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Ylzm Apr 2019
A Liar says this and does that.
Cries, "Insult!" at any hint of Truth.
Uses Violence as proof, for surely
only Truth is worthier than Death.

If what you hear
and what you see
are not the same,
what do you believe?

Your Eyes or your Fears?
Chris Apr 2019
Larry walked to the store,
To buy a pack of smokes,
He's had enough, he want's no more,
He's sick of everything; so he walked.

He entered through a stain'd glass door,
asked for his brand and waited a while.
He saw reflections on the floor,
He saw his ugly crooked smile.

He paid and was ready to head home,
but suddenly, there was a sound.
The glass broke as a brick was thrown,
and blood splattered all around.

Larry got up, his head was red,
He dragged himself out of the store,
Laughing loudly as he bled,
He lit a smoke and laughed some more.

He saw the guy who threw the brick,
Was it him,... well nevermind,
He yelled : ' Oi stop there you *****!'
And started rushing from behind.

They ran a good mile and a half,
before the guy was too weak to run,
Larry smoked and let out a laugh,
And said to his victim:'now you're done!'

Now, Larry angry as he was,
didn't go straight for the ****.
He wanted to have some fun,
And he knew then that he will.

'Kneel' he screamed at the guy,
as he drew close step by step,
'Kneel or I swear you'll die!'
He shouted out this final threat.

The guy afraid beyond his mind,
kneeled and looked him in the eye,
The kick that followed made him blind,
And he only let out a sigh.

Again the blood shed on the floor,
As Larry struck the final stroke.
A man's life was here no more.
And Larry lit another smoke.
Pointless Catharsis
devine Apr 2019
tears and laughter
he throws everything at her
dreams at the face of disaster
there’s no happily ever after

an ungrateful witch
a compliment she sends herself
a foolish *****
a thing he says to himself

you can’t hear her voice
she’s too deep in the void
it’s never her choice
it’s always up to his joys

she falls
she leaves cuts
people think she’s nuts
well she wants to be happy once

he smiles
he laughes
he travels million miles
he doesn’t have to face trials

she says “i’m done”
“i’ll be gone”
“i’ll leave in dawn”

he runs
he left her.
vic Apr 2019
I spring awake at four a.m.
Inscitvely clutching my phone to check on this kid’s petition
“End the G.S.A.”
The stress eats away at my sleep schedule
As kids use one misunderstanding to take away my heart and soul
A club I have inputted so much of myself into
And funny enough “Vic” has three letters too
I can’t sleep without their 300 signatures popping up behind my eyelids
Comments being recited in the most repressed part of my insecurities
300 people who are against one of the clubs that saved me
Saved my friends
Saved so many people
But there’s no room for a gay presence in Johnson County
I spring awake at four a.m.
Visions of the kid who keeps his gun in his car spring into my head
My chest feels open already
Have already bled out every ounce of pride in me
What more harm can this kid do?
Don’t they understand that by killing my spirit
They’ve already made storage container for their bullets?
I spring awake at four a.m.
Because I do not let myself feel any other time
Must stay strong to show that I am bigger than their hatred
That I will go on
So I refuse to let myself accept that ever-consuming fear that grows in my stomach
It’s just indigestion
Just me being another overdramatic queer kid
Just everyday life that I must adjust to anyways
I haven’t let myself feel since the incident occurred
And the reactions poured in
Drowning any sense of safety I used to feel
I am choking on their unadulterated bigotry
Gasping for air amongst the abundance of hatred
And I’m not sure if I’ll ever breathe right again
I spring awake at 4 a.m.
Because I guess it’s the only time I feel safe anymore.
School is a warzone for people like me
And I can't hide in the crowd so easily
When it's 1v300
So I'm desperately trying to hide behind my poetry
I spring awake at 4 a.m.
Because I don't know if my coping is working.
did not revise this at all, just a quick poem of my thoughts before i try to get back to sleep
pôr do sol Apr 2019
Don't speak harshly,
Your words will form swords in me

Touch my cheek; speak gently,
And they will form worlds in me
starstrike Apr 2019
Only the stars can save me now
Grant me the honor of no gravity
Let me float away in space
Weightless
Away from the world

Solidarity
Singularity
Independency

Make me one with the cosmos
Space dust coalescing
Stars birthing and dying
In simple, silent majesty
And vehement violence
If it can even be called violence
without malicious intent coined by **** sapiens brains
For into the void there is nothing

Sweet, sweet nothing

No society
No expectations
No humanly constructs

It just is
Or it isn’t

What a concept
Michelle Shaffer Apr 2019
For he is now gone
Far from the place that he once belonged
With one shot
His temple fell into foreign ground
The rubble making no sound
His last memory was of red and dirt,
With feelings of only hurt
His homely roots became a mere smudge in his head
Thoughts of peace and love escaping with his final breath

Tears of a barren soul sink into a dying Earth-
Giving birth to only prickly vines and stubborn weeds
An empty womb,
A full tomb
-His parting gifts,
Haunting her with thoughts of agony and emptiness.
He lives only in picture frames
in books, and in her brain.
Those things that once were,
Haunt a good night’s sleep.

In a town shaken by shock
In a country ravaged by rage
In a world polluted with poison
Littered with the bodies of those who never age
With the minds of those stay in the same place
One’s true struggle
is trying to move on.
Gandy Lamb Apr 2019
À sept heures, Karim prépare son sac.
Karim parle de sa routine du lundi.
Explique å quelle heure il fait des choses illustrées.
Imagine that you write an advice column for the school newspaper.
This week you're responding to a letter from a student whose daily routine is so boring that it is affecting the student's work and overall mood.
Write the sthdent a letter in which you recommend several creative and unusual ways to spice up his or her daily routine.
Je fais ma toilette.
Je me couche.
Au revoir.
Dedicated to my heroes, John DeMado, Séverine Champeny, Marie Ponterio, and Robert Ponterio.
chitragupta Apr 2019
How will the vain
who love the noises of their own voices
gather the patience to listen?
Common sense has gone missing

They wield weapons
blunt and loud like a demagogue's growl
that defiles civil notions
Tools to toy with emotions

-X-

Glaring, with nostrils flaring,
at a divorce of nib and ink
My words, forming furiously -
Sharpen them more, rethink!

My words, they will cut deep -
They will pierce the thickest of skins
And find their way into dark hearts
to remind them what it is to bleed.
Feeling quite hateful.
Maybe it's me.
Or maybe it's the world.
Or maybe it's the world I see
on the news channel.
Good fortune to you, friends.
Megan Jones Apr 2019
"Can I take you home?" Home-
"The place where one lives
Permanently, especially as a member
Of a family or household"

It was August of 1993,
Summers were always humid down there
We would sit by the lake and watch the boats
With their bright lights and distant laughter
We would swing under the branches of the weeping willow
Catching fireflies in jars, just to let them go moments later

He would only come 'round when it was warm again
He would take the boat out with us, teach us how to fish
We ran to the end of the driveway-
Where he would pick us up to go get ice cream
I would stare at his hands, shifting gears, ***** and shaking

She would get angry with him and smash the dinner plates
We would sit outside and hum our favorite songs
Falling asleep under the willow, just beside the motionless water-
Shaken awake by the sound of yelling turning to screams-
Then, the sound of a hammer snapping against thick steel- again-
Muffled cracks stuck in our eardrums, repeating

Under the willow lay a fresh mound of soil
Next to it, a small cross we had woven out of sticks and twine
He left as suddenly as summer days, never found
The fireflies didn't come 'round anymore, people in boats didn't laugh anymore
Soon after, it was abandoned- that home -and never spoken of again
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