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 Feb 2016 Poet kiri
Deyer
It's so easy
to write while grief spews from
the greatest depths of your character.
Everyone, too,
needs to read about the heartbreak,
the lingering heartache that makes
life decisions feel like clouds.
And it's so easy to give in
and put pitied pen to paper,
and the beautiful only
blossoms with agony, angst, and anger.
Infrequently, though,
can you really find the blood curdling words
that turn ache into anything but
agony. Only then
is a poet born.
I don't see you with
that pretty face anymore.

I now see you with a
shadowed soul that's pure and fragile,
a heart that beats with a thousand fragmented shades of love.

No, I don't see you
with that smile anymore.

I now see you as a dream, just a dream-- just waiting to finally come true to life.
 Feb 2016 Poet kiri
A Lopez
I drew a circle
On the map
On the steps
Of my flat
A place of
Serenity
Virtue and
Peace. I knew
Before this
Place of seats.
A seat to sit on,
Became recommenced,
Perched on a tree
In a lovely breeze,
High sprung I rung
Past the old self of
M
E.
Taking notes
Learning
Lessons.
Keeping memories
Of morning blessings,
Putting away in a casket
The fears and questions,
Now again I feel caressing.
I refuse to be one of those people
that everyone chooses to love once she is dead
Don't wait until I'm lifeless and can no longer hear you
to start giving a **** about me
If I wasn't good enough for you while I was alive
I sure as hell won't be good enough for you when I'm dead
If there is something you need to tell me
do it while I can still hear you
If you want to see me
make plans with me
If you love me
tell me while I am still here to love you back
Do not wait until I am a pile of ashes
to confess everything you ever wanted to say to me
WRITTEN BY: Mandie Michelle Sanders
WRITTEN ON: February. 25, 2016 Thursday 6:04 PM
 Feb 2016 Poet kiri
Megan Rae
I'm fat.
I'm weird.
I'm annoying.
I'm not pretty.
I'm crazy.
I'm obsessive.
I'm a chatter-box.

I've stolen things.
I lie.
I've lied to my parents.
I've lied to my friends.
I've lied about myself.
I've lied to myself.

I'm pathetic.

I wish that I could be a butterfly,
just pop into a little cocoon and transform.
And come out a brand new creation.

The old me tossed into a recycling bin,
and changed into something better.

Maybe...
                               One Day.

Think about it.
No one really like caterpillars.

They're fat and fuzzy.. like me.

But....
What if I'm already a butterfly?

Maybe I'm still in my caterpillar form,
waiting for the right time to change,
But I'll change!

I won't be a leftover.
And I won't be forgotten.

People will really see me for once,
and I won't be ghosting through crowds.

But until that day...
I have to accept me, for me.
This is how I feel, and it's an edited version of a poem I wrote a few years back.
 Feb 2016 Poet kiri
Grey
We link our minds
you are our mother
Direct us to the sun
Art, Love, Music, Rebel
a Warrior, eyes open
Wide mouth muse, give us our religion
Moon salutation, give us new praise
Reconnect, Brothers
Sisters, Reconnect
All the people of the earth
come greet your creator
The sun made stars on her cheeks
and eyes as dark as her skin
Sweet fire of the spirit
you give us rebirth
you give us ***** baptism
Shake free your slave name
follow the beat of the drum
the universal rhythm
She screams and blood runs hot
She lowers herself to the ground
She stand high with the masses
A teacher of humanity
of jazz and blues
hip hop rimshot soul
Culture that may not be ours
Still welcomes you
if you learn to feel
please listen to Erykah Badu sing The Healer live in Jakarta. It's life changing.
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