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josh wilbanks Sep 2016
There was a man with massive plans - he was going to change the world. He laid it all out, started his route, then remember he never began. His great great grandfather was shot and became martyr to the racism that's still alive.

I watched a show with a ninja who killed for gold and i didn't care. I watched a show where a movie theater was shot and i got real scared. But just like the ninja i didn't believe - that could never happen to me.

I whent to walmart to pick up some milk and saw a man with a gun to a head. They gave him the cash and whatever he wanted in hopes to not end up dead. I've lived in this town for nearly 18 years - born, raised, and lived.

This is Belmont, the town i grew up.
I could be on cnn.
I'm 15 minutes away from charlotte. The riots hit my home town yesterday.
Brother Jimmy Jun 2016
Sitting there
With your artistic  eye
Taking everything in until

Your steady hand
Such expertise
Creates in us a thrill

Your ebullient knack
For storytelling
And lack of inhibition

So inviting
And so loving
Of every human's condition

Your tender heart
Sets you apart
I think of you and I sigh

Charlotte my dear
Don't you fear,
I'll protect you 'til I die
For my lovely daughter, Charlotte
Hanna Kelley Apr 2016
She's turning 84 soon.
I don't remember exactly the last time I saw her but I think it was at the funeral.
Death weighs heavy on hearts that love,
And she had become weak.
You could see it.
See it in her eyes when she cried.
You could see it in her hands.
Oh her hands.
As weird as it may be, her hands were the first thing that I remember about her.
She wore bands around every finger, like the rings of a tree truck when love has aged into something less adoring.
Yes she was a widow but she was the Queen.
Being too young for school, my sister and I went to her house every week.
And like clockwork she repeated every move she had done the day before and the one before that.
I remember how much she loved to knit and crochet.
I told her that I wanted to learn and she told me "good for you. You'll see it is very relaxing. Doing the same things, you don't really think about what you're doing anymore"
I crochet whenever I have the time and I now know what she meant.
Most times then not, I seem to day dream; thinking, about anything.
I remember her collection of books and newspapers, the bibles that she kept by her chair.
Of course they weren't of my interest but because they were to her, she would always be reading this one book.
Even when she fell asleep, she could not put the book down.
She had told me that she read it 4 times and she planed to do it again.
It was called "Julie of the Wolves"
I bought this book a few years ago and I still can't find it interesting.
It sits on my shelf, untouched, but unforgotten.
She is a babysitter, and a mother as well as a grandmother.
Family and friends were always over at her house, company was always welcome.
She had many kids, and her kids had many grandkids.
Her friends that came over so often had kids that had kids and it took me a while to realize it but,
She was old.
She is old.
She is a family tree that has grown bigger than most because of the love she spreads.
She tought me things without even realizing it.
I learned how too make the perfect peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
There wasn't too much of either and she always cut the sand which in half to help my sister and I know the good of sharing.
Almost like herself,
She wasn't too strick or too nurturing, she treated everyone equally and did nothing but that.
Its been 8 years.
Her daughter passed away, I'm still not exactly sure how or why.
It was the only funural I was ever invited to, and I cried.
I cried when I saw how hurt she was, how hurt everyone was.
I didn't understand death until that day.
I looked at Tanya's body and I realized why she was hiden under a sheet.
Its been 8 yeas since I have seen her.
I follow her on Facebook, the only way I can keep an update on her.
Death weighs heavy on hearts that love, and she has become weak.
She is fragile and old, I know this.
Its because I was just invited to her 84th surprise birthday party that I was bombarded with memories of her.
This woman has changed my life, not just by being her, for giving birth to amazing people, for introducing me the people that I know as friends today.
Her name is Charlotte, she likes to repeat things over and over again.
Sooner or later you don't even start to think about it anymore.
You just day dream, and think,
about anything.
This woman was a huge part of my life and I can't wait to see her again.

Thank you to the people who took the time to read this, I know it's long and I know it might not be interesting so thank you.
Nora Feb 2016
How distasteful you are,
With your sundry splotches
and jarring imperfections.
Oh, you taunt me so!
Whether your anathemas
are reflected through the mirror or my own eyes.
Oh horrible, hateful, heinous thing!
I cannot bear to stare any longer.
How sickly your color is--
A pallid yellow, like one giant bruise
That has budded and blossomed
In some unnaturally grotesque fashion.
My blood boils, my pulse races
And I raise my weapons to fight--
Two talons--claws honed to perfection.
Be gone, you wretched scab!
And so I tear, scratching furiously,
Until no more of you is left.
The blood is stuck beneath my fingertips,
Or what is left of them.
My sinews tremble, ****** and bare,
As the last of my wallpaper
Is ripped from my bones.
A small tribute to Charlotte Perkins Gilman. Concept is mine, story and inspiration are not.
Liam C Calhoun Jan 2016
Spite contorted smiles
And lips
Drenched in green
Sought the satins that never
Satisfy – Sheets, fallen,
Wings, blistered,
And holes burnt through the
Bottoms of shoes.

So I pace myself parallel
The corner of one left
Eye, peripheral and
Gazing to the
Two-step-stumble
I now partake;
An answer to
Her dance with
Impending desire.

Me, being the reluctant,
Me, being the timid, the torrent
And soon to blow over.

I know I’ll leave,
She didn’t,
And more importantly,
I know she’d find home,
Discovered, empty
With little more than
Lint in pocket, abandoned,
Just one lonely shiver
And looking for warm.

So if my cold hadn’t taken over
Not quite yet,
I’d give her a
Blanket,
It’s the best I can do,
It’s all I can do,
But at least it’s
Something I can do.
I remember her name, it was "Charlotte," not quite fitting for a web that failed. Published as "Charlotte" in "Down in the Dirt" magazine.
Tomlinsonsgun Oct 2015
No matter how hard
No matter how long
I'm never enough
I'm not strong

I try to be perfect
The cutest girl can be
But I'm not even close
They all are better than me
skaldspiller Jul 2014
Of course
They planted birch trees on the green
Peeling paper bark trees
Shading the head
And stirring the heart
Saying even nature makes paper
So write enough to fill the sky

I could fill the sky with this summers pain
But I'm not sure that I want to
I'm getting awful sick of rain.

— The End —