step inside;
I was not looking for a cage
In which to mope my old age.

The nightingales are sobbing in
The orchards of our mothers,
And hearts that we broke long ago
Have long been breaking others;
Tears are round, the sea is deep:
Roll them overboard and sleep.
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