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I want to sleep forever
Rest my head and never wake
My dreams are so impeccable
They take away the ache

I want to sleep forever
Beside your perfect smile
And if I ever wake
Seeing you would make it worthwhile

I want to sleep forever
Close my eyes as time goes by
That way, I will never
Have to be there for the painful goodbyes

I want to sleep forever
Then wake in paradise
There i'll meet my uncle
there, I'll finally see his eyes
the heart aches
like
earthquakes.

today
i allowed myself to feel
heartbreak
one very last time for you.

the sun was settling,
silhouetting the city

it felt like
the burial site of massacred dreams.
my intelligence is not defined by a number, nor a letter.
nor should I be graded on a curve
by people
who don’t know me.
What does knowing the pythagorean theorem
have to do with me being a good person?
what will memorizing words on a page
help me with my rage
raging about how education has become
this conveyor belt
chewing up and spitting out
society’s warped up idea
of intelligence.
Throw me in a classroom with twenty-something students
just to tell me I’m better than him
but not as smart as her
teachers saturating our brains
with force fed textbook equations
telling us this is what we have to know to make it
“make it on time”, they say
“Passing it in late is not okay”
but when I am eventually thrown out
of this conveyor belt of education
the realization will be that life does not have
a set schedule.
my life will not change on time, as you ask
I cannot cram my creativity onto a five-paragraph
piece of paper.
I cannot crunch my knowledge
down onto six pages
about who I am
Don’t give me guidelines
my future does not have guidelines
you think you’re teaching us information
but in reality, you’re teaching us around the system
of how to get a passing grade
but not the exceeding knowledge
knowledge about what?
Our history?
what about our future?
We can’t learn about our future by staring at a blackboard
in a dim-lit room
with twenty-something other people
wondering what the hell we’re doing here
but being too scared to stand up
and ask.
A collaboration between my friend and I, this is what we came out with
To the would be
beauty princess
who was almost  
a would be Beauty Queen
But was not quite good enough
This is a would be poem
to all the
would be
pretties
if they weren't so unique
to the few
would be
rockers
if they could stand up and be talkers
to all the would be
intellectuals
if all they said was factual
This is a would be poem
to all the would be's
who couldn't be
who shouldn't be
So please tell me
Why
all of these would be's
are never
Will be's
Or even
Have beens
because even that is still better than
Never tried
Or even
Unknown's
Because sometimes the worst thing is
Not knowing
Having no idea of what would've been
instead wondering what
could've been
So this is a poem to the would be
lovely pageant girls
who could've had the world
but were sat down and told
by someone too old
that the world is too cold
and they would never
Make it
Fake it
Break it
break the idea of different
make the change
This is to all my would be brothers and sisters
Who don't have
Can't have
Who never had
The Chance
become
**I am's
If she could go back and change anything
She would gather her courage and stand
Just half an inch taller,
And sacrifice the bits of her heart you already devoured,
For the chance to maintain her self respect.
What the hell was she thinking?
Head reeling eyes blinking,
Bound like she owed you more than
The every bit of everything she already gave you,
she made you more important than herself,
She must have momentarily forgotten she’s a
Little embodiment of humanity
Lost in love and insanity,
You are less of a man than any body
You jump at the chance
To lose your empathy, drive, your capacity
To experience your life
The “opportunity” to care for nothing.
But you were nothing less
Than selfish…
Cutting it close to a monster
You always hoped she would remember
Just know you are the mistakes that still haunt her.
She talks of all the times she should have walked
And wonders if you ever really loved her.  
You made her hurt so much harder but
Honestly shes tougher
And in the dark she doesn't cry
She often smiles, it took awhile but it doesn't matter,
you will never ever touch her
shes on fire,
the kind that turns heads and breaths laughter
and chases faster than hard liquor and starts
working  quicker than all the drugs on your brain.
Lazy attempts to numb everything.
She so much better, lighter brighter and burning hotter.
Its probably a hard thing admittedly
to be the dumb-*** that didn't want her.
 Feb 2013 Shannon Kelly
Ahmad Cox
There are some people
That are stuck in life
That don't know how
To get out of the rut of
The rat race if the door
Was sitting right in front
Of their faces and there
Was a sign saying exit here
Or if their very lives and
Existence depended on them
Rejecting the rat race and
Finding the door for
Themselves they would
Rather eat the poison
And die than live
And be free from
The race of the grind
These people I call lifers
They have a "life" plan
Or "life" goals that they
Want to follow and
They have to follow
The road to success
To make it to the top
Buying into the "life"
Or the American dream
That is toxic and deadly
To begin with and will
Ultimately lead to the
Destruction of your
Soul and your mind
And yourself trying
To keep up with the "life
You have to be willing
To let go of the material
And let go of the rat race
And find the truth behind
Life and true happiness
Is to give and to receive
Rather than trying to
Take whatever you can
From whoever you can
Just to support your "life".
I am a collector of things, he said
Of all I can fit in my head
Hoarding the ghosts  I have come to displace
Vicarious grins on my face
But standing beside the lot I've arranged
I conclude I am slightly deranged
The rope that I hold becomes heavy and loose
And ties itself into a noose
Somehow it dresses the nape of my neck
Like the sea wears a ship in a wreck
There is no space in my mind anymore
And I'm waiting outside by the shore
Hang up the line that contains what I am
Remind me that I'm just a man
Corruptible
Doe eyed girl, well-versed in pretending
Wolf toothed musician, jaded by poisonous prey.
Bundled up in three dollar beers,
They weather the storm
And cremate their words.
For the same friend.
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