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Litzytczt Oct 7
is it crazy?
to think
that if you fall in love with me
it would totally be too early
but we could totally still last forever
Maddie M Sep 29
The asylum inside my head
It’s a divided prison.
Where I fought back every thought, every feeling back into their place.
Lovely Sep 28
I hate your friends,
I hate your mom and dad,
I hope they hate me back.
I guess for once,
I'm being honest.
Gotta be a lot that's wrong with you,
To wanna be with me.
It's kind of sweet when we fight until someone's calling the cops,
But you never blame it on me,
You're so annoying.
Four in the morning,
You're changing the locks
How could you do this to me?
I only love you when you don't love me.
So, why do you love me?
I only need you when you don't need me.
So, why do you need me?
Apologize,
Never apologize.
You hate the way I lie,
So here you go,
I'm being honest.
Narcissist,
Come on,
Give us a kiss.
Let's have some fun with it,
It's kinda sweet.
I only love when you don't love me
So, why do you love me?
I only need you when you don't need me.
So, why do you need me?
If I'm so ******* crazy,
you're ******* crazy too.
We're all ******* crazy,
So *******.
Brad post Sep 28
“I don’t know what to do”,
she says quietly.
“I know it sounds paranoid,
but he’s following me.”

“I talked to his sister,
she said he’s out of state.
Supposedly in Ohio,
cause he needed a break.”

“But no one’s heard from him,
since I got the P.O.
He always said they were useless,
just false safety for show.”

“Well of course he isn’t,
he left this last night.
He has the only spare key,
and I know I locked up tight.”

“I’ve never seen that picture,
but I still have that dress.
He bought it for me,
and it’s the one he liked best.”

“But turn it over,
and look what he wrote.
It’s ******* filthy,
that part about *******.”

“I’m just really scared,
because I know he’s watching.
I constantly have the feeling,
someone’s following me.”

“Would you do me a favor,
and stay with me tonight?
I probably won’t sleep,
but if you’re there I might.”

“Thank you so much,
you are such a great friend.
Just having a man there,
makes a difference in the end.”

“I’ll see you tonight,
thank you so much again.
He always hated you,
even though we’re just friends.”
.
.
.
.
I watch out the window,
as she climbs in her car.
She doesn’t suspect it’s me,
at least not so far.

She didn’t ask why I was sweating,
or see the dirt under my nails.
Thank God she was upset,
and didn’t notice the smell.

I keep watching,
till she drives away,
touching myself,
as I play out the day.

She was right about one thing,
he’s still around,
but he won’t leave my basement,
once he’s in the ground.

Maybe I’ll get lucky,
and she’ll wear the dress.
He did have good taste,
cause it’s the one I liked best.
This is a piece I wrote for a “stalker” challenge.
listen to me closely            
I have a lot to say            
please do not talk              
for I am already so distraught    
please give these words some thought
I think that you're crazy                                                            ­      
you drive me insane                                                           ­                 
talking about how I leave you alone                                                          
t­o stand on your own                                                              ­        
do you forget you were the one to leave                                                            ­
you text me at night      
telling me you are not alright
do you forget that neither am I
you hang around the out crowd                                                            ­
but you still don't fit in                                                               ­   
the life that you live in
does not pique my interest
I want to live optimistic
you think you can outlive the oblivion
yet I still love you
you are my best friend
i hate that i cant leave you
Jonathan Moya Sep 23
Rapid City wears its patriotism like a shroud.
Corner streets are populated with less than
life-size statues of past presidents
squinting at the distant Black Hills
where the grandeur of Mt. Rushmore
casually crumbles their bronze dreams.

Wax settlers, loggers and gold miners
stake claims with souvenir hunters
touring a mine, panning for fool’s gold.

In nearby Custer, 75 breaths  from Wounded Knee,
shops hawk Chief Joseph, Sitting Bull, Geronimo t-shirts
proclaiming them “ The Original Founding Fathers.”
Mixed in are those in star-spangled letters and fireworks
proudly streaming “Welcome to America. Now Speak English.”

Rushmore was dynamited from a cliff
by a creator who spent the rest of his life
erecting grand Confederate gestures
out of ****** Georgia quartz monzonite—
finished and opened 100 years to the day
after Abraham Lincoln’s assassination.  

Thirty minutes from Rushmore, existing in its shadow
on private land filled with dusty trails,
unfinished after seventy years,
probably still unfinished after twenty  more,
facing away from these great stone faces,
emerging from the side of great Thunderhead Mountain,

on an ivory stead with a mane of flowing river and wind,
exists the Oglala Lakota warrior Tasunke Witko
the worm of Crazy Horse the Old and Rattling Blanket Woman,
sibling of Little Hawk and Laughing One, memory of the spirit of
Black Buffalo and White Cow who walked with an Iron Cane,
all enclosed with him in this massive breath of white stone.

The history of this great Indian space stretches the land,
four times higher than the Statue of Liberty,
extending beyond the warrior frown, the pointing left arm.
The horse’s ear alone is the size of a rusty  reservation bus.
When finished it will be the largest sculpture in history,
bigger than the land, breath and all of Indian memory.

It was the Vision Quest of Chief Henry Standing Bear to show the whites that the red man had great heroes, too.
In a man named Korczak he found a kindred spirit,
a storyteller in stone, a survivor of Omaha Beach,
who when the first wife faltered, found a second
who gave him enough children to carry, sculpt the Bear Dream.  

The big chief’s face is still the only finished part.
Korczak’s wife and children toil with the rest,
struggling to capture the essence of a warrior
who never allowed his shadow to be snared
in the false glow of the white man’s light,
trusting only the rain beams that fall

onto his people, mountains, plains and buffaloes,
onto Paha Sapa, “the heart of everything that is,”
where the Lakota huddled while the world was created,
now a land of broken treaties and dying dreams,
drenched in the dust of tears underneath,
while this white face torn from red gazes East.
Wounded Knee is not only the sight of an 1800’s Indian Massacre but the rumored burial spot of Sitting Bull.

The grand confederate gesture refers to Stone Mountain park, a Mt Rushmore etched with the faces of the Confederacy: Robert E. Lee,
Ken Pepiton Sep 20
When these are those days by gone
will we remember
when we were one?

will we sing sad songs of long bygones

or good ones of big ones that we ate, raw.
when
we couldn't start a fire,
then there was the rub, and you were here

will we remember when we were one
with a private beach and pearl-less oysters
in the desert under the milky way?

I'd say so,
knowin' what I know, here and there.
and exercise in non-duality imagined while vacuuming my hall.
What you're discovering now
I've lived that years ago.
Things you thought were impossible
I've seen it a long time coming.
All that was, called crazy,
Now everything's plain stupidity!
Surrounded by futile mind,
Have I become one of them?
Or am I still crazy?
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