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Shree Pandey Jul 7
I walked the halls with heavy eyes,
Hiding a heart that used to rise.
Trusted the ones with demonic eyes.
I chased the laughter that wasn’t mine,
Wasted gold in fools’ designs.

They called themselves the "coolest crew,"
But more like they were, the fools
I sat at tables built on lies,
Shrinking small to fit their size.
They played me bad , they did me *****,
And I wish I left early.

I was a spark, a silent flame
Trapped in games that brought me shame.
Could've scored, but played it tame
Forgot that I had my own name,
Forgot that I had to make it once again.

Back then, I wore the blame with ease,
Got Punished and rarely praised, brought to my knees.
Cried and hurt ,
Died and in shredded in dust
Scolded loud while they stood still,
Falling grades, a fading will.

But As soon as I left the crew
I truly grew
the day they left, the sky turned bright,
The gold returned, my wings took flight.
I studied hard, I found my pace,
I saw the sun, I won the race.
Got a new table to sit on with people who brought out the best.


Certificates in shaking hands,
Claps filled the rooms I walked in.
Black belt was put on my waist,
5 medals dangling on my chest.
The teachers saw ,they praised.
I stood on stages and made my stand.
No second thoughts, no shrinking fear
I finally felt I truly belonged here.

But listen—you who still have breath
To carve your path, to leave them and turn into the best.
Don't blame yourself for not a win, change the environment in which you practice in.
You have potential, don't let them take it
Don't let them degrade it .
Change your circles before they change you to core.


Don’t trade your shine for shallow price
Choose the friends who hold you tight
Not those who dim your inner light.
You're not gonna die a lone wolf,
You'll have your pack and definitely the best one .

You are enough, without their toxic bond.
Your worth is not determined by their pocket's size.
If they can afford they will ,if not they're just poor and out of will.
And if you feel you’re all alone
You’re not.
Just trust me you'll be fine
I made it. I came home.
And you'll too arrive.
A spiritual journey is funny.
Just when you think you've lost, you've actually won.
Not because you gave up, but because you learned to let go...

-Rhia Clay
Billy Wynne Veracruz
best baseball pitcher ever
Me Mestizo beloved by the shore a teen a wannabe Mom wannabe wife.
Within his theme songs
In beautiful mystic Vera-cruz.
From the Shaks restaurant my cashiering job
Pitcher asked to walk by the ocean hand in hand.
Baseball players eyes glared so sea-sky blue.
Tallest Knight touching hands.
Handsome king of hearts
"Sweet Caroline song blasted
on pitchers radio cassette player and
" The great Pretender,*
The hours long.
Smooth all passion
seed withheld and me fire firefly flew away..
~~~
Kings like you ought to have many wives
and many babies
Your kind are the crown jewels of fatherhood and motherhood best super human seeds divine
Your legacy rules Earth.
~~~
I found my own reign, great treasures my king heart of gold like mine, called me beauty himself Beast.
Loved to be a one woman man for a one man woman like me his rddbba-Ginny.
We fell in love at first sight
my true love my
handsome American.

Such elite chose me to change Earth he was the bridge and me his worldbringer portal to heaven his star seed.

My once upon a time my twin soul, twin flame King of hearts, became my imaginary best friend my owl of wisdom my everything.
Our theme songs were Spill your heart to me, and what a wonderful world by Armstrong L.
We were also beauty and the Beast.
The memory of my knight my king lover, my true love
my companion,
keeps me safe and sound.
~~~~
By: Mr. and Mrs. Andrews.
Honoring Karijinbba
https://youtu.be/utBKv9ZMojM
Ken Pepiton Mar 2023
Old wine, sometimes, has been
vinegar, a while.
On opening, one learns, they say.

It's good
for cleaning windows, and lenses.
- but we'd better let the next
- jug of that vintage go to auction

New wine. Make glad the heart,
workers in the vineyard, laughing tired,
sugar high burned out, say hey, boss,
why don't you hire more hands,

eleventh hour hordes appear, as they
by right of the lateness, are  payed
a whole day's wage.

And that's alright now, momma,
nobody cheated me, I worked all day,
took my pay.

And it is,
very good, if I may say
so now,
Life is short, but filled
with instances, infinite instants
in some state
of methodic mental ascent.

And that's alright now, momma,
nobody cheated me, I worked all day,
took my pay.

We got plenty,
we have confirmed,
as is, to up and hit the road,
go boldly old into this cold night.
Dust bowl radical mindset,  good for... sweeping generalizations
Broken Pieces Mar 2022
This is my personal poem to you,
One that I will keep private and new.
You have helped set me free,
In a way I never thought could be.

You showed me simple things that mean a lot,
I won't let the darkness have a hold, I cannot.
You've helped show me I can fight this life,
You've helped show me I can go without the knife.

You've let me see the person I can be,
You've let me grow so I won't drown in the sea.
I thank you for the simple things you've done,
You've shown me this battle can be won.
Sarah Flynn May 2021
you lost someone real.
you lost a genuine, good friend
who would've done anything
to make you happy.

I only lost someone
who never gave a ****
about me or my happiness.

think about this
and then tell me again
who was truly hurt by
the end of our friendship.

we both may have hurt,
but you're the only one
who lost something here.

I won.
Sara Kellie Nov 2020
Nothing lost is something won
in that awkward moment
between birth and death.

Kaydee
It wasn't meant to be a micro
poem but it just . . .
Dreamer May 2020
Won
They still think they won on own
Not knowing I lost on purpose
Ken Pepiton Apr 2020
Two old men in my magi class, were

walking in a public garden, during the scare in the air,

they touch at few common points, five years experience

more or less, in any given field of function,

they share in broad bubbles of common comps, experience wise.

One marriage... both have had one, not the same one

Exposure to radio music and commentary from birth... not the same music,
not the same commentary

Aware of war roles and support roles, from first words onward, aware of being
one of a we, who are the children of the winners,

except, the enemy remains, they shoulda stomped Stailin into Hell,
ever'body knew, we did, too... though

my 1948 vintage, was leavened with Hiroshima, in vitro, and

in seed, touched a bit by events near Alamogordo, where my daddy

participated in war ending events, this other old dude, he never saw that way,
what I mention seeing, today.

Hell is for heros. I think aloud.

My dad was an accountant, with a night school degree, four kids,
woulda been five, but Peggy died,
infant cancer,
some anomoly in the wind, was the rumor, where we lived,
south of the Nevada desert through which our
northern breezes list, licking up dust devils to twist novel

substance into threads of thought to think in time,

as the virus spreads, peace takes its chance, right on or

dead on, dead center, spot on, too right, smack
dab

hit it, and the skier rises from the vortex, towed by that line

linking me to the countenance, encountered, mirror neuron

tronic magi-missed spells, dangling

mod
if I were yous used as iusta use pennies behind fuses,

I owe you, nothing, but to define my terms, ere I dare con
verse
with you. Okeh?

Same page, two old men walking along, talking often,

one to the other, one to himself, each knowing himself,

each wondering the other saw what each noticed,

with a nod, saying, yeah, I was thinking you mighta noticed that.

Life's fun. But near the end, it becomes so believable, that it works,

despite our own seeming disfunction.
Nothing that crumbles can with stand, in a proper dust devil, in my mind
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