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Helseivich May 2014
"Follow the leader," they said.
Look where that got me.
If only I could have lead them.
it's ok May 2014
The stars were once so friendly,
dancing with the moon to radiate on each
satellite, plant, galaxy solar system
The stars were once so bright,
But that was before they saw a bitter life form
And they dimmed a little
They met the city lights, and saw they were
least important with such beauty,
A planet with stars of it's own,
which lead the stars to dim enough
But then the far away suns noticed
Hatred, and the beloved planets
not being taken care of,
water sources being drained,
Fake satellites being place all over,
The forbidden moon having
Earth's stolen elements stabbed into
Planets hid, and now
All the stars are all a dot to twinkle
Still holding onto that last piece of illumination
and lately, the moon seemed a little dimmer
How many times
How will you write
About a glorious light
It's mighty bright
When will you realize
it's worse off than you
                                        Let me be when I stargaze
            The sky will look back at me and reminiscence
Patrick Conroy Jul 2013
Today I woke up angry
And by the time I feel better it'll be too late to save me
While the voice on the TV sang the
******* reasons why they think I did it.

I got my snap back turned back
Ready to make a head snap back
When I let my rifle crack
Everyone will know I did it.

They will say I am mentally ill
When they were the ones who gave me the **** pill
Wrote depression as the cause on the itemized bill
Then send my *** out for another refill.

They turned the neighborhood into a war zone
When the cops came to my home
I would have come freely had they phoned
Instead they had guns drawn, ready to unload.

Hook me up to a gurney
Stick me with a poison needle to send me on my final journey
While a group of people look upon me
Never once believing my story.

The truth is, the bullet was meant for my own head
But I got scared and pointed it at the window instead
I shot a three year old girl as she slept in her bed
When it was my own life I wanted to end.

Today I woke up angry
Today is the day they are going to hang me
The death knell sings all around me
Life's final reminder of the ******* reasons I gave not to live it.
Cynthia May 2014
My one on one time begins as soon as I pick up this pencil
Writing to release these contemplations
The lead takes me to a process of distillation
Being careful not to run out from this eraser
Our everyday mistakes can be related to an eraser
Once you run out from your eraser you cannot wipe away any errors
So you carefully choose and think wisely
Being mindful of the insufficiency and blackness of the eraser
No matter how many times you erase
there will always be a trail of black spots left behind
Live life as if you were running out from your own eraser
That way you pursue perfection and not mistakes
Don't be the eraser that runs out quicker than the lead

Copyright© Cynthia Ulloa
All rights reserved.
Malachi Filius Apr 2014
The warm, heavy breath that surrounds every inch of my body
Soaking my skin in a tight, hard shell
I can hardly keep my head above the waters
Taking my last breath
I sink
A cocoon
Wrapped within my heavy leaden thoughts and feelings
Numbing
Slowly
Everything
I'm consumed by no-thing
Slowly rising to my chest
Consuming as it ascends
Devouring what I considered me
Soon I can't remember what I even means
Slowly slowly slowly
Down down down
I go
Is there a bottom?
Is there a light?
All I can see and feel
Is a grey
Hard
Shell
That has no boundaries
No limit
As I sink perpetually
In the leaden waters
Taking me down
To god knows where
Timothy Brown Apr 2014
She wanders with a ponderance
of an unfulfilling existence .
It's like she missed the instance
when life was handing out
purpose. She became subverted
by her own thoughts.
Self-image contorted
like spaghetti noodles or dreadlocks.
The simplicity of existing has become brutal.
She keeps the gold within
vaulted like Fort Knox.
That protection is like an island
preventing her journey's beginning.
A short introduction to Sweet Memory  You can find other parts of the story in my poems entitled Sweet Memory left with Bad Taste. ©April 7th, 2014 by Timothy Brown. All rights reserved.  P.S Thanks Letty for the inspiration

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