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Rear women to
be warriors
And men to
be princes again.
Teach them to be kind
without requirement,
no other reason
than for kindness,
Solely to just be -
Little girls to
want superpowers,
Little boys
to be gentle,
And it to be
okay if they wish to,
To judge not how
any other person looks,
But to consider by
Another's deeds,
And both to
dream to be any
Or the other, with
no restricting, and
to be allowed to,
To love whoever,
whatever, whenever,
And for us to love
Them for their choices,
We stand by
Their side;
Let them all be
as well what they -
And not what
you, we, force them,
to be, what they
do want to be.
For themselves.
Haylin 2d
I rip myself apart,
Piece by piece.
I place bits of my heart,
Into your hands.

I tear my soul,
Little by little,
And gift a morsel:
But when will I realize,
You never asked for me,
Or my vulnerability?

Remaining transfixed.
You step on my soul,
***** it,
Bury it,
Beneath soil,
Without a second glance.
No mercy,
Or pity,
In your eyes.
Simply and only,
A slight surprise.
You never asked for my care,
And were never aware,
Of all I invested,
All that manifested,
Beneath my shell,
Deep within my heart.
So why would you mind,
Tearing it apart?
What do I tell these boys?

Call them a prince,
and they are likely to be assassinated
for the thrones, they’ve yet to sit on.

Call them commoner
and we deny them growth and glory
we handcuff their dreams to mediocrity.

Call them pauper,
and they will live and die in gutters
ingesting poison, thinking this is all they deserve.

What do I tell these boys?

Find your voice and speak the truth.
Speak what you see, how you feel,
never swallow your own tongue.

Risk being called ungrateful
risk letting them know that your superpower is simply being educated.
risk letting every achievement become a new target for them be to aim at for.
When I was a young girl, I loved to watch couples getting married and told myself that one day, I'll marry a man who can give me my dream wedding. Now that I'm all grown up, I still love to watch couples getting married but instead of wishing to marry someone who can give me my dream wedding, I'd love to get married to the man who knows my dreams and love me still no matter how simple or grand my wedding will be.
i’ve been told
many times
that my eyes
are the color
of the ocean.
just like my
mom’s eyes.

the color of
the sky after
a rain storm,
young flowers,
a little lighter
than the blue
on a walmart bag,
a worn jean jacket.

i think i like
ocean the best-
i miss it the most.

that meaningless word left dangling before children,

a damoclean sword held fast in a gordian knot tied with scarlet thread,

finer than the spider's that once tied men's souls to an angry American ***,

birthed in Transylvania,

over the woods, and through the dale, no lie

There is a tale of lies told in Nobel houses, never reachin' ground,

Down here, we situations manifested to, vain, again, stem the tide,

We flounder, fish out of water, why are we sent if


he hears, he listens, haps he knows, and

how such as we came

to be here,

Welcome and see, dare ye ask me in? Might I ply you with lies

and you, believe 'em?

I could make a mindless robot out of your parts, but

that would take forever and

that's not how

Wisdom's child would tend to be, for first,

You must believe a lie and I, amusing as can be,

can't tell lies.

Discernment, fine points, per-spicacity per se, the only way.

Good luck (Luc, said luck in many tongues, said Luc- as in Luc-ifer.

It means light, as in light, regular old granted light.

Lightifier, good, take some, good light, for the travail, in the night.

You see, not so long ago, for me, five years before I'as born,

my momma moved to town.

What was that like, I axed my old uncle, while back,

movin' t'town, in 1943?

Well, he says,

We had electricity.

USA, 1943, some folks still was poor, and all the good men

was gone to war.

Cities, it was different,

if the movies got it right, Bowry Boys, n'em.

In the desert we did, okeh, in town, though,

we had electricity.

He was ten back then. He'd been huntin' rabbit's,

to buy Christmas presents from Sears and Roebucks,

since he was five.

C'mon, I say. No lie, he say,

BLM or some gover'ment

whatsajigger, was payin' 2 cents a pair fer jack rabbit ears.

'Said he bought Christmas presents for his mom and dad,

and my mom, with his first rabbit money, at five.

Shootin' with a single-shot 22, 12 cents a box,

Jack Rabbits, 2 cents a head.

Three Christmas presents, plus postage, $2.56.

Do the math, I think, and go -

Five years old, at ten, he moves to town, 1943,

we had electricity. That's all.
An older man than me gave a thought to ponder. Thought I'd try to share the bounty. This is read, by me at http://anchor.fm/ken-pepiton
Mr X 6d
**** or Love?

My youth chose the former.

The heart crumbled,
And the body awakened.

And there it was..

A single cup of coffee at the table,
Reflecting a heap of worn skin and wrinkles.

Nevertheless, sunsets were always beautiful.
Tying cherry stems into knots

We wrestle unforgiving, sinful thoughts

The taste of you burns on my tongue

Midnight mistakes from when we were young

We keep telling ourselves we’ll be just fine

I can’t help but remind myself, you were never truly mine
You are the ocean and although I've never been a bad swimmer, I am ******* drowning in your waves.
Each time I get my head above the water and gasp for the air I need to survive, you pull me back under your blue waters.
Others have swam out so far and tried to pull me back to the shore, but as soon as my feet hit the sandy and safe shore, I lie on the ground and let the rough waves take me back out again.
My biggest fear is not that I will die from drowning in your wake,
but that I will never know what the bottom of your ocean floor looks like.
You keep me exactly where you'd like me- just deep enough to keep me from getting the precious air I need,
but close enough to the sky that I can never really see the beauty that lies beneath the surface of your water.
I fear I will stay here forever, because

I'm a good swimmer, I swear. But you never give me the chance to prove it.
voices in my body
screaming, singing
some familiar tune
that I've never heard before
these melodies grow old
in a young body
living on an ancient earth
unfolding of the heart
letting the past blow in
on an autumn breeze
these voices have a face
that no one can see,
no one can touch or kiss
but she is not hidden
though she lives
deep within me,
breathing through soft lungs
that scratch against the ribs of time
voices in my head
cannot seem to get my attention
when I am awake
for I am blind
without my dreams
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