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Arpita Banerjee Apr 2018
Breathe in the rustling leaves
Hide behind the unwanted plants that arise
From the creaks in the concrete.
Perhaps they have discovered a source of life
Far sublime than the one you dwell in.
The wind, the wind,
The wind blows opposite
To where the bird wants to go.
The wind, the wind,
The happy eucalyptus oscillating in unison
Bidding adieu to the birds in flight.
The wind, the wind,
Making fishes out of thoughts,
Myriad corals and hydrae out of trees.

The water tank
Formidable in its all absorbing blackness,
Contains the most lucid, transparent and fragile,
Of man’s ultimate conquests.
Water.
Which drips from above sometimes
When the sky salivates
At the hot porridge
Of a lifeless mess
Beneath itself.
Birds are like kites,
Leaves are like fingers
Dexterously typing whispers
Like signals to the wind.

Limited is the vision
Where we sit now.
Our backs immersed in the restlessness
Of the occasional writer;
Our eyes fixated on the botchy
Grey watercolor work of the sky.
Everywhere we look, wherever we see,
A band of seven colors break the reverie.
The enthusiastic trees type harder
All leaves in the virulence of a martyr.
Close your eyes.
Step beyond the panorama which
Refuses to bare itself before your soul.
Step beyond the boundaries of the visible,
Into the consolation of the miscible
Voices.

Moribund shrubs,
With faces of the half dead,
Half faced creatures of the unformed,
The cruel monotony of their demands resonate
Wildly with the marginalized.
How in their knots and hunches,
Leaves drooping intoxicated
From the light stolen away by
The more representative, the more vociferous,
Lies the silent acceptance of their abandon.
Here and there taller branches,
Crane towards the sunlight,
Hoping for the winds to listen,
Or perhaps,
For the sun to burn them away first.
Old cranes and their ignominious hoarse throats,
Can only coax words that are coarse.

The dull, blotted uniform grey
Densifies at certain places
A somber sleep indulges the sky.
The winds now,
In their frightful fancy
Scour the floor of your feet
Touching you soles,
Your shoulder, your spirit.
But the playful naught of the wind
Derives insatiable pleasure from
Tickling the trees,
Rocking the eucalyptus,
Till the moonlight washes away
All the eccentricities
Of the frivolous day.

After a joyous revelry,
The tree laughs less
The vigor in its chuckle realizes,
That it is time to retire.
The sky rearranges its clouds
To cast a pallor
Loses the yellow
The grey, for a darker, almost impenetrable
Black.
The water tank camouflages
With our beady eyeballs.
The transparent water fills up
You and me.
Our eyes dilate, staring into the sky
Bidding the dusk good-bye.
Come, live with me, a little
Poonam Mar 2018
In the wake of twilight, When memories stir you
Unwrap the book of a soul, A sketch have been carved
Unravel a chronicle of its painter, Hidden in the canvas

Moments of lonely summer days, tumultuous rainy evenings
Craving for someone to hold, in freezing winter nights
Etched in the canvas, She painted it with words

Distance would be crossed, separated by life and death
Caress the words, You will feel her pounding heart
Smell the pages, Breathe in her feelings

Lifetime she has woven, It’s her mirror image
You will understand her, Love her more than you did
She sketched it for you, It had always been only for you

If smile brightens your eyes, It’s her smile for you
If it saddens, remember it would be only her sadness
Tears smudged in words, The ones she couldn’t hold

Her soul thrives in her memorabilia, Kept hidden in her lifetime
If you see her spirit between the lines, She will rest in peace
Wrap the chronicle as the twilight sleeps, Rest embracing her memories
Ivan Brooks Sr Mar 2018
Someday I'm going to wake up
From my old rocking chair,
Somewhere far beyond this shore
And begin writing a memoir on my laptop.
The title, though vague and mundane,
Will encapsulate the tales of my life's journey.

In it, I will say less about money
or the girls I once called honey.
But I will rather mention that one special lady;
Who stood by me and only called me baby.

I'm going to dedicate an entire chapter to my people,
I'm going to talk about their resilience to the struggle.
There will also be a chapter dedicated to love;
Love for mankind, my family and the man above.

I'm also going to make mention of all the things I have done.
Be it good or bad, I will write even if it takes the afternoon.
One by one I will write down everything I did wrong.
After that, I'll play me my favorite Bob Marly song,

That one that tells the story of slavery and redemption.
In that particular one, I will use a little procrastination...
And at the very end of that memoir, I will give thanks to God,
For grace upon my life, my kids, my hustle and for spoken word.

Someday I will wake up far beyond this shore,
and write the final chapter of my life's journey.
I will then reveal the last wish of my life before I die.
I swear it will be so funny, it'll make every reader laugh.

IB-Poetry ©️
3/25/2018
I really don't know much about writing a memoir, is this a part of it, have I revealed too much already?
Tsunami Mar 2018
I talk to the moon every night,
During my evening smoke break.
Bathed in moonlight,
I ache.

Her and I,
Waltzing around the subject of goodbye.
We parley.

The stars,
Inquire of my lonliness
As if my memoirs
were written anonymous

Whisper to the nebulous clouds
resembling smoke from my lit cigarette
nothing to make a sound
Looping over and over on a cassette
i know you hurt me and you think its funny but i still love you and i still miss you
Rebel Heart Feb 2018
I saw something today
That reminded me of you
So I picked up my phone
Put in your number
And excitedly waited to talk to you
But with every ring you didn't pick up
My heart dropped lower out of my chest
.
.
"I'm not near my phone right now.. that or I'm purposely ignoring you Shanon just leave a message at the beep.. or don't whatever"
.
Beep
.
.

And it all hit me all over again
The feeling of choking
On my own tears
Drowning out the rest of the world
Because it had been so long
Since I last heard your voice
Yet it seemed it was only yesterday
We were playing street hockey
And making fun of eachother
And talking on the phone all night long
Just to hang out all day after
...
We would talk about our past
And what our future may hold
We talked about our demons
And secrets we never told
...
I remember being so angry
The day you left
After all we've been through
No sorry
No goodbye
Not even a single note
Explaining why
You decided I wasn't enough reason
For you to not climb into that bathtub
And press that razor blade onto your skin
...
How dare the sky rumble
When they took your lifeless body just to throw it in the ground
How dare the others cry
When you didn't make a single sound
How dare the birds still sing
When the world was falling apart
How dare the moon still come up
When nothing in the universe seemed to make sense
How dare they believe poems had to rhyme
How dare they still talk about the good old days
How dare they believe for one second they knew you at all
And most of all
How dare you--

How dare you leave me so broken
How dare you leave me so alone
How dare you call me your best friend
Just to leave me on my own?

...
The darkness lingering around my past
Found a deeper grip around my soul that day
As I watched pieces of my heart
Leave with you
.
.
.
Now I find myself sitting here awkwardly
Finally being able to string these useless letters
Into coherent words
To ask you if you're still listening up in the clouds
How dare you not pick up anymore
When I call you on the phone?



~Who else am I supposed to talk to when late at night my demons won't be put to sleep?
Who else am I supposed to talk to when all I want to do is curl up in a ball and weep?
(Pieces of a very old, 22-page-long, extremely agonizing memoir that brought me to tears because how dare you, with all this pain you carry in your heart, not realize how much you're hurting me before you're even gone? ~BM)

(Front Page 2/18/2018)
Ammar Feb 2018
we turn memories into memoirs
and
memoirs turn to pain
Phoebe Jan 2018
Now
It has been four years.
I'm almost done with high school.
I miss us. I miss the things we did.
I haven't been back to that place in a couple weeks.
But I do remember the first text and call,
I remember you telling me about your girlfriend.
I remember when you broke up with her inexplicably.
I remember the pet names you called me and how much I liked them. I remember a bus ride to a festival where you were trying to take my phone and I wouldn't let go of it so you bit my arm.
You left marks all over my arm and I was turned on by it.
I remember when I was driving around with my grandpa in the golf cart while he golfed and how we stayed on the phone while I drove for hours.
I remember you singing Lana Del Rey, I remember those hours.
I remember the week you were single before you started dating the next girl.
I remember that week was the beginning of my sexuality and the end of my innocence.
I remember you telling me you liked to be called daddy.
I remember my overuse of that word.
But we still hadn't touched.
I remember your new girlfriend hating me
and there was a three month period where we couldn't be friends
because she said so
I remember when you told me she was forever and you loved her
I remember when I found out you had broken up with her the summer between freshman year and sophomore year.
I remember I was at the beach when you texted and asked if we could be friends again.
I remember going to band camp with you and being so happy we were friends again
I remember that band camp was when you went through my kik messages and saw all my videos.
I remember how embarrassed I was but also excited because you had seen them.
I remember you coming over to my house and making friends with my family.
It breaks my heart when they ask about you. You called my mom Mrs.Pillon all the time. I loved it.
I miss hearing you say Mrs. Pillon.
I remember being flirty again only to meet your next girlfriend.
I first crossed paths with her when you were on the phone with her and I moaned to embarrass you.
I remember being there on your first date with her at the utility field and her curving you.
I remember us sexting when you were with her and I remember sending you videos.
I don't remember how it started.
I remember how we only talked about it the day after maybe once.
I remember you saying we were like bother and sister and then said nevermind "siblings don't ******* to each other"
I remember that one time we went to el rey just us two.
I remember you saying it was not a date.
I remember your stupid face and how embarrassed I was to like you
I remember the hours we spent together for band.
I remember all the events we went to together.
I remember sitting with you after all our competitions sophomore year.
I remember you would smack my leg and leave hand prints on me.
I remember how young we were and immature
I remember how often you took my phone and went through it.
I remember when you brought me to your apartment by the school but only ever let me inside if someone else was with us.
I remember meeting your younger brothers and how sweet they were.
I remember the second time I ever smoked **** I left the party I was at and walked to the school to give you a jacket I had bought you so you could go to the school dance with your girlfriend.
I remember being so in love with you and taking all your *******.
I remember being at Amanda’s party with you and when the basketball went over the fence.
I remember you going over to get it and getting stuck.
I remember everyone else left and I had to help you get back over.
I remember the way you said “please don’t leave me over here.”
I remember being in chemistry with you and your girlfriend and how she didn’t like me.
I remember when I got a message late at night from you saying all the right things and letting you cheat on her.
I remember the message I got from her saying she knew all about what we had been doing and our fight.
I remember I couldn’t call you and I told her everything.
I remember being in Hawaii when she called me names on twitter
and I remember when you broke up with her then got back together then broke up again.
I remember your calls apologizing and how you said we couldn’t be friends. Again.
I remember every moment of that time, being in that class with both of you watching you fix it with her.
I remember how controlling she was even before you cheated.
She was manipulative and told you you weren't a man for crying.
I remember not feeling bad for what we did with each other because of how ****** up she was.
I remember when you blocked me and never unblocked me.
I remember wanting closure and messaging you on the 4th of July going into junior year.
I remember drinking and eating an edible that night.
I remember how out of my mind I was
I remember you telling me I was nothing to you and I try not to remember everything else you said.
I remember seeing you and her together junior year and wanting to die.
I remember how angry I was that year.
I remember being so ******* mad at you and her and myself.
I remember when you finally truly left her.
I remember having that forensics class with you and how awkward it was.
I remember when you were sitting in the hallway outside and I had to pass by to get to class.
I remember you stopping me and apologizing.
I remember the whole conversation. I can’t forget it.
"Oh my you probably think I'm a ****" "yes I do" "sit down" and I slid down the wall halfway. "sit all the way down" and you said you broke up with her.
I remember the conversation went on and then ended with me going back into class and saying you owed me money.
I remember the way you laughed at that. I can't forget your smile.
I remember that class was so fun and made my day, everyday.
I remember the joking around that happened after that.
I remember everyone noticed our flirting and I felt so happy again.
I remember talking to you again and being so glad. I remember you coming up to my desk in that class.
I remember after school talking with you and how you said my name.
I can never forget the way  you said my name.  
I remember using google hangouts to talk in class and all the lyrics you sent me
I remember you were so jealous of Anthony and talking **** on him because he flirted with me
I remember everyone thinking we were together or liked eachother.
I remember finding myself in you even if it ended eventually.
I remember going to my first house party with you.
I remember getting high with you and the way you talked to my mom in the car.
I remember how fun those parties were and how safe I felt with you.
I remember being with your friends and feeling really cool.
I remember in June 2017 we went to a house party and smoked.
I remember how my mom picked us up that night and we dropped your friend off.
I remember you stayed sitting next to me in the backseat that night and us talking about college but that's all i remember about the conversation that night.
I remember we were talking and we were sitting so close, I still feel your leg against mine.
I remember I was looking at you and you were looking at me.
I can't remember what we were saying when I noticed your face was close to mine.
I remember things slowed down and I was just looking into your eyes.
But I remember looking into your eyes and both of us leaning in.
I remember forgetting anyone else was in the car.
I remember everything falling away when we were that close.
Just a second I remember looking at your lips and seeing your eyes and being so in love with you and we almost kissed.
almost.
Then we pulled up to your house and you had to go, I remember saying goodbye.
I remember we almost kissed
I remember the next day you claimed that never happened and got mad at me for even thinking you would ever kiss me.
I remember every time you broke my heart.
I remember when I went to a lake over the summer going into senior year and I told you I was on birth control
I remember I tried convincing you to **** me.
I remember you agreeing to me giving you head.
And I remember you taking it back in the morning.
I remember you saying you needed to get clean and stay away from girls.
I remember believing you.
I remember finding out you got a girlfriend soon after saying that.
A freshman. I remember how mad that made me.
I remember being so hurt and I cursed you out.
I remember you doing drugs soon after that.
I remember your nasty habit of smoking cigarettes.
I remember us drifting apart after that.
I remember when I called you and asked why you didn't want me, you said I wasn't your type.
I remember how calm you made me.
I remember how happy I was near you and how sad I am now.
I remember a few weeks ago when you called me and asked for my friends number. To **** me off, I thought it was funny.
I remember a few days ago when I saw you in the hall and how it all came rushing back. I remembered how much I missed you.
I remember yesterday when I saw you again and fell right back to missing you.
I remember texting you and asking if we could start over and I remember you saying you didn't want problems and you're doing fine without me
I remember how that made me feel.
I remember you and I wish I didn't.
I remember how we never got our moment and I wonder all the time how you really felt. I wonder all the time.
Just some memories
Pat Broadbent Dec 2017
Day closes to an open window–
A sill, a still rest for my spent legs;
Torqued over to face the breeze, welcome chills
Swing the brush with each croak of my knees.

Laughs crane over amber roof clay–
And somewhere behind a white fence
It’s someone’s birthday, a dog brays, coos rouse a baby
Who cries off-key with the family’s song

A dark cluster shifts in the sky,
And the moon emerges from nil.
I’d forgotten my eyes but to see like this…
So long since the night kept me filled…

Spark lights strung in beads on a rope
-Chatoyant, chatoyant comme diamants–
“Brille et brille petit étoile” string the notes
of a mother’s rock-a-bye song

My squeak of a refrain pitters into the air
-Cassant, cassant comme verre-
No love from eclipses we sing to,
No peace from mullings in prayer

Then a fairy book glow sweeps this vision–
Its air thick and sweet to the tongue–
My glance caught by shimmering scales on the back
Of this Ville like a dragon in slumber
—oh, to dance on that spine
—to leap from his eaves into air!
—to fly with these legs where I don’t have to sleep
—and days don’t sit brittle and spare

But fingers to the pulse in my cheek—
To a cauldron of wicked alchemy—
Trace an infection spreading like dragons’ wings
Where beasts may be best left sleeping.

Painfully pretty, the light grows ever fainter,
I should drink it in while I can still see—
There’s a reason art’s left to the painter,
And my brush colors sorrow on everything.


But I’m not sorry now, nor sad, though my eyes water
And wobble the world ’til I blink;
With my back towards the concrete, grounded, this altar
Casts a reverence over everything.
Still in works
ZacharyBaca Jun 2017
I'm alone and I'm feeling stuck I feel the weight of an elephant sitting on my chest and  the pressure is unbearable. I'm in a different place but I feel like I see the same faces. I feel like somebody is after me and wants to **** me but I feel like that person lives inside of me. My stomach hurts because the pressure is building so I let out a yell from the very bottom of it. I can feel a hot rush to my eyeballs as my brain decompresses. I can feel the pressure agai Yelling is the only thing that helps. Still, I grab the first thing that I see and I throw it, it just happened to be a backpack through a windshield with a laptop in it. I want to hurt everyone who's ever hurt me and then I realize it was me hurting myself this whole time so I inflict another wound upon myself.



How did I wake up in prison again today when in last nights dream I got so far away. I love running away in my dreams because though I know I should be tired I never run out of breath so I'm able to cover quite a bit of ground when I run away from this place in my dreams. I also like to  breathe underwater. Right before I went to prison I was still flying freely in my dreams I could literally run and jump and fly from place to place but after three years in, I can't seem to get off of the ground. I'm wondering if it's some subconscious thing going on.



The guards yells "stand by for chow!" With elongated syllables and his voice travels down the run with purpose. This old prison has the classic looking Steele prison bars you see in cartoons and movies growing up, it's actually quite eerie. I throw my sheet over my bed and tuck the blanket into the edges so it sits tightly around the mattress and fits snugly in the 6 foot steel soap container type mattress frame that is attached to the wall in a way that you can for this frame up and ******* to make your 6' x 9' space a little bit bigger . I only do this after I put my books in a stack at the end of it because they were spread out with no organization like sub group of war refugees. I turn off the TV, click the desk lamp,  press stop on my tape player, but I let the fan still run. I fold up the drawing I was working on into my dictionary of symbols along with a couple of the poems that were simultaneously being worked on - it's like I have to work on 10 different things at a time to keep my mind occupied. I'm stuck in the cell 23-24 hours a day with ADHD and I was the type of kid to wonder the city for 16 hours on my bike.  I like it because I feel like I'm getting good at 10 different things at once and though I know i it's pretty much impossible to focus on more than one thing at a time I set aside small focuses for each thing in bits and pieces and then go to the next thing, it's quite refreshing to be honest.



I throw some water on my face brush my teeth and I comb my hair back  after I put on a fresh T-shirt, some new pants and my new shoes . Even though I'm wearing all orange I want to look the best I can because it makes me feel good. On the walk to the chow hall we have to go down the stairs and central unit in Florence, Arizona. We all squeeze shoulder to shoulder on the tight run of cells and have to walk Down five flights of stairs and everybody is in a rush but still acting like there just walking casual it's pretty funny to see people do casual speed walks. Everybody's cracking jokes and excited because   Tonight we get pizza and we only get it a couple times every six weeks for they have the menu on a six week schedule. It might taste a little bit cardboardy but who cares it's been years since we've actually had a real slice.  And if you bring some salsa with a little bit of your own cheese you can actually fix the pizza up to where it's quite delectable.  



We pass through the old metal doors and you could fill the air blow from above where the door fan is. As I walk into the chow hall, I can feel tension among the other inmates - it feels like when the lowest frequency on a sound scale with a bass comes in really deep at the bottom of your stomach and a high pitch of the top of your ear that is out of tune and doesn't sit well. You can always tell when something is about to happen because everybody gets quiet and you can feel it in your stomach it's almost like the same feeling of fear and anxiety because the guy who's going to get gotten never knows it's him. I give the guard my last name and I get in line to get my pizza. The food trays come out of the hole in the wall  pretty fast -  inmates that work inside of the kitchen have this down to a science and their muscle memory and pattern recognition is that of an expert sous chef.   Pizza corn jello and a cup for the potent artificially sweetened juice they give us. I'm going to sit down in the middle tables because they have the tables sectioned off for people of different color the white boys sit with them white boys the black people sit with the black people usually closest to the door. The paisas (Mexican national)  sit with each other, the Chiefs have their own tables among  the Mexican Americans. I never sit closest to the wall because if you sit at the back table closest to the wall that means you're striving to have prison political ties and that is something that never interested me because though I am doing five years that is still a temporary stay and I did not want to join a prison gang. But when you're on the higher yards like central unit everybody is pretty much down for the cause so sometimes I will sit back there with homies. Once seated I grab my squeeze cheese from my right pocket, bite a  small piece of the corner off the packet and and squeeze it onto my pizza. I  also apply  some hot sauce and I get o have my friends pizza because he owed me from last nights 49ers game with a bet he lost. This story was probably believable up until the point I said the 49ers won.



while all this is happening in the back of my mind I know something is about to pop off because I could feel it in my stomach. once you know you're good then you're good as far as not being the one about to get stabbed or stomped on but there is always a lingering thought in the back of my head like I hope it's not me that they're about to get. I know it wasn't going to be a prison riot because we all would have known we all would've been prepared with knives ready.



I started eating. Yup cardboardy. Now a little bit faster because my gut told me something was about to pop off and about 3/4 through my second piece of pizza I heard it.



Attacks are usually really quiet in prison usually you hear the stomping of feet, grunting and groaning or slamming against walls so you can feel the wall shake. unless the person that is getting attacked by anywhere from 1 to 4 people starts screaming for his life and begging the guards for help.



This particular attack started with hoofbeats feet on the ground and punches landing and struggling breathing heavy and grunting. You never really want to look directly at what's going down because you don't want to draw attention to the situation or yourself if the guards aren't  paying attention. Attacks like this committed in the middle of a chow hall typically indicate that the person being attacked has to go and is no longer allowed to stay in the general population with us.



I'm Going to say which particular race or who was attacking who because specifics can get a little bit sticky if you are journaling your experience I would hate to offend any particular race or be considered a snitch. three men were stopping another man and it happened really quick. I didn't realize that they had knocked him unconscious and he was breathing really heavy and snoring as if he were dreaming of a beautiful place and had a stuffy nose at the same time.



In what seems like is forever or at least a really long time only just a few seconds have gone by before you hear the guards rushing in. four now eight now twelve guards with fire extinguisher sizes Mace cans, Spraying the men on the face both attackers and victim.



It's crazy because when you're in a room and they use those mace canisters on one person in the whole entire room gets clouded with Mace or Pepper spray  and everybody goes down on the ground and  starts clinching their throats and gasping for breath. some men cannot bear it,  though they typically don't die it seems like they're right on the edge of their last ****** breath.



I just felt bad for the person who didn't get their pizza in time because they're  going to be hungry while we're  all locked down until  the situation re-centers itself. then again the other part of me was a bit jealous because I'm sure the Mace served as a hot sauce and they got to enjoy a little bit of that.  



As I lay dying, I put my face in the ground in my arms and take the smallest breaths possible because it feels like I can survive these breaths and when you breathe deep it stings so bad that you can't help but to gasp for air and cough and perpetuate the struggle.



  I drift off to the beach... Here I am with my feet in the sand at the ocean. I hear seagulls flying above overhead and their calls are panning from left to right like the cleanest headphones you've ever heard. I can hear the waves crashing in and I can feel the sea breeze on my face.  it's one of those days when it's not too hot out but you feel good in the sun with the cool wind on your skin just enough to add A balance. Kind a like a sweet and salty sensation. I love this.



I'm really thankful because last time they maced the whole group it was inside of our living space and we had to sit there for 2 hours and cough but it was only the first 45 minutes or so that felt unbearable. The first time I got maced or actually experienced mace in a really bad way it was when they maced my neighbor inside of the shower because he didn't want to get out of the shower and I thought I could be tough and not feel the effects that much and I was eating crackers while I could smell the mace entering my nostrils. A few seconds later I was on the ground holding my throat because I felt like I was going to die and I couldn't even swallow the crackers I was gasping for air and hating God for this pains existence.



Now again we rise  up on our feet moving back to the run  where our cells are located and I can tell that a lot of the people who have been in prison for a long time who are not in the political movement Are really upset by this because they just want to do the rest of their life inside of these bars at peace.
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