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F/USA    too busy smiling, crying, and chasing the shooting stars in the sky
Twilight Zone   
Outside Reality    We all end as shadows. Waiting For the end.

Poems

I can look for those that need a friend
Those who need attention
Those who need someone to talk to
Those who need someone tot play with
Those who need someone to understand how they feel
Those who need a pal

I look for those
Who need someone to share their feelings with
Those who need someone to share their interests
Those who want to be sociable
But are shy

I can look for those
Who need a rescue
Those who need a companion
Those who need a friend

Those who are terrified
Those who are petrified
Those who are terrorized
Those who need a friend

Those who want to frolic
Those who want to dance
Those who are frowning
Those who need a friend




I will look for those in pain  
Those that wish to rise again
Those that only want to be heard
Ignored by most and called absurd
Those who feel lost alone picked on and baited
Those who are
Those who wear a mask to hide their pain
Those who are stepped on for others gain
Those that are pushed down and can't get back up
Those who are feeling put down derived and stuck
Those who are on the brink of defeat
Who need people like me to get them back on their feet
Those who want to be able to follow their dreams
Those who have opportunity and potential that's bursting at the seams  
But are depressed and told that they won't succeed
Those who retreat from life into themselves
Those that believe that the world would be better without
Them there to burden the place and consider themselves a waste of space
Those who need to helped from hurting themselves
And believe that the life their living is on the plains of hell
Those who need a friend
A friend to help
a friend to confide
a friend to that will stay by their side
Those who need to see that the world shouldn't be a place of torment and terror
But a place they are needed and have those that care
Those that want a place where love fills the air
Where every one has time to spare to help a person in need
A place left untouched by pride and greed

Those that want to live their life
Free from those who cause them sorrow and strife  
Those that are pushed over the edge into a pit of grief
And wait for someone to come and give them relief
Those who are kicked and beaten
Those who are left in the street and
Wait for people like me to show them that they have more to be that just trash that people like we just throw away and leave it there cuz I'm am here to share that you that there are  those people out there
Those that want to stand above the crowd
Those that want to shout out loud

I.can make a difference
Something lost now found
something drafted now finished
Stephanie Keer Jun 2012
I lay in my bed with my pillows and blankets wrapped around me like a cocoon, the heater keeping the air at a warm-enough 66 degrees as this roof sits over my head and the walls circle around me keeping the snow out, and I say 'When is it my time?'. I lay in my bed with my light on and it illuminates the shadows and I see just outside my door, the kitchen, with a fridge full to the brim with food and drink and running water in the sink and an oven to cook out all the bacteria from my food so that I can eat, and I say 'When is it my time?'. I lay in my bed and outside my window I see a car, my link to the outside world, this pristine-filled with gas-driving machine that takes me to work and school so I can live my dream, and I say, 'When is it my time'?. I lay in my bed, and I forget for a moment, about every other living person out there, those that I know and those that I don't. Those without homes. Those without stoves, those without soles in their shoes. Those like me and those like you.

Those who were given a chance, those who were given a smack when they messed up daddy's dinner that they didn't even know how to make. Those who take from the stores what they need but can't afford cause they ain't had a job in a year cause no one wants a ***** off the street like you. Those who take from the poor. Those who are pumping your gas cause they couldn't pass a standardized test or make it to class. Those without a chance, and those without a choice or a voice of their own, who are given drugs and guns, and are told that 'man, if you wanna make it out here, you're gonna have to learn to ****'. Those who cry at night, cause even if they try with all their might, they're still given such a fright by their spouse that they can't just walk out. Those that are old. Those that are told 'you'll be doing a great service to your country son', and then they're given a gun and taught to **** against their will and have to come home ill cause they don't understand what they have done. Those with sons and daughters that they can't feed, that they beat cause 'that's what my daddy used to do to me, you see?'. Those with feet that aren't covered in shoes. Those who lose, and those with ***** filling the bottles they clutch in their hand cause they can’t stand the cold no more and the juice keeps them a little warm as the snow comes down on the bench where they’ll be sleeping tonight. Those who die, cause they were so desperate to fly away from here that they put a little too much in the needle this time. Those who lie just to try and get by. Those who were seeking affection but were lacking direction and therefore were lacking protection and then had those three choices and had to make a selection. Those who were striving for perfection but instead were driven to intravenous injection and every morning have to watch their own resurrection cause they’re sure a part of them died the night before. Those who are sore when they walk in the door after working 13 hours and they still have to cook dinner and put the kids to bed and there’s still that pile of laundry. Those who’ll smile cause they hope that things will be better, just in a little while. Those that are tired, and those who are trying. Those who are living. Those who are dying.

I lay in my bed and I forget about them, I ignore them till they go away and I say, as I look at my stuff and decide it's not enough and I say, with this dollar in my pocket and plastic in my wallet and I say, as I lay in my warm bed with no ache in my head and I say, 'When is it my time to finally have something go right?'.
This piece was written as a spoken-word poem, and has been presented so far in that fashion. Although I do enjoy it better when it's presented as spoken-word, when read I believe the message is still put across well. The poem was inspired by the novel "Last Exit to Brooklyn" by Hubert Selby Jr., as well as conversations involving privilege and oppression through a feminist lens. Some of the topics discussed in the piece can be difficult to read for some individuals.
Sketcher  Dec 2018
Those
Sketcher Dec 2018
There are those that love and those that lust,
Those that stay calm and those that combust,
Those that hate change and those that adjust,
Those that spread charm and those that disgust,
Those that can resist and those that rust,
Those that trek on and those that bite dust,
Those that doubt and those that can entrust,
Those kept quiet and those that discuss,
Those kept weak and those that are robust,
Those with a vocab and those who cuss,
Those off course and those who readjust,
Those of the bold and those that just blush,
Those who rest and those who make a fuss,
Those who speak soft and those who are shushed,
Those not denied and those who are crushed,
Those that don't care and those that ask, "What?".
All started with me thinking about the differences between love and lust and how I wish that I could feel lust like everyone else. Instead, I feel as if I feel love towards someone who doesn't feel the love back. It's only been a few months, but this absence of love has drawn out these few months into what feels like years. She says that she doesn't know what it feels like to love, because she has only felt lust. I wish I could show her... but instead... I decide not to feel...