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Hannah Anderson May 2014
I wrote a poem for my biography to a special person about Adam, I thought you would like to read it.

Blue Heart

You were 18, so many years in front of you.
It felt like a dark eternity, you didn’t want to go.
I saw it in your sunken eyes.
The vacant stare and sad dark eyes.
I saw when you were sitting around the table prom night.
So much going around but you were too calm
too collected.
too inside your mind for us.
I knew that blank expression from experience
All too well.
You screamed for help
silent and loud
I reached for your hand
but you
f
e
  l
   l



You were poised and calm
Broken but full of love.
All I wanted to do was help you.
you were standing still when the world went on
and it did go on, it did, without you.

When you were standing there at the edge
I wondered about you, all in my head.
We were short lived, a friendship that was fast.
You came, changed me, then you left.
it came and went in a flash.

I knew when no one else could guess.
you put it all on me, didn’t you.
but I was not cross with you.
Heartbroken, yes
scared, yes
alone, yes
mad, no


Your color was blue
Blue heart, blue veins
Blue is the color of our planet
from far far away
we wore it proud it was all for you,
a blue solemn silence.
and the world spun fast and
all the people hurried fast, real fast
and no one ever smiled.

You weren’t all there, in that head of yours.
dark and empty
you were sad but you lived like you would die
tomorrow
tomorrow came too soon and it was up to you.
it was always up to you.

Meeting you was bitter
you put me through stress, anxiety and heartache
you put me through shame and shock
All I wanted was you by my side,
and you there was not.

Meeting you was sweet
you gave me smiles and laughs,
good music and thoughts
you gave me a feeling of friendship and care.
All I wanted was you by my side,
but you were not there.

You were poised and calm,
you rubbed off on me.
I was hyped and excited
you called me “ADHD”


You drove an old red beater with water bottles everywhere,
with **** in the glove compartment.
but you didn’t care.
Your drove with sunglasses and the FM radio loud.
You drove in silence, thinking no doubt.


You loved the sun but you would hike for the shade
when we were together you took me away.
I didn’t think, I didn’t have nerves.
We talked about the world
We talked about life
You had a life you thought you didn’t deserve.

Whoever planted that seed
had some **** nerve
you wrote like me but I wrote for myself
you wrote for us when there’d be nothing else.

I knew when no one else could guess.
you put it all on me, didn’t you.
but I was not mad.
Heartbroken, yes
scared, yes
alone, yes
mad, no


When you were gone
I read
and
I read
i wanted to know exactly when
you felt what you felt.
You called me your jav friend
you called me your angel

You are up there watching over me
I yelled and screamed
I couldn’t breathe.

I shut them out,
I cursed at you.
I hated you
I cried for you


I only see you in my head
Dreaming once and a while of your smile,
of your eyes
but they are never dark
they are never sad
they are never empty
The vacant stare is not there.
your hair is a giant mess
and I freeze that moment right there.


You said you were alone
you said it was a secret
you asked me about my darkest
and you told me all your secrets
I have never been in that much peace knowing I kept you there
It felt like moments when it was hours and you were gone too **** soon.
tomorrow came too fast and it was up to you.
it was always up to you.

Now I wear a band on my wrist
and pray for your peace
that is all I have left,
but you mean so much to me.
I hope you are happy,
I hope your journey has ended
and you found what you wanted
My heart was once broken
but soon if all this is true
it will be mended.
This is about my friend who committed suicide on 5/19/13 the anniversary just passed and I wrote this for english.
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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
lupush May 2014
Your name has meaning not to me
for I want the bat and not some trick
you use to hide your nightly guise,
the one I’ve come to
idolize

There’s many reasons you and I
have chased the cats and not the mice:
the rats have trouble keeping up,
the cats will scratch you but with
love

I don’t seek the face behind the mask
for I want layers upon layers—
upon dusk
to hide a face that might prove
you’re just a man and I’m a
fool
After some heavy DCnU reading, and my eternal fascination for the Joker, I’ve come to have much Batman-related inspiration. This time in particular, about Joker’s adoration with Batman and the fact he never cared about his real identity because, for him, Batman isn't a man with a mask but darkness itself. I strongly believe that Joker's head can't handle the fact Batman could be anyone but... well, Batman.
Daylight 4U2C May 2014
The iron drips from my fingers.
The man gives out a yell.
The child launches, she launches at me.
Sadly her launch had failed.
I chuckled at her, with no pity.
Her frightened face, what a laugh.
The person she’s crying for isn't worth dying for.
After all,
he was a bad man.
It’s funny, so funny, funny the fact.
The fact, she thought if she grabbed my neck then,
maybe, just maybe, maybe I’d die.
I laughed again and finally, I gave out a sigh.
“Poor child,” I said my voice left unchanged.
“You misunderstood. I shouldn't be ashamed.
Your idol has done so many bad things,
now he’ll pay for his sins of adultery,
in a place which this blind man cannot see.
She fell to the ground befalling her tears.
This was the end of her happy years.
What? Did she think it was a fairy tale life?
Reality is sharp, just like a knife.
I laughed at the fact I took his life,
with just one swing of my most dull scythe.
Daylight 4U2C May 2014
People diein' on the streets.
****** puddles at our feets.

But we could be a family.
We could be a whole.
We could be together.
But no one could be cold.

If we could live on an island,
no hate,
no guns,
no war.
We'd look back and wonder,
what was it all for?

People diein' on the streets.
****** puddles at our feets.

Gangs,
tempts,
nudes,
exempts.

We sit at desk,
eating or eaten.
we laughed at or laughing.
beating or bleedin'.

We know the truth, but call it cruel.
The cruel one is we, the blind fool.

People diein' on the streets
****** puddles at our feets.

Who shot the most guns?
Who then killed them all?
Who didn't mind a casualty?
Who could be responsible?

"Not me!" we cry,
"I'm a good soul."
But even if we declined,
can I be told where they go?
No one WANTS to die. For someone to do it, there will be an opponent. A THREAT.    That's what this poem is about.
sneha mundari Apr 2012
Many things to say,
Many to pray…
But some forces are there
That stops me whenever I dare…

Many things I feel,
But could’nt able to reveal,
Coz… some forces are there
that stops me whenever I dare…

That’s why am not able to express
And I therefore suppress
Due to which I remain depress
**** am so helpless!!!

There’s so many things to say,to ask,to answer,
But why this **** brain dunno able to transfer
Coz… some forces are there
That stops me whenever I dare…

Al I wish is you to understand
The circumstance
Coz… some forces are there
That stops me whenever I dare…

I have no words to express how much
I need you, love you , all these remains as such,
Coz… some forces are there
That stops me whenever I dare…

There’s nothing as happy love I know
But one thing you dunno,
M not waiting to catch you
But always there to watch you…
© 2012 by Sneha Mundari. All rights reserved.
Martin Narrod Apr 2014
I trace my finger around. With red lipstick on I wear the skin of the pets I had, looking like a marigold shot through the head, my bare skin is barbed in the back. Such trouble and quiet with the wrap-around, the cross-walk, and floral shop as I browse. The white elephant in the upstairs bedroom, is making it hard for every one of us to sleep. With this Africa becomes a disease, that I unwrap from a cotton white sheet. When I breathe life is going good, under the spells of wicked and word. I like to call out in the night, so with no response I can plead for the courage to think; all the suburban philistines try to help me, but I can't tell a joke because I cannot read. Every thing amounts to being fat. Or liquidated in the most pathetic singles party for Karl Lagerfeld.

Numb fingers slur the words as I type telephone numbers that end in threes. I see a notice to be called upon, but it's hard to remember what day it is when your job only pays you in financial advice, "Don't do as I do, but please just do what I say." And I can smell that. The approach that a hunter brews in his midnight solemn cup of tea. Where a voice chimes in while a mouse runs out, dragging the corners of my eyes in a lagging meme, it doesn't do well to even be yourself sometimes, once while traveling I couldn't see. Come that morning I had left my hotel pass inside my favorite pants, black denim toting paint from a ******* shot, a picture that explains my disease.

The fifty inch fan hums an anonymous tune that when I turn quickly towards it becomes this feral baboon. And is it hardly based on fact or is it the illusions and the myths that Christopher Robins struck inside of me. With his griseous hands made of soot and of gouache, that worshipped animals that wear clothes outside. And even sometimes there are z's that transform into other creatures that hum real fast and talk out loud in nursery rhymes, a Whatsit and a Woozel are totally, too much for me. I turn the fan off and lay back down, and fight the world off with hands from another guy, much braver than I who doesn't even have tattoos but he's the top wordsmith from Buckingham. What a beautiful treat and such a magnificent surprise that the elephant lays down to die. Of course that's when my mouth dries up with smoke and my voice turns into the vanilla flavoring that everyone hates, and then too I felt like laying down to die. But I'm not 97 like I had thought I'm quite sure that I'm still alive. The white moon shines into my bedroom window at night and I pretend that I direct for the sky.
Matthew Mar 2014
Carpet to the wall
***** colors dancing shapes
Gosh my back is sore.

— The End —