I miss my friends
The squad goals that never end
Four personalities well meshed
Inspiring artistic trends
And devouring all life has

The white is black
Salinas is back
To life inside this sack
Of flesh and bones fully intact
A beautiful heart where nothing lacks

Colombia is crazy
Pops niggas and makes them hazy
Disrespect her she'll beat you endlessly
But her heart of gold so full of love
Her home a place of rest for me

Gerlt! the artist
Intellectual and passionate
The alien prodigy
Ambitious creator
Bringing art to reality

Jon the weirdo
Forrest sex freako
Fifty shades of foolishness
Open minded to all people
No empathy for you though

Squad Kronicles
Taking on new challenges
Unmasking new ideas
Reaching new levels
Aliens amongst normal peoples

JM 4/29/17

I miss my friends and wanted to write a little something about them
Piper Deese Apr 21

I am creative and boring
I wonder about my family’s past
I hear dead people
I see spring around the corner
I want my dad back
I am creative and boring

I pretend to not care
I feel the sadness of others
I touch the sun
I worry about what the end is like
I cry about life
I am creative and boring

I understand almost nothing
I say that Christ is real
I dream about what life could be like if he were here
I try to do my best
I hope everything will work out
I am creative and boring

I'll wait for you right here
So when you come near
I'll be ready to hear what you have to say

Okay, I'm ready now
Go 'head, do your bow
Get on with what you have to say

I'm listening intently
Just speak earnestly
So I can finally hear what you have to say

Well, go on, speak up, friend!
Are you afraid of becoming a trend?
Do you not want me to hear what you have to say?

Well, that's not fair to me
Do you not live to serve me?
Just speak, now, I’m dying to hear what you have to say

What is this? Are you crying?
Will you just sit there, denying
That your duty is to tell me what you have to say?

Well, it is your job to do just that
Stop being so modest and flat
Speak up! I can't hear what you have to say!

You're good and true
I know this about you
I just want to know what you have to say

It sounds like I'm bargaining
When I should just be demanding
You to (sometime soon) tell me what you have to say

I've sat down without your insight
Trying to think of a song I could write
But I couldn't hear what you had to say

Where were you in those times?
Why'd I make those shitty rhymes?
You know why? 'Cause I couldn't hear what you had to say

Creativity, stop being shy, and come
Give me something with which I can run
Just give me anything! I'm starved for what you have to say

Don't you recognize your lack of choice?
I speak for you, you have no voice
But I need to hear you first, to hear what you have to say

Go ahead, I’m waiting
Stop your ceaseless debating

kind of abstract but i imagine still easy to understand. this is about the way you feel after creating something and misunderstanding the fact that you need to wait and listen before you create another thing. make note of the fact that I use the word "hear" a lot. this represents the bastardization of what I should actually be doing: listening (not just hearing what creativity has to say)

I remember picking them out, the lights, the way they flickered with such delight. Before I heard the vibration of my phone in the moral night when brilliance distills into darkness and you're clinging on to any tightly knit wisdom of the world. In the wee hours, I studied those lights and I knew what I could do with them. I was being flushed down the drain. I drank a cup of coffee and then another until I couldn't feel anymore, and I was gazing at the lights flickering again and they once sparkled so bright and maybe the lights were never supposed to work. Just then, a strange sound appeared. It was high-pitched laughter. And I didn't know I could pick back up and steer again. And then weeks later, you stumble across a gift and it brings back some life. "It's your birthday soon," they keep telling you. Change is a trickster. It baffles you. And you laugh. And you hear a string quartet. I was dragged down a courthouse stairway. I was left in a pasture under a deafening silence of a sun. But at four thirty or so, I did drift off to sleep. And just before the sun rose, I heard them gathering against me. And that's a moment you don't want etched in stone. But then it's another tangible presence that emerges. And there you find yourself back where you once were and dreaming of the next week.

The short windows behind me are open, veined with Indiana warm. I’m standing inside a small home. There, in a swirl of questions is laughter and it erupts like an avalanche descending at high speed down a mountainside and I’m bursting with happiness. My coat folded over a back chair. I’ve started drinking coffee. First time in 42 years. But now I am drinking something sweet. My brain hurts less. Can’t find one of my socks. My mouth tastes like death. I can see the dark outlines of eyelids. A gust front is a region of warm air that lies immediately ahead of an advancing storm. I no longer prepare for the storm, but I do look for warmth. When dark eyes descend onto a body and differences collide it can create harmony. The day before, conversation buzzed around me like a cloud of shiny flies. Every now and then one lands on my nose, and I look up from my plate to find everyone looking at me. But not here. Not in this room. Those initial words of a yard sale would shatter barriers and create a predetermined constructed scenario.

Lottie White Apr 12

Since I was a young child,
filled with nighttime fears
of monsters under beds
and creatures hiding in closets,
I avoid

Lottie White Apr 12

sometimes what I feel for you
a rhythm in my
b o n e s.
sometimes it breaks my heart
thousands of tiny
p i e c e s.

The airline seemed to expect a lot from me when the pilot announced we’d be returning to the city we originated from because the airplane’s deicing button stopped functioning. I felt bony, awkward and weak, even though I am solidly built. I wanted to tell the pilot I thought my life was funny; that I tripped in the street, that the orange light on the nose of a new moose pen stopped working almost immediately. Once we returned to the airport, I fed my son, and contemplated hanging myself from the light fixture. It’s true by the time I heard the announcement that some poor fellow had left his small black knapsack on the flight – I laughed out loud. What is a knapsack anyway? A knit bag, a cloth sack. When I learned it was my large black backpack – I wasn’t laughing anymore. Once we boarded a new aircraft, I asked for a hefty glass of wine. I noticed my pour was less than the man seated next to me. I had to think: things could not get any worse. When I finished that glass, I asked for another. At this time, the flight attendant never returned.

Be smart about it think what you really good at and make something out of it ... a lot of people what to see you fail in life ..show them that u can make nothing out of something be creative with these haters because haters will always be found  hating on me or hating on you ...

Rebecca Lynn Mar 19

His eyes shined
like stars in the midnight sky,
he is perfect.
This love is perfect.

The way he talks with his hands,
the way he walks when he stands,
the way he smiles at me,
he's so perfect to me.

The way we can talk for hours,
the way we kiss in the rain showers,
the midnight drives back to my house,
oh how I love him,
everything in life is so perfect to me
he is perfect.

this came to the top of my head. I will go back and edit this when I need to; but for know, I will leave this as it is.
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