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Melissa Fayard Nov 2019
I really never use the word hate
But boy do I hate when people ask me if I’m okay
Mainly because I can never gather the words
To tell them how I really feel. But if
You’re looking for my answer to that question
It goes a little something like this.
“No I’m not okay. I’m breaking into a million
Pieces right in front of everyone and no one notices.
I’m losing weight and it’s not from working out.
My thoughts are creating a hurricane in my brain
And I can not calm the storm.
My heart is a battlefield at war with my mind
And I’m afraid I’m losing this battle.”
But wait there’s more...
“My nose hurts from snorting to many lines of insecurity, my arms are weak from trying to pull myself out of all this self doubt and worry, my wrists are wounded from the cuts I allowed others to make.
My smile has been playing hide and seek for awhile now and I’m still searching for it... by the time I find it I may just be 6 feet under.. which doesn’t sound like
A bad idea... I’m tired. I want to sleep.
I think I’m going to take the rest of this pain medicine
Because this pain is to deep, the wounds won’t heal
And hell im tired of feeling. So I think I want to sleep.
Yeah. That’s what I want to do sleep and be at peace”  But instead I’ll smoke this blunt filled
With fake I love yous and it’ll be alrights, to numb the pain for a little while. Instead I’ll drink this whiskey until I’ve drowned out all this feeling. Instead I’ll just say goodnight and sleep to forget about being alive for a little while. But trust me “I’m okay”
Thorns Dec 2018
SPEAK and be heard, or cower and be silent.-Thorns
Donielle Oct 2017
Lower your voice and soften your tone, if they're listening
they'll still hear you.
Sherry Lore Sep 2015
I always wanted to do spoken word poetry,
but paper is too forgiving.  
It's so easy to pour onto paper
what you think,
how you feel.  
To become what they want...
expect, hope, fantasize...
to hear.  

If there's a misspelled word:
bitterness, anger, frustration, blame...
there is always the spell check.

Or if there's a typo:
misunderstanding, miscommunication,
misappropriation... miss-everything...
there is the backspace key.  

And if all else fails,
and the words are too much:
too far, too long... so long...
there's always delete.  
And start again.

Paper is too forgiving,
I've imagined how it feels:
scribbled on, removed from, blotted out.  
And then discarded once I've been read,
or not.  

I mean, how much paper is recycled
that's never even been touched...
till it's tossed into shredder to be
reshaped, remolded, reconstituted...
to become something else.  

How many poems are written
that never even get read.  
At least words spoken out loud
have a chance if screamed...
or whispered...
loud enough,
to get heard.

Yes, paper is too forgiving
I started writing this as a journal entry and it turned into something else.
David Montgomery May 2015
so sick of the media hype
got drones whatching over
watching what you type,
heard a runner for the big job say,
if you were thinking about joining,
the dark side,
he'd **** you with a drone ray,
no trial, no qualms,
no lawyer, no Psalms,
they'll **** you
if it looks like you "might"
get blood on your palms,
who reads minds to see?
when did we lose democracy?
Since when did the land of the free,
become the land of the huddling masses,
and afraid,

I'm not drinking the cool-aid.

Media tells you what they want you to know,
keeps you scared at night,
so you'll go where they want you to go,
so you buy what they want you to buy,
fills our young minds with propaganda and mis-info,
Wake up America,
you still have rights,
wake up America,
it's not about blacks or whites,
wake up America,
land of brotherhood,
don't trade your rights,
for fabled comfort,
from dark knights,
stand up as brother and sister,
stand up as Mrs. and Mr.
and together make your voice be heard,
before it's too late,
before its too late,
Is that a drone or is that bird?
shhh don't speak so loud,
you might be heard.

(c) dm 2015
(Lindsey Graham, recently noted when it comes to terrorists: “I’m not going to call a judge. I’m going to call a drone and **** you.”) This guy is running for office?

This to me is not how the America I grew up in should work. What happened to people having the right to a fair trial? This guy running for president is a joke. Anyone who thinks they are above the law, should not be above the people, because it means they will lord over you.
Becky Littmann Mar 2015
A true friendship is quite rare
As are the priceless memories you share
The ones only you two can make
They're a person you're 100% real
with, no need to be fake
& you'd be lost without them
They're a one of kind gem
No one could take their place
Instead you'd rather just leave it an empty space
You both share a bond so strong
Even when things go a little wrong
& of course they sometimes will
Life won't always be so chill
You won't always agree
Eye to eye won't be what you see
Which may start up a tiny fight
over who's wrong & who's right
Don't let it build up & build inside & stir
Communication is always going to be key
always do this
It's by far better than getting lost in silence
What you may notice
Might be blurry to them  & out of focus completely oblivious
Nonchlant hints, unfortunately, they miss
Whenever you've wandered away from yourself & who you are
Your bestie won't let you wander too far
A true friendship is worth repair
Their life & wellness matter because you truly care
You'll go through hell & back together
Overcoming & living life side-by-side forever
No matter what obstacles you encounter
Making you both stronger & wiser after
A friendship that's always going to be worth it
Eachother you just get
You're one in the same
& glad they came
Before you disappeared for good
Leaving things misunderstood
BUT, since words were written read & spoken
...the silence was BROKEN
Olivia McCann Sep 2014
What if sound was robbed,
Held at gunpoint
And smuggled away
From me
Into a duffel of contraband.

What if songs became nothing?
What would I
Do? As the bus
Bounces up and down,
When the sun hasn't
Yet stolen it's kiss.
The window yields
Bland scene
And I would recognize
The silence
In the detestful
Way I do
When I forget the wires.

What if his voice
Was gone?
Could I remember it?
Could I fill in sound as his
Lips moved,
All I'd ever see
Would be lips.
And I don't like mouths as it is.
But maybe
They'd be my new wires
And my eyes would follow
Their parted
Movements, enamored.

What if instructions were silenced
And I was left to guess at
What to do?
Emergency situation
Stealing my life away
Because I couldn't hear
Anything about
The oxygen supply
Above my head.

I'd perish in silence.

Would I speak?
Or only write?
Would I feel heard
If I could barely fathom listening?

— The End —