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Victoria Johnson Jul 2014
How could you do this to me?
Time and time again,
I trust you once more,
And I fall for your lies.

You spread your rumors once,
To try and "get me right"
But I did not listen to you,
And kept him in my sights.

You spread your rumors twice,
No more playing nice,
You took your shot at me,
But he's still by my side.

You want what you can't have,
and I have what you don't,
You have thrown your grenades,
But within is just but smoke.

You think scaring me will work,
And you can try if you're so sure,
But I have what you cannot,
And now you're oh-so sore.

You want it for one reason,
And that reason is it's mine,
But I'm okay,
Go on your way,
Without you I feel fine.

Because I have something you don't,
And I'm not trying to get a rise,
Out of you,
Because you have something too,
And that's a toxic mouth of lies.
Ok, so the story behind this is that I made a friend at camp, a guy (I think I'll call him Jimmy here) who was a counselor, and went to the same church as one of the girls (I'll call her Mimi)  in my group of friends. I became close to Jimmy, because he learned my story, and I his, and they were so similar in a way that made us want to stay close to each other. We became accountable to one another, and so I stuck close to him physically and emotionally. Mimi pulled me aside one day, with a couple of my other friends, and they cornered me, and told me that they were going to stage an intervention, to "get me right" and keep me away from Jimmy, because he was a bad person. Had they listened to me, they would've known that everything they told me that he had done, were things I myself had done, that I knew he had done, and I knew we were both ashamed of doing. I didn't listen to them when they started spreading the rumors about his past around the camp, and we remained close throughout the weeks after camp ended. 3 weeks later, camp for the younger kids started, and my "friend" Mimi was a counselor. Now I wasn't a counselor this week, but I had a young dear friend (I'll call her Alison) who was like a baby sister to me, who was in Mimi's cabin as a camper. Now Alison was a shy girl, so she attaches to only a few people who she'll trust with her life. I told her to trust her counselors, Mimi, and another one of my friends who staged the intervention 3 weeks before. Now Mimi had no clue just how close Alison was to me, and did not watch what she said. She started telling all of the girls in her cabin that she liked a guy named Jimmy, and pointed him out to them. She told them that there were nasty rumors spread about him (not mentioning that she had spread the rumors) and that she didn't believe a word of them. She also told the girls that I had spent all of camp holding hands, and sneaking off with Jimmy, but none of it was Jimmy's fault, I had forced himself to, and pushed myself at him out of desperation. At this point my very shy friend Alison defended me, and while picking her up from camp, she let me know what had been going on. I have not, and will not confront this friend, I wrote this poem to try and let it go, although it still stings.
Margrett Gold Jul 2014
An orange sun cools,
drifts beneath the lake
as we sway together
an evening song of friendship.

shhh, we whisper in an attempt to create
a reasonable hush.

giggles on dark stones lead us home
milk and cookies lull us to sleep.
Being a camp counselor had its perks
Winter Silk Jul 2014
The fire slowly died out in the cool, gentle ocean breeze.
It was a time that was deep into the night, the light bulbs have long been inactive, the tents stood like shaking, young trees in the wind, and the people inside them were happily locked into a deep sleep.
I shifted slightly in my sleeping bag, casting my gaze towards the heavens as I basked in illuminating starlight.
The moon had hidden itself that night, allowing me to see the sky in its true colors. I let out a breath formed of great contentment and pure amazement as I marveled at the splashes of red mixed with faint greens that were highlights of the blue and black canvas above me.
I smiled as a temporarily remembered my conviction for sleeping outside of a tent that night, because as I lay down in that pristine, sandy beach, I felt every care and trouble spill from my heart and into the sand, falling through the grains and going farther and farther away from me.
At that moment, I was nothing more than a wandering sailor on a sleeping bag galleon, exploring an ocean of stars in a realm of peaceful loneliness, where only the astral bodies lit my way.
Still, something was weighing me down.
Even when I was so far away, and so alone, I felt you beside me.
Even when I was king of the stars,
I was still a peasant without the queen of space.
Found this in one of my old journals.
I took the time and liberation to type it down, because the words and descriptions seemed pretty enough to be here.
Also, she was the "queen of space" because she always seemed so far from me and so close to me at the same time. Yes, she defies space on a regular basis.
TL;DR You can be alone, lost in your own world, but love will always find you.
Terry Collett May 2014
The sun was strong
and Miriam and I
lay in the sun
at the base camp

side by side
she in her red bikini
and I in tee-shirt
and jeans

(not wanting
to get too sunburnt)
who is that hag
who complains

all the time?
she asked
no idea
I said

not much on names
only faces
even the ex army guy
who sleeps

in my tent
(one has to share
a tent
with the same ***

unfortunately)
I keep forgetting
his name
she looked skyward

in her sunglasses
(large things
like insect eyes)
I like Madrid

she said
I could live here
if I didn't have
a job back home

yes
we could set up here  
I said
get jobs

get a place together
bed together
visit the museums
and art galleries

together
sit in bars together
she added
do you speak

any Spanish?
I said
no
she said

apart from my
schoolgirl attempts
which get me
no where

have to make
our way here
without it
I said

as long
as we can
get a beer
and bread

and bed
she laughed
and put out
a hand to touch

mine
thin fingers
small hand
I gazed at the trees

above my head
touching the sky
birds in flight
thinking of her

and the love
made last night.
BOY AND GIRL IN MADRID IN 1970.

— The End —