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Jeff S 3d
skirting the rusty rose of a brooch
dangling on canvas bodice as she leans
tightly over me; the waves of wrinkles
on her be-bangled red hands pointing to the
wrong punctuation; this is dream-building
in the fifth grade; don't end the dream
too soon, she gruffs sing-song like
a prize-winning racoon; and still applauds
the bricklaying we so clumsily feign
for our castles in the sky; tho she, too,
dies of cancer in the last year; the tubes at the
very last weaving through the canvas;
something of a final stitch to the making
of a dream; and so i think all dreams in me
they die in darkness and still i wonder
what happens to the crenellated castle
walls i abandoned scores of years and
many As ago; and still we pat our doeeyes
on their infinitile heads and **** our
cynical shacks-by-the-forest-fires back
into our heads, begging beneath the
damp light of early-onset reverie: save
us, won't you, from the stiff stillborn of
dreams our generation lost to the fantasy
of getting what the saddest, dreamless
dollared dupes decree; oh be better yet for me,
my naive sums, and take your brick-laying;
your canvas sheen; your impossible, doubtless
dreams with broach and gnarl; with gruff and
soundless trill; your soulful self metastasized  
with every beat
to the happy grave.
Almost everybody wants to be here;
I don't know if it's
the drugs or the choice in music,
but it's hard not to feel calm with your
big-voice-gotta-laugh-thing going on,
or someone else talking a mile a minute about
the best ways to **** time in the suburbs.
At least one night this week, it kind of feels like we've got it going for us.
Anya Dec 10
Children are...
rather innocent creatures
Or at least,
in my protected, childhood of fairy tales
Princesses and superheroes and talking frogs
My third grade diary when asked to name something precious
Unlike toys unbreaking
Keeps you happy and safe
precocious I was at that
but still too much

As I still am,
of course
See, the thing about adolescence
Hormones raging, from crushes to bullying to acting out
The time when we
We're out of the                     Naive
                  Quite dangerous, really
Since, we're really Not

A whole butload of
                               stuff I'll probably
Be subject to and
May have been earlier if not for
My reclusive tenancies
and lazy ways
and protected life

I say it,
In a careless manner
Trying to look cool, even in poetry
But, like, it's going to happen
I'm going to come face
to face
Have to make
a choice
And it's nothing to be intimidated about
I tell myself
Truly a question
to consider,

I'm assuming,
one day I'll mature
And when that day comes...

Will I still be the little girl
With the two bouncing pigtails
Scrunched up face
Pencil too tight grip
Oval eyes, smiley lips, long hair
My nth drawing of a girl?

Mind uncluttered
with what could be
         what should be
         what would be
Only, what is
And what I want

But as the clock strikes twelve another day has gone by
and it's well past time for me to go to bed
Another year, past
More time gone by
More memories to reminisce about
Also more to look forward to
Danny Dec 1
Throughout my whole life I was taught not to feel
Discouraging put downs had first spun this wheel
Later the numbness extended to violence
Inequity towards me was stuffed until silenced
This armor had left me with no wounds to heal

This type of existence proved no way to live
My walls were torn down by my wife and my kids
Sensing such weakness and seeking to profit
She sunk the knife deep into me and she lost it
With shoves from my daughter to anguish I slid.

A child gets the access to do the most damage
Her taking advantage of weakness was savage
The lies and deceiving had gone on for years
Once I could see that it brought me to tears
This wound that she made will take so long to bandage
Aster Rowen Nov 25
Like an ocean
Our love reaches depths
Depths farther any mankind could go
We act as if we are kids
Riding on a Ferris wheel round and round
Or skidding in the snow
Packing crystals into spheres
Hitting the fabrics of each other
Its endless in our depths
Drawing pictures in the sand
Taking the dive into these waters
Wondering what it will be like years later
Deep in the depths
Of our ocean
Shea Nov 24
One year ago exactly,
In the moment I relapsed faster
Than how fast I was running from myself.

It had been about a year too
Before I closed the door on
Hoping to have grown.

I was sent away
And blamed for that.
They said "You said the right things
And did this on purpose"
Well I can't say I did that,
But I can say I finally opened up
And asked for help
And this is what I got for that.

Now everytime I smell
The smell of tide detergent
And see that color green
On the meridian scrubs
I flinch and stop breathing.

I wish I never opened up,
I wish I never asked for help
Cause now the shackles on my brain are getting heavier in that section.

But it showed me a new perspective,
Didn't get the help I was wishing for
But I grew older, wiser, and nicer.
Now I'm a fighter for the kids like me
So I guess I have grown a little.
I feel that humanity has changed a lot.
That the pleasure of sugar is no longer sweet.
I feel that the freedom to imagine the imaginable has been lost.
I feel that the blood in our veins is no longer hot.
What if I scream?
Will someone help me?
The freedom that the human being has to make choices is no longer a priority.
After all, what is the meaning of life?
Why are we born if we die?
Why do we kiss if we suffer?
With each leap with each smile, a world dies.
Someone falls apart, someone is born, somebody needs reach.
I woke up in the morning, combed my hair, looked at me in the mirror without any desire.
I sat under the tree to smell the summer.
As the children asked me about love and its definition
What about love?
Love is now the song we skipped on the playlist.
Love is the main sentiment of every dreamer.
Neither the greatest thinkers in history nor logic can find concrete definitions for feelings.
No one lives without love, so there is hatred.
In each cup we drink the poison of ingratitude.
The flowers are no longer immense.
These all words, figures of style and pleonasm ...
It was just to define how our life can be a great illusion
Dani Nov 22
A skippity hop and muddy socks
Sail boats and rain coats
Semis and dump trucks
Bubble baths with ducks
Throwing a ball I love it all!!
***** feet and a sweet treat
Firefighters and quad riders
Lights and sirens and jolly lions
Puppy heroes and horses with wings
These are a few of my favorite things
Written for my almost 3 year old daughter. Her favorite things! She has a firetruck and says "I am a firewoman!" Paw Patrol and My Little pony are the last few references there. She is my whole world!
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