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K Sep 2017
Twenty. Three. Hours.
Sardines sleeping on ***** floors
not caring about the shoe marks
avoiding the possibility of getting drooled on
We sang songs from rent between the seats
ANDY YOU GOONIE

Are we there yet?
I am the snack queen my children
Are we there yet?
it’s so much warmer than back home
ARE WE THERE YET?

I woke to see my first palm tree
palm trees are ******* weird

I was a princess
I let her curl my hair
I can’t feel my fingers
I understand why kids are always crying at Disney world
Its sensory overload

We lay on the beach
Our feet touch the ocean for the very first time
Her sunburn didn’t go away for weeks
we wanted to be jedis
Why was it “12 and under”
THEY DON’T UNDERSTAND

We sang songs from beauty and the beast
bonjour bonjour
Marie the baguettes hurry up
We got stuck on small world
We died on pirates of the Caribbean
You promised there wasn’t going to be a drop
I WAS NOT PREPARED

We watch the fireworks
And the neon lights
before being packed like sardines once again
Listening to her say ANDY YOU GOONIE
But that’s okay
Because I just love you guys.
Hailyn Suarez Sep 2017
In the kingdom of Saturday an angel holds nothing,
encompassed by picture frames.

A human trafficker bites a popped Tylenol,
Eviscerates the nightmares that circle his crown.

An optimist puts their hands up,
Envisions a tableau soothed with moisturizer.

A chieftain offers a beer to an orphaned
Child, lush with vermillion blotches.

A physician shrinks down in front of,
A simmered-out wife, head towards the door.

A gypsy considers being alone,
xenophobia resiliently grips her throat.

A mystified boy points to a girl,
Whispers inaudibly “I miss making her laugh.”

A priest begins an unimaginable service,  
“My prayer is simple, my dear one,

Live for tomorrow, not yesterday.
Open your hands.
written for CW350A, this writing assignment was impossible and this is what formed
Seema Aug 2017
The strange song
Rings in my ear
Something's wrong
Why do I fear?

My body is cold
With sweat drops
My breath I hold
And then it stops

This unknown energy
Is trying to control
To create a synergy
And change me overall

Each day a different feel
If spoken, my words a lie
Lost appetite with my meal
I don't understand, why!

Its been few years
I am put on medications
Yet, my ears hear
The strange song with dedication...


©sim
Ok, I am not on any medication.
This is totally a fiction write.
Inspired by someone complaining to the doctor, that they hear drum beats in their ear.
MysteryMind7 Aug 2017
I text my dad good morning
He replies, "how's my daughter up at 5am?"
I say it's just how my routine is now kept
Little does he know that I never slept.


I wear a full sleeved shirt on a hot summer day
My friends ask me if I'm insane
I just say I don't want to get tanned
Little do they know that the arms are where the blade is manned


My sister asks me if I'm feeling okay
I tell her that I'm having a hard time in life
She tells me it's a phase, it won't last
Little does she know that I've been haunted for more than year by the ghosts of my past.


When I finally revealed my agony to you
You said that it couldn't happen to me
That I just needed to take care more
I tried, I swear I did, but it didn't work out, that's for sure.


Cutting myself wasn't the solution you say
But how can you expect me not to, when the blade way the only thing that went my way?
I found my pleasure in my pain
But **** me, I just couldn't cut that little vain.


You say I could have talked to someone.
You know what? I tried.
And when I did, everyone thought that I lied.
Lied about my depression and about my failing at life.


After some passage of time, the world thinks I'm okay
Then one day, after many, they'll notice that I'm gone.
I gave into the hole and they would mourn.
I let it devour me.
I fell into the bottomless sea
With no escape I slipped into oblivion.
The weight has been lifted off my chest.
I am finally at rest.
Just a random 3am thought.
Amethysta
.  .  .

Your name is music!
Your shape is sleek,
Loose yet tensing edges,
As if the story is at it’s peak!

A book in amethysta,
A book in pretty ink,
A book with pretty lies and a beautiful mistake!

A poem in amethysta,
A poem like it’s touch,
Will a hear a poem that describes itself this much?

Pretty little style,
Soothing words you speaks,
A font for writing pretty lies for all the world to see.
I wrote this poem about a font.
DaSH the Hopeful Aug 2017
Stranger things have happened
The splitting of an atom led to all the Eves and Adams
We just keep climbing up this ladder
What happens when we reach the top of it
Does it matter?
Still, stranger things have happened
I hung myself with string theory gripped in madness
And visited the vast void dripped in blackness
Crippled past tense reminds us of what was
And how inevitable it is that everything gets crushed and
Deboned with time
My skeleton remains hesitant at 11:59
Still even stranger things have happened
I woke up as a lab rat with a hazmat and a gasmask
Phantom of the operating theater with the seats packed
Breathing in sterile air trying to feel the breeze
Strap my self into a gurney
To perform out of body surgery
I said I'd never turn the other cheek but
Stranger things have happened
Jasmin A Aug 2017
You're a bouqet of wildflowers
I'm an average red rose
We're an odd set of valentine gifts

You're a sky dive over California
I'm a picnic in the park
We're a weird combination on a date

You're a sunset on the Bahamas
I'm a hot day in Arizona
We're so far apart

You're everything I want to be and have
I'm nothing you even think about
We're something that just can't be done
You can write better, I wrote this.... see what I mean?
Tyler Matthew Aug 2017
Some people are just
so normal they're weird.
Crisp suits and coffee
in the morning,
no gin and pajamas,
how freakish.
When they get mad,
they get productive
like insects,
rather than breaking
this or that.
Everything planned,
paid on time,
reminders posted
on the walls.
No kinks in their hoses,
no brown on their noses,
hair carefully parted
in just the right place.
They don't make art,
they buy it,
hang it on the walls
and then throw a party.
How lonely,
unfulfilled,
how strange their lives
must be.
My theory is
they've yet to find anything
worth going mad for.
Quick write
Mims Aug 2017
Hey,
I'm ****!
What?
Oh sorry,
Let me explain.
I ****** my life,
So much.

Yes, I'm a ****,
I don't like to keep track,
Of the people I've ******
Woah Woah Woah,
Not like that,
I've just,
Messed some people up,
A lot.

Don't ask me why,
Maybe I was bored,
Or maybe I'm just an 'I love you'
*****.
What?
Is this getting confusing?
Cuz its not always me,
Who does the abusing,
I'll tell you I can count the people I've dated on my toes,
However most of them were hoes,
But its not the ones I've been with,
Its the ones I know I never will be.
So when you already emotionally distanced yourself from me...

Of course we made out on the floor!

Relationships are messy.
Especially,
If you don't have one.
I probably won't see her after that
Paul Aug 2017
Once upon a time, there lived a butterfly.
Big blue wings, like the poetic sky,
With colors beyond any sight.
The butterfly was truly very smart,
He had good grades in butterfly school,
Top degrees and medals for excellent wing moves.
Though when he came out, out of his comfy cocoon,
He found out his medals don’t really help him get through.
Showing his skills, in biology tests,
He now knew, how this will end.
Limited time, so much to see, the pressure was quite unreal.
He tried to see it all, the wonderful sights,
Till it started to rain on the little guy.
So wet, so tired and so ******* stressed.
The butterfly did give his best.
And there he waited, for the rain to stop,
Till it all just went completely dark.
And so the butterfly, never really saw,
The beauties and sights, he read about without stop.
He wasted his time, for better weather,
And now he is just another wet petal.
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