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The Dybbuk Mar 16
"If I held myself to my resolutions, I would be twice ahead of the pack. Yet I find myself, perhaps unsurprisingly, bending the rules."
and now I think to myself that I too am in the same predicament.
and so I say, "What lofty goals of this world or the next do you aspire to? Those we share, we can accomplish together." And in the spoken language of prophets you replied: "let the shepherds of goodness upon the earth guide the hand of the ignoble, so that, in their ignorance, they may be of service to the light." But I hesitated; there was the smell of money on his breath... "Why not share our light across the channel we hold now to all brothers and sisters in need of light to shine from their eyes?"
The most valuable resource in the world is illumination.
Hannah Feb 24
Why?
Why do you have to make me feel like I’m tied down?
Tied down to your rules, your wants, and your needs.
I have choices too.
Opinions unheard, ignored, mocked.
I’m one of three daughters, yet you choose me.
The only time I’m chosen is so you can make your attempts at manipulating me,
taking any sense of freedom I should have over my future, my life, my needs.
Denying the chance to let me prove you wrong.
You may be right, I have called Wolf too many times but in this case, it’s different.
Give me the chance to prove you wrong,
to prove that I can do it.
That I can be free from this rope that holds me back from what I want.
Let me just be independent for once without the need for your so-called supervision and advice.
The advice that’s more like scolding and yelling.
Darkening my mood, deepening the depression.
Your words linger in my head for days upon days.
Have you ever taken a chance to stop and think that you may be the reason?
The reason I am so desperate to escape,
the reason I am dreaming of the day I can be independent.
Grey Feb 19
“What is a poem?”
My English teacher asks,
then barely pauses before answering his own question.
Lists of rules and reasons
spill from his mouth,
so many that he’s cut off by the bell.

I refrain from raising my hand
and telling him that anything can be a poem
if you want it to be.

The painting on the wall,
the fleeting peace that comes
from looking at the moon,
the little boy whose hands are already rough
and calloused with use.

Nothing makes a poem
but our minds and thoughts and wishes
for “poem” is just a word
but what it gives us is ours to decide.

Maybe even this is a poem,
though my English teacher would disagree.
2/18/2021
Felt like trying something new.
xjf Feb 5
Call it cringe
call it bad
call it great
or whatever you want
Hell, rip pages out
and make your notes
mail me my own poems
back with critiques for all I care
Just know that I don't care; about subject
punctuation
spelling or any of it
Because I swear
on all that I hold dear
if I have to hear
"that's not a real word"
one more ******* time
I'll lose my ******* mind
don't you get those school shoes *****
mom lit a *** and blew snakes of smoke
into my eyes,
clouded my vision as I hitched up my skirt
and ran into the mud for a mad moment of heresy
i will live by my own rules.
Follow the leader
Get in line
Don’t run ahead
Just march in time
Please remain calm
It’s just a drill
The hardest part’s over
We’re over the hill
Don’t ask questions
Trust in the plan
Shut the **** up
And get in the van
It’s for your own good
Mother knows best
Just keep looking forward
Only the dead rest...
Shewrites Jan 13
Somehow, It's exhausting to live in this world with some kind of a code of how to become a likable person.
Where in you should behave in accordance of what the society dictates you to be like,

so they won't ridicule you,

forced to follow the rules to survive or blend,

pretend to be someone likeable,

make friends,

go to work,

bathe everyday,

follow the trend,

build high defensive walls

and  basically just do what the others do to avoid being labelled as

******,

Crazy,

madmen

insane.

Sometimes, I just want to be crazy..

So I could have an excuse not to follow rules

do whatever I like,

say whatever I want

and just be ME.
Got inspired from the book of Paolo Coelho "Veronika Decided to Die" Circa (Jan 14, 2017)
Anais Vionet Jan 5
I want to speak to you so badly
but I’m just going to sit here hoping
you’ll start the conversation.

Boys are so dense!

I even send an obvious signal:
I didn't pull out my phone and get all busy
the moment we were alone.

Duh.
cross gender (intergender?) communication can be like contacting aliens
andTilly Dec 2020
the thing you learn, when a child enters your world
is pain, and suffering out of your control
also, laugh and smile for things bigger than yourself
and how you missed, needed that one thing, friend -
wet wipes…

mostly, one of the thousand uncontrollable misfortunes’ birth
the moment when the first spoon of avocado needed to end up on your shirt
©2020 andtilly.com
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