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Zywa 1d
No blood needs to flow
we may as well separate
and combat only in stories
who we are, brothers and sisters

with the common needs
for a place of their own and virtues
that are sometimes vices
knowing better, living better

thinking to be better
willing to sacrifice lives
for lack of an angel
who stops us

only reading the discord
in the stories and concealing
that we are brothers and sisters
as if we are not
Isaac and Ishmael

Collection “From sacred Scripts”
vic Mar 3
I wonder if the handcuffs were hereditary
If we were fed through those chainlink umbilical cords
Cut free and raised in disguised prison wards
I think our birth certificates may have been the first warrants for our arrest.
“Prison” was never a ***** word growing up
It was tossed around in potato salads
Mixed into our cole slaws
And served to us like pecan pie
“Prison” was not a ***** word
It was just a place that family members ended up
A Motel 6 specifically designed for Randolphs
But then middle school started
I was told that prison was for bad people
I refused to believe that it was for bad people
That my family shared rooms with criminals
Talked with murderers and thieves over a metal dinner table
That they were bad people.
How are you supposed to feel when you’re told that your DNA is bad people?
What are the charges against my biology?
What crimes have my genetics committed against the court?
Why are their laws written down in my ancestors' blood?
I suppose prisons are for bad people
But I don’t think you’re a bad person.
I wish I could just believe you’re a bad person
Since you’ve missed every warrant for communication
Every request for appearance to the important dates of my life
And I still want to pardon you from all charges
Because you’re my big brother.
I don’t think you’re a bad person
It’s easier to think that the handcuffs were hereditary
Than to believe that you ended up here on your own accord
And I wish this was your first time
But this isn’t my first time crying your name into a cinderblock wall
Begging for the release of my bubba
You always laughed when I called you bubba
Said that I had a way with words yet I still couldn’t pronounce “big brother”
I wish we got to know each other better
We were separated through a cascade of different fathers and custody cases
Names inked into legal paper before I even knew how to write it myself
I haven’t talked to you in over a year now
The only recent photos I have of you were taken at a police station
But you only got arrested a month ago
I can’t excuse the other eleven
What’s your excuse from running from family?
From the only sibling, you have left?
These handcuffs are hereditary
And every time they rubbed against your wrists, mine burn
Every time they say your name in a court setting
I hear it slamming into the sides of my skull
Every time they shut the bars of your cell
I am barred from another part of my soul
And I wonder if my name even passes through your thoughts
Cause when we mourned for our lost sister together
You said it was us against the world
So what’s the reason why you never returned my calls?
You said we were the only family that we had left
But as children of parents who didn’t care for them
The word “family” didn’t exactly hold much importance
We spent decades masquerading ourselves in the backgrounds of other people’s family photos
Trying to pretend like we weren’t secondhand children
We weren’t lost souls
Yet when they recounted their old memories
We could never fit ourselves into their homes
I relied on you to keep out of trouble
And raise your kids better than Mom ever raised us
But my nieces and nephews are still shallowing down the word prison like it’s Tylenol
You said I was the only family you could trust
The way you’ve treated me and your kids show me what I should’ve known all along
Whereas I had a way with your words
You never understood their meaning
Preferred silent smiles and passive-aggressive grunts towards showing emotion
You don’t know what family means
And I wonder if you can even feel my pain
Yes, these handcuffs are hereditary
And I feel your felonies burn in my veins
Causing avalanches in despair to cover my brain
Because what you don’t realize is as the youngest sibling
I inherited everyone’s pain.
Even your's.
Anna Skinner Feb 24
When we all go to Memphis, we spread Ludington sand in Matt’s flower beds,  like somebody died, and a silence falls as we let the sand sift through our fingers like ashes.  It smells like Michigan, like seashells and ***** lake water,  and it drowns out the construction workers making new-money houses.
Instead of funeral hymns, we’re blanketed by sawdust and cigarette smoke.  We sip and savor Evan Williams and for once, none of us speaks.  
Our veins light on fire from the whiskey, and our souls share a collective ache,  like our bodies are made from some sort of symbiotic cell.  

After The Spreading Of The Sand, we go to a haunted bar where entry is a password, where there’s a frown of a front door, and the exposed brick walls reek of the dead girls upstairs. I think, This is Memphis, a very loud city with louder secrets –  the overpowering shadow spreading its fingers in all her corners, silent until she swallows you whole.  

Memphis realigns your center –  
a snap of the blues, a ***** of whiskey and,  all of a sudden, things run much more smoothly.  

Memphis, she’s known as the City on the Bluff,  a place where summer storms split at the river,  don’t reconvene ‘til east of Arlington.  
Her protection, it’s always there.  
Like DNA shared among siblings,  blood is always thicker here in her quarters.  

Memphis, she tells me I should’ve kicked Worry to the curb all along.  

Memphis, she keeps her people safe.
kmr Feb 20
— brother —

I am normally
A logical person.
I find comfort
In explanations
And reasons.
But my mind,
And how my thoughts
Are processed,
Is not logical.
It is all
So when you
Attempt to belittle them -
With your
Facts and opinions,
Acting as if
I should just
Restructure my mind
In under a second -
You belittle me.
Because I am
My thoughts,
And my thoughts
Are me.
I was not good at Hide and Seek,
So I was always chosen the last in a team.
I could never tell a lie,
So my friends and family never told me their secrets,
They nicknamed me tell tale.
I could never fight my battles,
My siblings and friends were there for me.
Now that I have a broken heart,
Wounded and scarred,
I have learned to hide my pain and tears  behind my veiled eyes,
I have learned to hide my sorrow behind my fake smile,
I have learned to make my silence my strength,
To face my ordeal, heal and move on.
John Mendoza Feb 12
Wow it’s hard to believe that you’re already 23, yet it’s no surprise that we made it through this crazy life

Still we grew up fast but you grew up strong cause no one was there to help, when I was gone, as only God knows, that times were bad and the roads got long

Yet it’s the visions of your broken smile that, hurt me the most when I left, cause we both knew it was for the best

Though with all the time that has gone by, you still held yourself together, even as the past kept clinching on, we still made it through the bad weather and you’ve honestly never looked better

I know I missed it last time but I’m here now and I’m not going anywhere, happy early birthday sis, you made this far now spread your wings so you can go even farther
Happy birthday sis
Navpreet Kaur Jan 26
Promise me,
That you would be a good boy
That you would not complain
Of how you hate eating vegetables
That you don't have enough time
To play too much video games

Promise me,
To always
Come back home on time
So that Mom and Dad won't be worried
To always
Finish your homework
Because education is important
To always
Be yourself
No matter what people say

I won't be there
To remind you
Of this
When I'm dead

I love you baby brother
                                                                             From your only sister.
This is something I want my baby brother to know. When I run out of time in this world.
Annika J Dec 2018
Front seat
They think I can't hear them
But I can
"Too expensive"
"Didn't want"
"Technology addiction"

In the back
With the
New tech
Sometimes fighting
But are they

In the middle

Is it good
Is it bad
How far to go
Who to side with

Sitting in the crossfire
Between X and Z
Borderline Millennial
Without an army
zb Dec 2018
i remember the grit of the rocks under my feet,
the tug of tiny waves at my toes,
the smudges of mud on your cheeks,
we were so small.

the grass was dead and the air cold
and you knew exactly why,
always smarter than me
but how could I ever even think
of holding that against you?

we never made promises,
but even death couldn't do us part
blood is thicker than water, isn't it?
i hate that phrase,
hate everything it means
and everything it's done to me
but you are my closest
and maybe it is the blood
running through our veins
and dripping from our noses
Paola Verduzco Dec 2018
My dearest one
My little love
So “tough”
   Yet so fragile
     To be
         My handsome
           Little one
            Not so little at all
              Now stop
               Don’t grow
                 Not anymore
                   Why are you bitter
                     Mad at the world?
                       Grow out of your hate
                         And into our God
                           Stay safe
                             And stay away
                               Way away from evil
                                    I can only be there
                                     Be there for you
              For so long, I’ll defend you
          And always care for you
    Love you, you little
Not so little homie
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