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"christan" poems
Name: Falen Acon Residence: San Diego California Age: 15 (almost 16) Birthday: Jan 4, 2000 (Capricorn) School: Don't worry about it! Grade: 10th (Sophomore) Class Of: 2018 Favorite Color: Ballet Pink, Gun Metal Gold and Burgundy Favorite Flower: Wild Flowers, Roses & Sunflowers Hobbies: Dancing and Poetry Favorite Food: Pizza Favorite Drink: Strawberry and Root Beer Soda Favorite Dessert: Ice Cream (Shakes) (any flavor) Happy Place (place that makes me happy): Beach or Dance Studio Career Path: Professional Dancer Lucky Day: Saturday Lucky Number: 3 Favorite Number: 7 Friends: Christan Zeal, Elsa Angelica and Drevon Young Goals:  Find true love, Find happiness and Travel World Favorite Artists: Lana Del Rey, The Weeknd, Drake, PartyNextDoor, Post Malone, ILoveMakonnen, Rae Sremmurd, RDGLDGRN, Kyle, A.$.A.P Rocky, G-Eazy and Zayn Malik Celebrity Crushes: Zayn Malik, Justin Bieber,  RED (from RDGLDGRN) and Steph Curry (GSW) Favorite NBA Team: Golden State Warriors (GSW) Favorite NFL Team: North Carolina Panthers Favorite MLB Team: Chicago Cubs Favorite College Football Team: LSU Tigers Favorite Nascar Driver: Kasey Kahne Future College: Texas State University (TSU) or Something :) Future Sorority: Delta Sigma Theta (DST) /_\
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Dec 6, 2015
Dec 6, 2015 at 11:56 PM UTC
About Me (Bio- Non Poem)
You see, When you grow up in a place such as I have, And you're a person like me, You start to have a special kind of hatred for small towns. In my town, In the land of the brave, And the home of the free, Things are messed up. Our motto should be- Land of the cowards, And the home of the free (if you're like us). ...They wouldn't even know how to spell you're correctly. In my town, Bibles are thrown, Names are called, Cars are keyed, And people are beat... All because they're different. Its not necessarily the different that you would imagine. If you're red headed, Or anything but Christian, If you're a yank, Or a gay, You're hated on. I can promise you this. At the red heads, They accuse them of witch craft, And being in line with the devil. Some have even went so far, As to burn down ones house. If you're not a Christan, Run as far away from this town as possible. Its not the place for you. On the road I live on, There are 7 Southern Baptist churches, JUST on my road. Southern Baptist are a little crazy, Run boy, Run. If you're a yank.... You'll be excluded, And yelled at. Everything bad that goes on in this **** town, It will all be blamed on you. If you're gay, Oh lord forbid that you're gay. Don't be gay in this town, Just dont. You wont survive. As for me, I am a red headed girl, Who comes from out of town, Who isn't a yank, But is still treated like one. I am a Christan, But not as much as I need to be, And I am not quite straight. I dont like this small town of mine, But its the place I call home.
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Dec 27, 2013
Dec 27, 2013 at 12:34 PM UTC
Small Town
You see, When you grow up in a place such as I have, And you're a person like me, You start to have a special kind of hatred for small towns. In my town, In the land of the brave, And the home of the free, Things are messed up. Our motto should be- Land of the cowards, And the home of the free (if you're like us). ...They wouldn't even know how to spell you're correctly. In my town, Bibles are thrown, Names are called, Cars are keyed, And people are beat... All because they're different. Its not necessarily the different that you would imagine. If you're red headed, Or anything but Christian, If you're a yank, Or a gay, You're hated on. I can promise you this. At the red heads, They accuse them of witch craft, And being in line with the devil. Some have even went so far, As to burn down ones house. If you're not a Christan, Run as far away from this town as possible. Its not the place for you. On the road I live on, There are 7 Southern Baptist churches, JUST on my road. Southern Baptist are a little crazy, Run boy, Run. If you're a yank.... You'll be excluded, And yelled at. Everything bad that goes on in this **** town, It will all be blamed on you. If you're gay, Oh lord forbid that you're gay. Don't be gay in this town, Just dont. You wont survive. As for me, I am a red headed girl, Who comes from out of town, Who isn't a yank, But is still treated like one. I am a Christan, But not as much as I need to be, And I am not quite straight. I dont like this small town of mine, But its the place I call home.
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59
Type it out you ******* this could be The last one For a little while. I made a promise with myself Or whoever that shady character is, Outside On the deck with me The one who Makes fun of me Delete words as I puke this Poem? Out.   Its best that me and this keyboard become friends My anger towards, understand and accepting What is proper type, Or am I the proper type Of guy who wants Vegas And EDM And MDMA in My life So writing Or typing Whatever Which one Of me Wants to deem it for only when I dream It, cheap rhyme, I want my style to be my own And I want my intoxicated Meaningful Ramblings to be a Part of it A part of the Bigger picture. I will only type **** like this when i am not sober. Sober sure is funny And not just a funny word Smiley face emoticon Emoticon is not a typo .... Dear lord, oh god oh mighty, Blasphemy that I would Even start Talkin' about galaxies and universes outside of this one Puke some more As I delete and pull Words From One Line To the Next Without Giving a **** That my Microsoft word Capitalizes Every text My little brother text (texted?) Me tonight and said "Get more ink For the typewriter" . Aside for my desire to ramble on about Getting more ink The 16 year ol’ champ Is right My biggest dreams at this moment Are childlike If that’s a good thing… Then my 6 year game plan From this day is in jeopardy. Autocorrect me more Higher intelligence And answer me question’s The one’s that Christan’s Don’t need answerin’ Have you ever been introduced to a 16 year old **** A 16 year ol’ **** Honestly, I had my eyes locked On – one Tonight And I don’t know so much if I was looking But maybe I was recognizing Recognizing a certain Level of respect that I had For her That she didn’t have for herself She ****** off my best friends brother to get her backpack back tonight In front of car headlights And I have always wanted to type Backpack back My entire life. Put your backpack on buddy, And walk away from this Poem?
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Feb 16, 2014
Feb 16, 2014 at 5:33 AM UTC
Real Talk.
Type it out you ******* this could be The last one For a little while. I made a promise with myself Or whoever that shady character is, Outside On the deck with me The one who Makes fun of me Delete words as I puke this Poem? Out.   Its best that me and this keyboard become friends My anger towards, understand and accepting What is proper type, Or am I the proper type Of guy who wants Vegas And EDM And MDMA in My life So writing Or typing Whatever Which one Of me Wants to deem it for only when I dream It, cheap rhyme, I want my style to be my own And I want my intoxicated Meaningful Ramblings to be a Part of it A part of the Bigger picture. I will only type **** like this when i am not sober. Sober sure is funny And not just a funny word Smiley face emoticon Emoticon is not a typo .... Dear lord, oh god oh mighty, Blasphemy that I would Even start Talkin' about galaxies and universes outside of this one Puke some more As I delete and pull Words From One Line To the Next Without Giving a **** That my Microsoft word Capitalizes Every text My little brother text (texted?) Me tonight and said "Get more ink For the typewriter" . Aside for my desire to ramble on about Getting more ink The 16 year ol’ champ Is right My biggest dreams at this moment Are childlike If that’s a good thing… Then my 6 year game plan From this day is in jeopardy. Autocorrect me more Higher intelligence And answer me question’s The one’s that Christan’s Don’t need answerin’ Have you ever been introduced to a 16 year old **** A 16 year ol’ **** Honestly, I had my eyes locked On – one Tonight And I don’t know so much if I was looking But maybe I was recognizing Recognizing a certain Level of respect that I had For her That she didn’t have for herself She ****** off my best friends brother to get her backpack back tonight In front of car headlights And I have always wanted to type Backpack back My entire life. Put your backpack on buddy, And walk away from this Poem?
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103
What Do You Care       Why I Believe,       What I Believe,         How I Believe, Who Or What,        I Believe In, Why Does It **** You To Know      Every Single Little Detail Of My Brain,   Why Does It Matter, If I'm Not The Same As You?         Why Do You Care, If I'm Against Some Things,       Because That's What I'm Supposed To Follow Why Do You Care If I'm Agualistic, Buddhist, Or Tribal, Or Christan, Or Muslim, Jewish Or Hindu, Mason, Taoist, Or A Hybrid Of All? Why Do People Fight Over Which Is Correct, Instead Of Just Keeping Their Trap Shut, Why Do People Critize, Instead Conquering Thier Ego, Why Must We Sit Here, And Be Judged By The Opinion, Of People Who It Doesn't Even Affect, Why Do You Even Care?
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Nov 3, 2012
Nov 3, 2012 at 4:49 PM UTC
Religion
Farther God, I lift up my hands, today is that the day, you show your love, when I was just a girl, I call you friend, as of today I call you farther, show me your love, show me your love, I need you guidance though out my life, Show your love, Show your love you die on the Cross for us Show me your love Show me your love That is my farther  YO Believe in the word, trust in him, He got your back, don't worry  what tomorrow bring, trust in the farther YO, HE GOT YOUR BACK
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Jun 12, 2014
Jun 12, 2014 at 6:41 PM UTC
(Christan Rap) Show Me Your Love
Who is it to tell that one of purity and evil cant be tied to union. One with the leather wings and a cackle of nightmares Another, a voice of angels and a halo of gold. Who is it to tell that two of different species can't love?
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Feb 2, 2015
Feb 2, 2015 at 10:15 AM UTC
Beloved Christan