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 Apr 2019 ketashia
Monica
Beware
 Apr 2019 ketashia
Monica
His light shines bright
Reminds me of a street light
So bright
Like the sun
The color yellow
To be cautious
Trying not to look directly into you
For I know there are warning signs
That I'm not paying close attention to
A star that twinkles
Only to find out you're fire
You're a danger
That my heart simply desires
A street light inspired this poem
 Mar 2019 ketashia
Claresha
I am
Weak and easily torn.
You are
Bold and sharp
Your words matter
I don't have any words
You write on me and use me
I'm helpless to do anything
I am
Flimsy and flat
You are
Strong and powerful
You mark on all the paper you have
And we are powerless to do anything
 Mar 2019 ketashia
free spirit
Sleep
 Mar 2019 ketashia
free spirit
Plastic kills the sea
The tides and animals die
Gently the earth sleeps
 Mar 2019 ketashia
Lot
It has come to my attention that packing peanuts and unhappiness are one and the same.
But how is that so?
Well, it’s because they both seem to infiltrate everything, and have a knack for sticking to every little nook and cranny in life.
Problems seem to create excess static electricity, attracting all sorts of consequences.
Rumination helps me create weird analogies.
 Mar 2019 ketashia
Phoebe johnson
That caught your attention.

But the moments leading up to it didn’t.
Not mine. Saw this. Thought everyone should see it too
Hundreds of poems
Were never enough.
So I gave up writing
For someone who'd
Never understand
Depths; the essence,
The timelessness
Of my words.
 Mar 2019 ketashia
MicMag
Viral
 Mar 2019 ketashia
MicMag
What's it take
These days

To write a poem

That makes the world go mad
That brings the crowds to their feet
That spreads like wildfire
Through a dry winter forest

Is it those excessively long words?
The ostentatiously loquacious
Platitudinous ramblings
Of an insecure mind aspiring
To authentic intellect?

Is it perhaps...
     the "creativity"
               of      varied      spacing
  or...    could it be..... the lack
                              of capitalization
               the loathsome little letters
               screaming out
                         hey, look at us!
         ... or maybe it's
               the punctuation marks,
     littered, haphazardly
          through the text
                    (whether used correctly)
               or, theyre not?!
     despite worrds mispeled
          and a grammar might is broken
   can these gimmicks increase interest
        though miswritten or misspoken?

Is the trick alliteration
Whose bite brightly bids us
To center on the snappy sounds?
Although all along
     unvoiced underneath
Ideas idle in the isles
   (or perhaps the aisles)
Of the mind
To meld and craft and bind
Our thorough thoughts
And worthy words
Into lines
Which
Heard by herds
Raise the
                  Praise for which we
                  Privately, desperately
                  Pray

Maybe it's a magical mix
Of splendid in-your-head rhythm
Marvelous meter that perfectly clicks
Flowing smoothly without schism

Well-spaced stanzas
Well-used time
Well-crafted phrases
Well-thought-out rhymes

Well, maybe not...
     those gems are often ignored
     cast-aside, unread, even abhorred

Why?

Because the modern world
doesn't need your rules
your restrictions
your regulations
your misguided boundaries
your oppression
your antiquated ideas
   of "the right way"
   to write
   to speak
   to act
   to live
   to (fill in the blank)

No, what the modern world needs
is
Negation!
Contradiction!
Resistance!
Revolt!

And poetry whose words
Say the same thing
Repeat the same meaning
Echo the same lyrics
Rephrase the same thoughts
But in an ever-so-slightly
Different
Varied
Altered
Adjusted
Changed up way

Line
After line
Of synonyms
          over
               and
                    over
                         and
                              over
                                   again

-----

What's it take
These days

To not give in
To narcissism's spiral?

But more importantly:
What's it take

To make my poem go viral?
Only halfway cynically written, I swear!

— The End —