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L Jun 2019
It becomes clear to me that growing into an adult has little to do with leaving anything behind, and more to do with the responsibility of knowing.
Forget your worries about keeping your soft animals. You can keep them. You can keep your colorful things. But think: what will you do with what you know?
This is the real question.

You are an adult, which only means that you have lived long enough now that you must decide what to do with your knowledge. It is your duty.
What will you do now that you have seen the world is not kind? Will you be kind in its place? Will you be kind to everyone you meet? Or will you hoard your kindness, like a tired dog whose fur has fallen in all its scars?

What will you do, now that you know fear and all its soldiers? Will you hurl rebellion in a glass bottle to those who weaponize it? Will you scream back at it when it tells you to silence yourself? Will you hold the other’s hand, when they tell you quietly, that they too are afraid?

What will you do, now that you know love and all its terrors? Will you embrace it? Will you work to move through it? Will you want it even after it shows you your lover’s own fears? Will you learn to swim in it, so that you don’t drown like children do?

What will you do now that you know suffering, despair, the state of all around you? Will you sit and watch? Will you turn away from duty, to keep your soft animals close and sigh, “I’m nothing but a pretty babe in the wood”? Or will you pick up your fists, and march towards that which needs changing, with all the colorful things in your pocket, and the soft animal, sleeping safety back home?
What will you do, darling babe, now that you’ve grown, now that you know?

Decide. That is what the adults must do.
Blake Jun 2019
The strange occurrence of love,
is one to not indulge,
in a vision with no light,
the black is a loving home,
with broken souls that become a gentle touch,
what once was blue from blurs of youth,
is grey with undignified truth,
do I ditch the spoken or the seen,
the felt or the unreality,
the body or the soul,
the heart or my cold bones,
echoes of conscious and the unwilled,
fireflies and deaths of stillness,
a mix of nothing and the scrape of something,
the lack of knowledge about my understanding,
mix of thoughts and lack of action,
seems my mind has turned into
a poisoned slushi of carnage
and
dying passion.
blushing prince Jun 2019
the ivy grows upwards
clawing at a ceiling fan  
looking to catch a glimpse of movement
the dust collecting on the blades is only proof of it's constant use
propelling a back and forth lasso of breath and exhale

my body has grown since last summer
the color of my eye mimicking jars of honey on your favorite shelf
I used to seek out momentum, the tumult of a sweaty night or the ongoing pulse of crowded people in small houses laughing about the spilled wine on hardwood floors
I can't tell if I was ever that person or if she was a catalyst of boredom swamping my every decision-making unable to make one properly for myself

I want noise and quiet
gritting teeth but a perfect mouth
I can't help but think of all my bones when walking outside
keeping me upright and unbreakable if only a shadowy and milky illusion
those places in my mind keep collecting freckles of dust and the people I've left behind now have blurry faces and unrecognizable personalities
but where there was once melancholy for different times
there's only a dog pulling me forward as the ivy grows up
its me i'm the ivy
Keiya Tasire Jun 2019
Something Begins to Arise.
What is it?
Is it  this a dream?
How can it be?
I am not happy!!!

Tantrums
It is NOT Love!!
It is SUPPOSE to be about Love!
This is NOT about Love!
WHO'S DREAM IS IT!!!!?
This is NOT what I want!

Seeds of Awareness
Am I living someone's dream?
What do you mean it is not my dream?

Inner War
What do you mean it 's a program!
No, you are out of your mind!
I refuse to believe it!!
Where did it come from?
How did it happen?
Who is doing this?
No it can't be!
What is it's roots?
What are it's branches?
All I want is to be loved!
All I want is to be happy?
No things! I will not! I refuse to strive for riches!
NO! I will not be a LAWYER!
NO!  I will not be a BANKER like you!
Riches! Riches! Riches! Don't you care about LOVE? !!!!
Does Love even exist in your heart for me?
Or is it a lie too?!!!

My Anger Stirs
Seeps from every pore!
How can this be?
Lies!
It's ALL lies!!!
There was an uneasy sense of awareness when I begin to remember the pain and core of my suffering as I grew up. Within myself, I realize that I did not have the power to effect a change in my life for the better as a child or a teenager. I was still within the illusion of my cultural's & family's illusionary dream. As an adult, I become aware that I can choose differently. My anger pushed me on to take the needed steps toward creating something different in my own life.
Nikki May 2019
If pressed, I wouldn’t say that I’m unhappy
To leave one home for another,
But that I’m living in the future
And thusly have no control over my surroundings,
For they do not–might not ever–exist, and the I today and the I of June
Are distant relatives.

So, if further proposed the question
Of whether or not I grieve,
I’d reply that this town is like a loved one
Who I shall only visit on leap years,
And decisions are as deaths.
When I go, I’ll leave a piece behind forever.

If asked, I might not disclose
That the fresh wound of impatient joy harbors a quiet fear
Of disappearing into Ventnor City
From the hearts of those who are still in mine.

Yet, should one wonder
If I might reconsider,
I’d reply that decisions are as new lives.
When I arrive, I’ll weep with uncertainty.
I’ll meet the I of June on the shoreline.
I’ll feel the boardwalk under my feet and realize, with a start,
I’m home.
Allen James May 2019
When I was young
I spawned universes out of sand,
Made companions out of stones,
And won epic battles
with only a few good plastic men,

And so when my toys were traded
for life’s unexpected challenges,
I did what I do best,
And created a catastrophe.
When I was four my brother use to catch me snakes, and my sister would buy me donuts, my dad would take me fishing, and my mom would sing to me.

When I was five, my brother could only call me to say he missed me, my sister would write me letters, my dad would drink until the wee hours of the morning,
And my mom was just gone.

I remember sitting in the court house wondering what was happening

“He can have her”

And that was the last time my family was together.

My dad raised me on his own.
A single alcoholic father, raising a little girl
Was not something people were use too.

We lived in a small town, and so they would whisper about the mother who left me behind, and the father that was always drunk.

But even at 5 years old I didn’t mind being alone. My father loved me with all he had, I knew that in my bones.

So the years passed, just the two of us, in a house with empty bedrooms but not empty hearts. I became accustomed to taking care of my fathers hangovers, and walked myself to school, and every Mother’s Day I made my dad a card and picked my neighbors flowers to put in a vase. Though I wondered where my mother was, and why my siblings lived somewhere else, I never once wished my life where different. It was all I knew.
I learned to catch my own snakes, and my dad would buy me donuts, and take me fishing, and sing for me.

From time to time I’d cry silently in my bedroom, wondering why they left. But as I got older I understood that not every family is meant to stay together, that not everyone who has kids is ready to raise them, and that people can fall out of love.

These were all hard lessons, and I learned them early on, but I wouldn’t change a thing, it made me who I am.

My father did finally get sober, and my mother came back into my life, my brother had children, they hang off my arms when I visit, my sister calls me every week, I even have a new brother who looks up to me.

The three paper routes I had as a kid to help my father pay the bills taught me the importance of hard work, the long nights my dad partied taught me to appreciate a good nights sleep, and my family’s separation taught me to cherish what you have.

Nothing’s promised, anything can be taken, so live your life without regrets.
And don’t forget to tell your dad you love them, tell your mother your forgive her, and hug your siblings as often as you can.
Kaiden A Ward May 2019
Before my brother grew up and forgot the colors of the sky,
He shared with me a secret.
That to become invisible, one only needs to climb,
For most adults have forgotten the shape of the world
Beyond their shoelaces.

Barren, winter-worn branches stretch gray
Against the timid rays of the springtime sun,
Coaxing forth tiny, vibrant leaves that
Will age to weave themselves into the walls of
The sanctuary I inherited from my brother.

Wedged between the highest limbs,
I disappeared.
Peering between the wrestling leaves
Of my favorite maple tree,
I marveled at all I could not see,
Reaching out to trace the sharp indigo mountains
From which mystic creatures rose
To claim the expanse of my imagination.
Here, I lost myself
In realms of endless fantasy.

Now, the seasons cycle past, each spring
Rebuilding the leaf-bricked castle
Of my childhood, but
The creatures I once knew have faded from existence,
For I, too, am forgetting the colors of the sky.
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