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Gwendolyn Jul 2013
My conscience
That has been there
Since I was four
Making sure
That I wasn't in trouble

She is string
She holds me together
She is a storm
Starts chaos
She is a two sided coin

Long, straight brown hair
Chocolate eyes
Freckles cover her face
Extremely tall

She is string
She holds me together
She is a storm
Starts chaos
She is a two sided coin

Shy, but outgoing
Depending on who's around
Impossible to stay mad at
Makes bad choices
From time to time

She is string
She holds me together
She is a storm
Starts chaos
She is a two sided coin


Silent treatments
Loud fights
Best Friends

She is string
She holds me together
She is a storm
Starts chaos
She is a two sided coin

She is a rock
She is string
She holds things together
She calms the sea
Or starts a storm

She is string
She holds me together
She is a storm
Starts chaos
She is a two sided coin

Embarrassing moments
Weird looks
Always crazy
She gets through the bad things
Helps start the good

She is string
She holds me together
She is a storm
Starts chaos
She is a two sided coin

Puzzles, swim team
Life changing
Life calming
Starts Chaos
She is string
She holds me together
She is a storm
Starts chaos
She is a two sided coin

Two sides
Same coin
Same person
Different personalities
Quiet in public
Crazy in not

She is string
She holds me together
She is a storm
Starts chaos
She is a two sided coin

Keeps things going
She is a bank
A bank of secrets
She keeps the vault
Locked

She is string
She holds me together
She is a storm
Starts chaos
She is a two sided coin

She is like a storm
And the calm before it
Chaos and control




She is string
She holds me together
She is a storm
Starts chaos
She is a two sided coin

Listens to music
Like the rest of the world
But yet, doesn't conform
At least not completely

She is string
She holds me together
She is a storm
Starts chaos
She is a two sided coin

Easily molded
But not easily shaped
She is not always there
Yet she is


She is string
She holds me together
She is a storm
Starts chaos
She is a two sided coin

She taught me
That I
Didn't have
To be
Completely
Alone
When tomorrow starts without me, I will not be here to see,
That the sun will rise and find your eyes; filled with tears for me,
But please know you're always in my heart, and I will forever love you,
And know, each time you think of me, I will be missing you too.

When tomorrow starts without me, I need you to understand,
That an angel came, he called my name and took me by the hand.
He told me it was time to go up to heaven far above,
And that I have to leave behind all those I dearly love.

When tomorrow starts without me, I know that you will cry,
For all my life I’d always thought that I would never die.
I had so much life ahead of me; I had so much to do,
It seems almost impossible that I was leaving you.

When tomorrow starts without me, I think of the good days, and the bad,
I thought of all our fights, next to all the fun we had.
If I could have stayed, just for a little while,
I would say I'd always be here, and then I'd make you smile.

When tomorrow starts without me, I'll realise that this could never be,
As all that would be left of me, is frozen in memories.
Then I thought of all the beautiful things that I would miss tomorrow,
I thought of you and when I did my heart was filled with sorrow.

When tomorrow starts without me I will walk through heaven’s gate,
I will feel at home even without my soul mate.
I know this is what I wanted, deep down within my bones,
And God looked down and smiled at me from his great golden throne.

When tomorrow starts without me I see everything He promised me,
“Today your life on earth is past, and now you can be free.”
“I promise no tomorrow as today will always last,
And since it's all the same you will not be longing for the past.”

So when tomorrow starts without me don’t think we’re far apart,
For every time you think of me I’m right here in your heart.
Rachel Sterling Oct 2010
it starts with such innocence
the roles of nurse/mother/babysitter
always have i slipped
into far too easily

it starts with a drunk man
a hurt man
a problem child
with giant man-child problems

it starts with a text
‘can we talk I’m lonely?’
‘can we talk I’m concussed?’
‘can we talk I need comfort?’

it starts with my answer.
‘sure let us talk and walk.’
‘awe don’t go to sleep.’
‘yeah I’ll be right there.’

it starts with small talk
small talk moves inside
inside moves upstairs
upstairs moves to a bed

it starts with sleep
simple chaste sleep
back to back sleep
under separate sheets
sleep

it starts with a roll
“you’re comfortable”
"you calm me down"
wrap me in strong, gorgeous arms

it starts with arms
arms and legs and faces
all tangled up and groggy
groggy with sleep and alcohol

it starts with awake
I am now awake
man-child kissing my face
still wrapped in his arms

it starts with surrender
surrender and melting
melting into man-child
all his beautiful problems mine

it starts with passion
sculpted chest heaving
hearts racing
lips and hands groping

it starts with leaving
now sober and guilty
satisfied and exhausted
handsome still

it ends with alone
Copyright Rachel Sterling
Gabrielle EH Jan 2015
This is how it starts.
You smile. Mumble some excuse about why you're here.
It's only an excuse. You meant to be there.
He holds the door open, and you walk through.

This is how it starts.
You smile. Remember some inside joke. Tell him, "don't you remember..."
He remembers, and your heart hurts.

This is how it starts.
You smile. Know it's all wrong. Don't care, because it feels right.
It feels right to him, too. It always did.

This is how it starts.
You frown. Your friends tell you stories. Stories you remember.
They're wrong they're wrong they're wrong. They don't understand.
It feels right again. It always did.

This is how it starts.
You frown. There's a blip. You don't tell your friends. They don't need to know.
It feels right again. Doesn't it?

This is how it starts.
You cry. His eyes were on fire. He said words.  Words he swore he never would.
It doesn't feel right again.

This is how it starts.
You cry. You tear up photos. Blast "We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together".
It feels wrong again. It always did.

This is how it starts.
But this time it'll end.
Alan W Jankowski Dec 2011
Grandpa sits in his favorite chair,
Spots his granddaughter and starts to stare,
Whips out his **** and starts to stroke,
He knows it’s his granddaughter he wants to poke,
Calls her over and says, “Pretty please.”
Come on granddaughter get on your knees,
She does as she’s told and ***** him with zest,
Because she knows ****** is best.

Uncle Roy decides to give it a whirl,
He likes to dress his nephew up as a girl,
Likes to see him in silk and lace,
Lipstick and makeup on his face,
Imagining him with heels on his feet,
As he sits there and starts to stroke his meat,
He’d love to put him to the test,
Because he knows ****** is best.

Mother decides to get in on the act,
Her and her son have a special pact,
While her husbands at work she gets in his bed,
Pulls down his pants and starts giving him head,
Son likes his mom dressed up in her lace,
As he shoots his load all over her face,
He knows his mom is better than the rest,
Because he knows ****** is best.

Sister and brother are a special pair,
It’s more than a last name these two share,
Brother Bill can’t believe his luck,
Having a sister that likes to ****,
Says, “Hey Sis, come on over here.”
As he bends her over and takes her rear,
Going at it like animals it becomes a real fuckfest,
Because they both know ****** is best.

Father can’t believe his daughter is so kind,
She’s on her knees as he takes her behind,
She moans and screams and starts to cry,
Says, “Hey Daddy, you’re my kind of guy.”
Daddy tells her ****** is the better way,
It’s a game the whole family can play,
Daddy treats his daughter like an honored guest,
Because they both know ****** is best.

11-27-09b.
Far and away my most read poem, except perhaps my 9-11 Tribute thingy...this poem gets well over 1000 views per month on one ****** story site alone...and yes, it's done with more than a hint of humor...the line "******, a game the whole family can play" is something a friend of mine used to say back in high school...:)
grace snoddy Dec 2017
a new beginning starts here.
when we let the absence of words
sink in our skin and flow through
the red and blue veins.
to let silence become apart of us as a whole.
and to be ridden of awkward
and gently colored with tranquility.
when we are consumed with the most
heavenly stillness,
we appreciate the things
that normally don’t come to eye.

a new beginning starts here.
an interconnection manifested in the
deficiency of conversation.
it is an ambience that is better than any
formulation of sentences,
and our unspoken vowels and consonants
playfully roll around
in the quiet rest of the atmosphere;
it speaks louder than your steady heartbeat
and collected breathing.
Aaron Gill Jun 2012
The night starts off with a bang
She enters the room
And the spotlight starts to change.
It hits her as she walks through the door
An aisle splits down the center of the dance floor.
She starts to walk towards the stage
And then the music slowly plays.

The lights go up and the music plays
She dances around this tiny place.
The spotlight fades and she quickly turns
He’s never seen someone with such grace.
He grabs a mic and starts to pace.
His lips open up and he starts to sing
A song about a forgotten place.

Tonight we gather in this dance hall
Everyone is looking for a way to let their feelings out.
It takes two to tango and I think I’m ready
To sweep you off your feet.
We’ll count the steps as one, two, three
And act out a story between swaying bodies.
A small twist here and pirouette there
Is all it takes to make this kids heart start to race.
So let’s start this off with a twist
and end it with a dip
As we start to move you’ll feel the rhythm
Start to move you as it takes control of your hips.

They dance the night away
And he continues to sing.
All this dancing has all
But burned a ring into the floor.
They keep moving circles
Counting out the steps
As one, two, three.
That final move will be one
That will forever remain in history.
He lifts her to the sky
And then she starts to see
In his arms is where
This dancer was meant to be.
lilly  Nov 2017
a story
lilly Nov 2017
.

page one
it starts with the wave of a hand
a simple introduction
'hi, what's your name?'
it starts with looking and seeing nothing but what is there
skin and bones and blemishes and human
it starts with feeling no cliche butterflies in your stomach
and no additional voice in your head
amongst the others
and no rapid pulse in your still-beating heart

page two
somewhere along the way the waves turn into inside jokes and small smiles
crinkles by the corners of eyes
and light chuckles
and glancing just a millisecond too long

page three
and, well, glancing just a million times too often

page four
and you write poems in attempts to make yourself believe
to drown yourself in denial
to avoid confronting the - nonexistent - blooming bud growing
sprouting from all angled corners
and cracking curves
and jagged edges of you

page five
spoiler: it doesn't work

page six
and it's strange because apart from seeing what is there you see more
or really you don't see what is there
you see what you want to be there

page seven
you see skin and bones and beauty and freckles and stars and constellations in eyes and ethereal -

page eight
perfection

page nine
except perfection doesn't exist
and what you see doesn't exist
it's just your unrealistic expectations piled up from miles and smiles of movies and books and manga and everything

page nine
and you know this

page nine
but it goes into one ear and out the other

page nine
and it doesn't stop you from claiming

page nine
you're in love

page ten
if love is just infatuation with a physical manifestation of your ideals without their consent
then i guess you're right

page eleven
there are butterflies bending, banging on you, begging to be released

you wonder when your definition of beauty became a name and a face
and you wonder when love became synonymous to pain

page twelve
the butterflies turn into birds and then bears and then freaking buildings
except these building are moving and apparently earthquake proof because you can't seem to break them down
instead the buildings are breaking you down

but the truth is no, no they aren't
don't you see?
you're breaking yourself down

how do you heal if you are both the poison and the antidote?

page thirteen
if only you could rewrite the story
but how could you?
how do you rip the pages
how do you erase the sickeningly sweet
slow stabs slicing through your spine every time a smile is sent your way
how do you mute the thudding in your brain telling you that this could never be
how do you ignore the extra echoes in your head yelling at you to get yourself together

how do you get yourself together?

page fourteen
you've been asking so many questions lately
but you know the answer to all of them

page fifteen
there's a small voice
a minuscule, malevolent voice whispering maybe
whispering maybe and perhaps and potentially
maybe you're not the only one who wants to hold on just a little longer

page sixteen
but see
it's funny how the story starts with two people and now it's just one person with an overactive imagination
illustrating a person as something more
something better

page seventeen
but you're not creative enough to keep your illusion for too long
and soon you start to see less of what you want to be there and more of what is there
skin and bones and blemishes
and human

human

page eighteen
human is ugly and human is cruel and human is wretched
but human is somewhat
beautiful
in its ugliness
and human is raw in all its dishonestly
and human is real
even if you made it out not to be

page nineteen
you will never truly now human
you will never truly know anyone or anything that isn't a figment of your imagination
but it's enough

page twenty
it starts with seeing nothing but what is there
skin and bones and blemishes
and human
and then it ends
the story ends somewhere
anywhere really
but it ends
it always ends
lilli carter May 2019
heartbreak starts before the end
it starts the first time he lets you down
the first time he says yes
and then says sorry, i’m so sorry
i’m tired and i have this and this
and this but i’ll make it up to you
he says, i’ll make it up to you
and that’s when it starts.
that’s when you know
you’re in too deep
because he was too tired
and you were disappointed
and held your pillow tight
and wished he checked his phone more.
it starts the first time you make
an excuse for him
“he was up late studying”
you say
“it’s 4pm”, they argue,
but he sleeps late, or he had an exam,
or he’s tired today
you say, and bite your lip
“he’s had a long week,
he wishes he could be here”
or you think he would
if he could just wake
UP, it starts the moment you
are genuinely annoyed
with something he does,
the second you think
for the love of a god you don’t believe in, boy,
am i not enough to keep your eyes open,
please, wake up, i’m here, i’m here
i’m right here next to you
it starts the moment his friend runs
and hugs you, and says i saw
him, this morning
when he didn’t text you back,
when you were telling your friends
he cared so much,
she saw him,
i saw him, she says,
this morning, and i told him
she says, in the way
all his friends talk,
like they know you, like you belong,
i saw his girlfriend, she said,
and he said
you’re not his girlfriend,
i’m not, you say, i’m not
through a smile and you feel it,
you feel it start in your chest,
and that’s it, that’s what it feels like,
that’s the moment, after it starts,
far after it starts, because you can’t
even get to the good part until it starts,
but that ache behind your eyes,
and in the very center of your stomach
and in your anchor line to earth,
you feel the tug go slack
you can actually feel yourself
start to drift away
ever so slightly,
and that’s when you know
for sure that it’s started
it’s like crying over a dog video
and sore ***** after taking off a bra
and finally feeling a cramp
you know what’s coming
you’ve known what’s coming
you saw the signs, from the very beginning
you stayed up all night talking to him,
and you had a class the next day
but you refused to go to sleep,
you knew what was coming when he said
he was leaving
you knew he was leaving
not just here
not just home
but this stage of life
this life we live together, separately
will change to something
you can’t share
you don’t WANT to share
you knew this was coming
but that’s the next stage, you see, is knowing,
and you know before it’s over
you’ve had your best day
you’ve had your best kiss
you’ve had your best
and now you just have each other
in bits
and pieces
and short blue bubbles on blurry screens
full of empty words,
you know he’s scared
but he won’t talk about it
not to you
that’s not your role
you’re the distraction
you love him?
if not then why does the phrase
echo in your head while stirring pasta
while changing lanes and folding clothes
i love you, i love you, i love you
they mock, you don’t love him
you don’t know him
except you know how dark
and round his eyes get when he’s
terrified and the way he sings to you
when you’re drunk and no one else
can see and that he likes
4 doritos locos tacos with sour cream
and no ice in his soft drinks
because it waters them down,
you love all the parts of him you know
even the part of him that
sets five alarms and still misses
the radio show at 1pm.
you love him?
let him break your heart
it’s the only way real love ever ends
you knew it was coming
you know it’s coming
and it’s an honor to have your heart broken by him
Hisham Alshaikh Jul 2018
You laugh
Angels weep out of jealousy
Devils have no single conspiracy
Demons dancing in harmony
Men hearts go broken with no remedy
Women eyes tearing continuously
Violins break out of envy terribly
Composers have no more creativity
Music plays with no melody
Silence starts listening joyfully
Happiness laughters left in agony
Beautiful words describe nothing but misery
Tulip flowers become colorless shamefully
Believers lose their faith immediately
Infidels drop their convictions instantly
Hearts start beating rapidly
Lungs oxygenating quickly
Living ones laying listening carefully
The dead come back miraculously

--Hisham Alshaikh
You Laugh. Version 1.
When a man starts out with nothing,
When a man starts out with his hands
Empty, but clean,
When a man starts to build a world,
He starts first with himself
And the faith that is in his heart-
The strength there,
The will there to build.

First in the heart is the dream-
Then the mind starts seeking a way.
His eyes look out on the world,
On the great wooded world,
On the rich soil of the world,
On the rivers of the world.

The eyes see there materials for building,
See the difficulties, too, and the obstacles.
The mind seeks a way to overcome these obstacles.
The hand seeks tools to cut the wood,
To till the soil, and harness the power of the waters.
Then the hand seeks other hands to help,
A community of hands to help-
Thus the dream becomes not one man's dream alone,
But a community dream.
Not my dream alone, but our dream.
Not my world alone,
But your world and my world,
Belonging to all the hands who build.

A long time ago, but not too long ago,
Ships came from across the sea
Bringing the Pilgrims and prayer-makers,
Adventurers and ***** seekers,
Free men and indentured servants,
Slave men and slave masters, all new-
To a new world, America!

With billowing sails the galleons came
Bringing men and dreams, women and dreams.
In little bands together,
Heart reaching out to heart,
Hand reaching out to hand,
They began to build our land.
Some were free hands
Seeking a greater freedom,
Some were indentured hands
Hoping to find their freedom,
Some were slave hands
Guarding in their hearts the seed of freedom,
But the word was there always:
   Freedom.

Down into the earth went the plow
In the free hands and the slave hands,
In indentured hands and adventurous hands,
Turning the rich soil went the plow in many hands
That planted and harvested the food that fed
And the cotton that clothed America.
Clang against the trees went the ax into many hands
That hewed and shaped the rooftops of America.
Splash into the rivers and the seas went the boat-hulls
That moved and transported America.
Crack went the whips that drove the horses
Across the plains of America.
Free hands and slave hands,
Indentured hands, adventurous hands,
White hands and black hands
Held the plow handles,
Ax handles, hammer handles,
Launched the boats and whipped the horses
That fed and housed and moved America.
Thus together through labor,
All these hands made America.

Labor! Out of labor came villages
And the towns that grew cities.
Labor! Out of labor came the rowboats
And the sailboats and the steamboats,
Came the wagons, and the coaches,
Covered wagons, stage coaches,
Out of labor came the factories,
Came the foundries, came the railroads.
Came the marts and markets, shops and stores,
Came the mighty products moulded, manufactured,
Sold in shops, piled in warehouses,
Shipped the wide world over:
Out of labor-white hands and black hands-
Came the dream, the strength, the will,
And the way to build America.
Now it is Me here, and You there.
Now it's Manhattan, Chicago,
Seattle, New Orleans,
Boston and El Paso-
Now it's the U.S.A.

A long time ago, but not too long ago, a man said:
        ALL MEN ARE CREATED EQUAL--
        ENDOWED BY THEIR CREATOR
        WITH CERTAIN UNALIENABLE RIGHTS--
        AMONG THESE LIFE, LIBERTY
        AND THE PURSUIT OF HAPPINESS.
His name was Jefferson. There were slaves then,
But in their hearts the slaves believed him, too,
And silently too for granted
That what he said was also meant for them.
It was a long time ago,
But not so long ago at that, Lincoln said:
        NO MAN IS GOOD ENOUGH
        TO GOVERN ANOTHER MAN
        WITHOUT THAT OTHER'S CONSENT.
There were slaves then, too,
But in their hearts the slaves knew
What he said must be meant for every human being-
Else it had no meaning for anyone.
Then a man said:
        BETTER TO DIE FREE
        THAN TO LIVE SLAVES
He was a colored man who had been a slave
But had run away to freedom.
And the slaves knew
What Frederick Douglass said was true.

With John Brown at Harper's Ferry, Negroes died.
John Brown was hung.
Before the Civil War, days were dark,
And nobody knew for sure
When freedom would triumph
"Or if it would," thought some.
But others new it had to triumph.
In those dark days of slavery,
Guarding in their hearts the seed of freedom,
The slaves made up a song:
   Keep Your Hand On The Plow! Hold On!
That song meant just what it said: Hold On!
Freedom will come!
    Keep Your Hand On The Plow! Hold On!
Out of war it came, ****** and terrible!
But it came!
Some there were, as always,
Who doubted that the war would end right,
That the slaves would be free,
Or that the union would stand,
But now we know how it all came out.
Out of the darkest days for people and a nation,
We know now how it came out.
There was light when the battle clouds rolled away.
There was a great wooded land,
And men united as a nation.

America is a dream.
The poet says it was promises.
The people say it is promises-that will come true.
The people do not always say things out loud,
Nor write them down on paper.
The people often hold
Great thoughts in their deepest hearts
And sometimes only blunderingly express them,
Haltingly and stumblingly say them,
And faultily put them into practice.
The people do not always understand each other.
But there is, somewhere there,
Always the trying to understand,
And the trying to say,
"You are a man. Together we are building our land."

America!
Land created in common,
Dream nourished in common,
Keep your hand on the plow! Hold on!
If the house is not yet finished,
Don't be discouraged, builder!
If the fight is not yet won,
Don't be weary, soldier!
The plan and the pattern is here,
Woven from the beginning
Into the warp and woof of America:
        ALL MEN ARE CREATED EQUAL.
        NO MAN IS GOOD ENOUGH
        TO GOVERN ANOTHER MAN
        WITHOUT HIS CONSENT.
        BETTER DIE FREE,
        THAN TO LIVE SLAVES.
Who said those things? Americans!
Who owns those words? America!
Who is America? You, me!
We are America!
To the enemy who would conquer us from without,
We say, NO!
To the enemy who would divide
And conquer us from within,
We say, NO!
   FREEDOM!
     BROTHERHOOD!
         DEMOCRACY!
To all the enemies of these great words:
We say, NO!

A long time ago,
An enslaved people heading toward freedom
Made up a song:
     Keep Your Hand On The Plow! Hold On!
The plow plowed a new furrow
Across the field of history.
Into that furrow the freedom seed was dropped.
From that seed a tree grew, is growing, will ever grow.
That tree is for everybody,
For all America, for all the world.
May its branches spread and shelter grow
Until all races and all peoples know its shade.
     KEEP YOUR HAND ON THE PLOW! HOLD ON!

— The End —