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 Oct 2014 matt
Ellie Shelley
Im working on convincing myself I don’t like you
And
Its
Not
Working
 Oct 2014 matt
Ellie Shelley
I can’t cope with my “dad”
Screaming at my mom
I can’t cope with my mom
Crying in the corner like she’s five
Crying like she lost a part of her self
Because she a part of herself when she married you
I can’t cope with living
With hiding my bruises
Scars
Scratches
I can’t live like this anymore
 Oct 2014 matt
Theara Steglaidias
R    R    R
O  O  O
  P  P  P
   EEE
   Our
  Tiny
Hands
  Would
    Grasp
       The
     Colorful
      Intertwined
         Threads as
           It keeps us
            All together.
               Our small frail
                 Faces grow and
                   The rope now fades
                      To brown becoming
                        Strength and freedom
                          Scaling mountains tall
                              And high. The rope
                              Is now saving the life
                               Of the man who slips
                                Or falls. It's amazing
                               How this small dusty
                               Rope, the one sitting
                                Thrown in the corner
                             The one that saves that
                        Mans life when tied
                    Into a circle loses the
                Meaning of life. It now
             Becomes a noose to
             Escape from your
          Dark days. That
      Same lifeline
  Now an end
To life. Now
Take that
Rope and
Twirl it high
Above your
Head watch
It become a
Game, and a
   Challenge full
     Of fun rope the
       Cows and grab your
         Friends which this rope
           Let's you catch. Now add
             A second circle and the
                Cowboy tool becomes a
                   Bow to tie your loves
                     Precious gift and teach
                       A child to work their shoe
                          Change the bow into a
                           Knot and it becomes
                         Your undoing, tying you
                     Back holding your hands
                  As you struggle with
               Your strenghth. It's
           Amazing how a
      worthless string
Of twisted twine
Becomes our
Entire lives
Saving them
Holding them
  Tying them
    Ending them
      Cheering them
        And keeping them
         To some it is a
    Collection of strings
Twisted to form a
Strong enough
Rope. To me
They are the
Strings of life
Put together to
Form our
stories
  R R R
O  O  O
P   P    P
E   E     E
Please comment, I'd love to hear what you have to say.
 Oct 2014 matt
Ellie Shelley
I must disconnect
Myself
From you
But How
Do I disconnect
Myself
From my life source
How do I disconnect
Myself From
Oxygen
How Do I disconnect
Myself From
You
I’m trying to
Be
on
my
own
 Oct 2014 matt
Sam Knaus
Ideas
 Oct 2014 matt
Sam Knaus
Every generation
has the leaders and the followers.
The popular kids and the geeks,
the kids who get high on the streets
and the kids who get high on cloud nine.
The artists and the poets,
the skaters, the stoners,
the musicians and the actors,
and we all have the kids
who are all of the above.
We all have the kids
who are none of the above.
Times change, yes
and trends come and go
but don’t tell me that I’m exceptional
not because of what I know
but because of the children
that surround me.
Don’t tell me to speak my dreams
and release my strife in the form of rhyme
because “few others you know do it”.
Passion is limitless,
passion is ageless
and while I’m being raised
in a generation of technology
and dramatic social media,
yolo and swag, pregnant teens
and 55-hour marriages-
I’m growing up
in a generation of artists,
a generation of dreamers,
a generation of doers,
and a generation
of freethinkers.
Freethinkers whose words
drip from their tongues like honey
and stain their pages in the world
like wine.
Students who get bored
with teachers wanting them to think
in 1’s and 0’s,
fit into standards,
speak in slanders
and begin to hyperventilate
because they can’t translate
what they think.
Kids who haven’t forgotten
that breathing in binary isn’t healthy.
Apparently, those that find
enough creative destruction in life to cheat the system
are going against the greater public’s
better judgement,
feeling free to sit and glare
at those who swear that they’re normal,
but I’m not growing up with those kids.
People who sit back and cry crocodile tears
for those who don’t know
what to think of themselves,
sitting back and laughing
at those who shudder and shake
at the thought of being caught in between
different sides of their minds
that they don’t know it’s okay to have…
but I’m not growing up with those people.
I’m growing up in a
group of rebels,
a group that will one day
run the nation-
a nation of tenacious activists,
wearing their minds
more professionally than
politicians wear their suits-
and with better ideas.
Because we have voices,
we have pens,
but most important
we have ideas,
ideas that can change the world,
change the world more
than poker-faced suits
and hate commercials
and picket signs
ever could.

— The End —