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Emma Ottinger Jun 2018
She says she doesn’t have the strength within herself to write poetry.
Yes, her. The one who so often nourished me with song
til my soul began to learn how to hunt for itself,
whose word carried weight in leading me to pick my own instrument,
albeit one of a different tone,
as the key in keyboard became prominent for the first time
and the sound of purposeful fingers upon it could be considered,
only in the right light,
synonymous to the plucking of strings, just as rooted in emotion.

Yet she's the first to say that she herself can't do it.

Thing is, I suppose we’re politely at odds on the matter.
She favors poetry that’s sharper, with a cleaner cut,
that’s message is immediate and jarring
as a conduit running from soul through skin,
or a loose-lipped diary finally freed from lock and key.
And when she declared it, I started to consider what my poems seem to me:
Blackberry bushes (but kinder, I hope)
that snag and immerse just long enough
to make me feel I’ve had an effect.
I’ve used writing to expel my most gnarled feelings
to any passerby who’s maybe felt the same.
Like crying in a mirror:
alarming, but oddly refreshing,
and an indefinite reminder that our aches are never only our own.

Still, I'm not sure why it blows my mind
to hear that even the most glamorous hearts,
who wear confidence as a summer breeze that's always in their favor
and who inspire, from beau gestures to sleight of hand,
are included in those who find themselves pacing back, back and forth,
begging curbside at the dime store
for a scrap of the same feed that convinces a heart to pump ink.

But she says that any art that's enjoyed is worth it.
So while she seeks out words that bare the bones,
I’ll stay and make a meal of the marrow,
hollowing them so that the poetry may have a rightful place
to reverberate as hymns in a universal monastery.

But hell, like I’m any old soul.
I dress nicer than I otherwise would,
turn to the mother who told me I don’t meet her lowest standards,
and ask for a critique.
All for the moment when she greets me at the door with a legendary G#.

...Now please, could you spare a dime?
Dedicated to Elise, who, when faced with my tangled mouthful of flattery, somehow saw through to the part of me that’s actually worth a ****.
Forgive yourself
We all get let down sometimes
Maybe you let someone else down
Maybe they let you down, too.
Hand in hand with uncommunicated expectations.

And it doesn’t have to be one person’s fault.
SimpleWritings Dec 2018
one of the hardest things in life
is to simply accept someone
for who they are

one of the easiest things in life
is to strongly hate them
for not being able to change

choosing the hard one
will help you grow

choosing the easy one
will help you destroy

but what if accepting someone
for who they are means loving them
more than loving yourself?

what if accepting someone
for who they are means accepting
violent hellos and condescending goodbyes?

06/06/2011
My friend has a baby and she's crying on the phone
She called me up in the park sitting all alone
Telling me about her problems as I'm writing this poem
Not every family show love to their child yet we still complain
About not having everything we wanted we can't relate the pain
A young girl thought her family loved her then a baby came
The baby smiled when he notice the family but don't feel the change
He's too young to understand life as things evolve it's never the same
Now the young girl became a young mother and her mother is ashamed
The young mother has a lot on her brain her son, the struggle, and a lot of blame
Life seems to get heavy if you can't release the stress
If you decide to commit suicide then you failed the test
The young mother is planning to leave with her baby from the nest
Everyday she's talked down in ways i didn't believe
Her mother told her the life she's living now she wont achieve
The things the young mother told me now I see why she has to leave
——————————— 
Since I'm a good friend like no other I actually care
I pushed my problems to the side and told her I'll be there
She never cried on the phone with me before so I had to go
I washed up, put my clothes on, and walked out the door
We chilled, We talked, We Walked back and forth
She took me on a journey of her life from then to now
I don't know how she could still breath...the pain she allowed
A strong young woman with a beautiful son....
 
Aaron Osgood
I wrote this for a friend in the 2010. Then she realized she was pregnant and sometimes family don’t agree. I have not spoken to her in a while.

This was copied from fb page.
KiraLili May 2015
Each time we push something down
Those moments we do not say
Holding back from telling how we feel
Suppressing what should be known

Politeness stops us often or decorum
Avoiding awkwardness or a hurt feelings report
Subjugating ourselves to avoid conflict  with another
Knowing full well that silence is acceptance

You hold back more than once
Pressure builds and you endure
The little things add up more often
What should have been said is now yelled

Stress or a disagreement breaks the seal
Before you hold back , before you repress you should find out
Put your tongue out  far and clamp down with force
See how long you can truly hold it, how long can you bite your tongue
Crow Mar 15
professor Burke and professor Lee
two mathematicians who could not agree

loudly voiced their differences at half past noon
having daily lunch at the Greasy Spoon

the subject on the fateful day was Pi
and they could not see eye to eye

a disagreement on the thousandth digit
had Burke turn red and caused Lee to fidget

said Burke “No you are off by one!”
spat Lee “Your math is poorly done!”

Burke shouted, “Lee, you have gone too far!”
reached toward the counter for a candy jar

but his hand instead encountered pie
a hideous gleam sprang to his eye

he flung the pie with all his might
hit Lee full face, eyes wide with fright

but Lee recovered and found more pies
Boston Creme took Burke between the eyes

apple, custard, lemon, berry
pecan, pumpkin, key lime, cherry

pies of every kind were thrown
plates' radius squared remained unknown

the police arrived to break up the fray
took the two meringued men away

many hours later in the quiet cell
with pie for ink and tempers quelled

the two stood looking at the wall
upon which lay their equation scrawled

said Burke, with both their faces long
“Well, what do you know. We both were wrong.”
In honor of Pi Day. With gratitude to Mr. Laurel and Mr. Hardy.
I welcome dissent,
Disagreement is vital,
To democracy.

Personal attacks,
Are also acceptable,
When grounded in truth.

Malicious attacks,
Are launched by liars to hide,
Inconvenient truths.

We must condemn lies,
Used to defame good people,
With differing views.
Anton Mar 13
Jamie keeps a middle aged white man imprisoned below his house as an involuntary *** slave.
Jamie also donates a few hundred dollars each month to human rights organisations around the world.
Sam spends a few hours most weeks attempting to draw people’s
attention to both local, and international slavery.
Sam neither donates money to human rights organisations, nor keeps slaves himself.
Whilst most people who are concerned about human rights issues have a problem with slavery, there is some disagreement as to the most effective way to address it.
Some are of the view that Jamie, despite his direct participation in slavery, is doing more for human rights than is Sam. The theory is that by donating money to human rights organisations, one can offset the harm associated with keeping a slave, and in Jamie’s case, since the donations are significant, Jamie has accrued a human rights violation credit.
-Frightening thinking
See www.messedupthinking.com for more
Trish Feb 2018
He used to look at me adoringly
I would catch him looking over to me and he would smile, lovingly
Admiring me in all my ways, with all of my flaws.  

He used to hold me so close and so tight
I would lay on his chest for hours
As if we were the only two that existed

He used to listen to me attentively,
All of my irrelevant stories, jumbled up
As if every word I spoke was important

He would walk out every disagreement and settle them by midnight
So we would have that bittersweet luxury of starting our morning right

He has my heart, locked away
He can keep it, but will I ever have his again

He says he loves me
But he also says we aren’t good for each other
I will never quit, for i will try until he's mine again
Even if i already think that i’ll fail
Because i want it back, to where we were at

I would carry all my fears, even if it’s forever
To hear his voice, speak to me endearingly again
To see his precious face, look at me the same way he used to
To have me be the muse to his songs and rhymes once more

I would go a million miles
Just to think that he is mine again
Even if all I hear are echoes of a dying passion
I'd still go, even if it hurts me again and again
I’m so madly in love
Lou Apr 2018
Simplest of names,
So plain, But how I love to say it
A promise for warmth in igloo block prison eyes
And tone of Daria,
just whelmed enough to respond
A chance of sarcasm is air
Venom in plain daylight.

Plain tone.
Plain mood.
Plain old abuse.
And most would take it from her.
As she would and certainly has taken it from us.

Petit feminine fighter with no haymakers or KO records.
****** face, that rested war and peace between chin and brow.
Baroness of motherhood or is it the queen of hearts and depression?

Stars and music always forever
Anchor tattoos with a key to a heart, now a predator.
Forever enchanted by the la-de-dah and bleeding heart affairs
A savior in no motion or fashion but I dare not call you hypothetical

But a standard broad, beauty and-
So shameless I celebrate seeing you, awkward and so ****
Cleopatra, to be a bit dramatic-
Yes Cleo-mantra, I collectively disintegrate all charm and physical form
And you,  unfazed or unimpressed with either detail of romance

My friend, compromised by style and NO amusement.
There is much more to you than ****** faces and belittling arguments.
There is more to you then practicing soapbox rants in your kitchen.
There is more to you than a shallow mothers intoxications and material.
There is more to you than the new hair dye or the wigs you collect.

The things you store in the boxes cluttering your room with everything not in those boxes
The clothes on your floor, decorations from your teenaged 3rd or 4th personality.
The smell of perfume and coffee and more perfume all over,
stuck to papers, next to wine bottles, borrowed and never returned books, unfinished snacks,
used paper towels, lipstick stained mugs and glasses, your sons toy I stepped on 4 times,
pictures of gone lovers and notes, your license; now found again after the second time ordering a new one.
And…it's expired,
Then finally under the aftermath of years, doubt, clutter, your cell phone vibrating in the fray of sheets.

"found it."

Least we forget that, as we forgot we are both in this room together.
You are so much more than this mess I picked up for you countless times
And though I complain I will pick it up for you and not ask your permission
I won't scold you, I can only exhale failure and help.

Staring blankly into your screen discussing all genres of worldly horror and ways to divert.
Such plans and opinions but no federal funding!
We would pay homage to girl power and the early 90's and call her G.I. Jayne-
(Or not cause she doesn’t have that kind of sense of humor.)
But imagine a solider, a true solider of the meek.
That is theoretically, G.I. Jayne.
Has all of our best interest at hearts, our hero.
Songs of children are said to give her strength-
(She really doesn't like this kind of humor, I must move on.)

My friend truly distressed by the world she can't control from her tiny screen.
I place all comfort I can to her and understandably rejected like a stranger making rounds.
No trust comes from her nowadays, None for me at least. I can't speak for all.
I try to climb over the steep absurdity, alluding to her self-mutilation and task this is
but not going as far as just telling her this is ******* killing me.

I have no lesser or sophisticated words.
I'm dying every time we reach these altitudes.
Fingers and my tone raising at every disagreement .
How you can break me down to my atomic core and decimate miles of friendship.
My closest star in the sky, use to bring me morning tea, flowers and maternity
We now stand in quasar as our space and stardust find mass in thousands of millions of years in development
For me to be sent to the loony bin and you to prison like our heroes from Clinton to Lazaretto.
For my friend.
Yenson Jan 5
“It's very difficult not to come across as a supremacist when there are so many black inferiorists around.”
― David Bullard

Look!..he's a leech, he's a parasite
That black man is draining the Taxpayers
He comes from a rich family, they say they are titled
Look at him, educated and refined, arrogant as black ****
Go get him, the ******* parasite cheating the working classes

Why not tell the ******* truth
That a white family of thieves broke into the flat of a black man
Something that they had done once already and caught but let off
Because they were neighbours and pitied, police were not involved
They did it again and were called thieving working class scums

Up comes hail and thunder and war
Their Militant leftist friends say it Anti-monarchy Revolution
Say's victim is a parasite and a leech, robbing the working classes
Go get him, his life destroy, cast him asunder, hound him to hell
Down with the rich, this is war, people's power, this is democracy

LIES, HOGWASH, DISINGENUOUS *******, RACIST CRAP

They can't bear to see a black man do well
They can't bear a respectable, decent, confident black man
To then stand up and call them out to their faces was the ultimate
They are supreme and all else must fall before them or put down
A black that is not a Black Inferiorist must be discredited at all cost

If the situation was reversed
And a black thief steals from an equivalent white with same status
(   He comes from a rich family, they say they are titled )
Would the reactions be the same
(Say's victim is a parasite and a leech, robbing the working classes )
Honesty says NO, you know it and we all know it

(Supremacy has taught him that all people of color are threats irrespective of their behavior. Capitalism has taught him that, at all costs, his property can and must be protected. Patriarchy has taught him that his masculinity has to be proved by the willingness to conquer fear through aggression)

But the black man becomes a leech, a parasite a threat
For standing up to white criminals and daring to call them out
Devious political  chicanery is unleashed and our Supremacists
All rally up, totting falsehood and misinformation to cover truths
Why don't see any Class war action in Kensington and Chelsea

What really bothers some of you is simple - and you corrupt others
Blacks must always be inferior and if they are not, you fight secretly and covertly!
Because only you have the God given right to live decently
Only you have the right to air your opinion or disagreement
Only you have the right to call it as you think you see it.

And you'll fight tooth and nail and with everything else to keep
it that way!
“Whiteness mitigates crime, whereas blackness defines the criminal.”
― Michelle Alexander, The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Age of Colorblindness
ollie Dec 2018
The first time I broke up with him
It wasn’t a break up
We weren’t actually dating
And it wouldn’t have been a break up if we were
It was a drift apart
And maybe we’d healed all of our hearts we could by then
We needed time to explore the rest of them
And we did
It wasn’t a break up
But it was the first time
It was friendship and flirting and things in between
I remember he used to ask me what we could ever fight about
And I would laugh because kids laugh
I would say “nothing”
And we fought about nothing
Everything was nothing and it was worth fighting about
A disagreement, a mismatch of opinion
Our first fight, he said, hurt like its own kind of hell
It wasn’t face to face
It wasn’t screaming
It was quiet
I don’t remember what it was about
It doesn’t matter
It was a different side of him
Worth ignoring for his friendship
The second time I broke up with him was a break
A platonic waiting for the punchline kind of passive aggressive
It wasn’t on purpose
Anyone who makes your stomach do flips is worth it
They’re worth it
But it started to flip anxiously
Like the season had ended for those happy little butterflies
I started to get nauseous around him
He joked that I’d **** him if he ever cheated on my best friend
I agreed seriously
It wasn’t a joke
It was a threatening to rip his intestines out by shoving my hand down his throat
It was breaking the skies in half
It was a boy I once upon a timed apologizing to a broken heart with chocolate
I lost trust
Losing trust is finally breaking through the facade
Losing trust is still laughing and never asking for someone’s advice
Day by day it got harder
To ignore the fact that my butterflies were dying
I didn’t want friendship
I didn’t want a bunch of skeletal wings and dead aerial beauties
It got harder
Daily
He shouted
And ignored
And forgave me for things he’d done
I wanted to be better for him
I didn’t want to talk to him
I wanted to break up with him the third time
Severing a link we’d had too many times
I broke up with trust and wanted to break up with love altogether
It came out in a flurry
A week where I couldn’t control the sarcastic thoughts
“Are you saying that you think our friendship should end?”
I don’t know what his notifications sound like on his phone
But sometimes he laughs
Says the reply made him cry himself to sleep
And I imagine a ping at my response
“i’m saying i think it would be better for me if it did”
I’ve never been good at using capital letters
But that scream ended some kind of sound I’d been holding in too long
I may as well have turned caps lock on
I loved a persistent boy
And a charmer
Who never wanted to give me up
But it was a break up
And there were no drunken hookups
I laughed at his jokes
I made polite conversation
Sometimes
I still hear his screaming in the back of my mind
Across a cafeteria
About every name I was for ruining his
It was confusion
It was ecstasy
It was everything he’d said before fitting back into place
It was tears
But he doesn’t need to know that part
I broke up with him because I wanted to wake my butterflies up
And I could not do that with an abusive best friend
New girls and boys tell me they love me
And I suppose I’m just confused
Because he never treated me the way a friend should
If he ever reads this
Hears me perform it in a passing coffee shop
I want him to know I love him
More than I’ll ever be comfortable admitting
There’s a hurt to it
A breaking note in every song
That remembers
There’s a love for him that remembers jokes and late nights talking and a dare devil
And sometimes
I want our break up to just be a break from the relationship
But when I hear him scream
I want him to know
I cried because his butterflies had died too
Not because I was scared
But because I thought I would be the one to bring them back to life
wow this one is emotional tm how about i yankee doodle don’t
Cynthia Montano Sep 2018
Why can’t you completely accept yourself as you are? What is stopping you from loving yourself? I feel as though it’s hard for someone to completely accept their self as they are because they’re use to being told how they should look, being on social media, and looking at images of certain people. What is stopping someone from loving their self is when they point out the things they don’t like about themselves, and can’t seem to take their mind completely off of it. Though, at the end of the day I feel that you shouldn’t be beautiful for anybody else but yourself.
“Why can’t you completely accept yourself as you are?” There were people of all ages that would find it better to wear makeup and get plastic surgery, but there is a disagreement that it shouldn’t be needed to make someone feel better about themselves because even if they decide to make those changes, their problems won’t because they’ll always be there. There was plenty of deep research on reasons why plastic surgery was good, why it was bad, reasons why makeup was good, and why it was bad. Though, we are leaning more towards why it is bad because we are focused on why can’t others completely accept themselves as they are without relying on plastic surgery and makeup.
I came across this website that spoke about reasons why women would get plastic surgery. “Some want to look younger”(WebMD) it’s very true that most girls and women want to look younger because when we all start to get old. We feel as though there is no hope in finding someone for ourselves, when in fact there is someone out there for us. It has to be the person that is the most accepting of you. Another statement was “Cosmetic surgery won’t change your life. It won’t solve personal problems or make you look like someone else,”(WebMD). It’s very true that it won’t solve your problems because others will still view you the same way because it doesn’t matter how you look. It’s the personality that sticks out the most. Though, it is very silly to believe that personality actually matters, it’s true because sometimes looks don’t last or change as much as a person’s personality.
There was a website that spoke about the issues and finances of plastic surgery and in the article it states that, ”Many people struggle with confidence issues because of their  appearance,”(Occupy theory). Many people can’t completely accept themselves as they are so they start to lack confidence, compare themselves to others, put themselves down, and they don’t believe that they are actually as beautiful as people tell them they are. Another statement that was made was, “Plastic surgery is one of the highest costs for surgery there is,”(Occupy theory). There shouldn’t be any reason why women should waste their money on getting plastic surgery because it just isn’t worth it especially if it’ll all be for the wrong reasons.
There were reasons why women would wear makeup, and what stuck out the most is when it stated, “It’s a way to be expressive,”(Mathews 4). It’s very true that most girls and women want to be more expressive with the type of makeup that they wear because it shows a different but creative side to them. Another statement that stuck out the most is when it stated, “Do not wear it because you think you’re at an age where it’s necessary to start wearing it. Wear it because you want to,” (Mathews 4). Everything that a person does in their life is because they want to do it when it is right for them, not when someone tell them when to start wearing it.
There were pros and cons of make up and in the article it stated, “wearing makeup everyday can cause serious skin problems,”(Warjri 4). No girl should really feel the need to wear makeup everyday because they need to let their skin breathe because there isn’t a problem with just being natural. It’s better to start embracing your skin and being completely natural instead of being afraid. Another statement that was being made was, “A layer of makeup on the skin clogs the pores and prevents skin from breathing,”(Warjri 4). Wondering why you still get pimples? Well, wearing makeup everyday is what is causing that to happen. So, trying to wear makeup trying to cover up the pimples isn’t going to solve much.
A book called, “The Gifts of Imperfection”, connects in some way to my why question which is why it stuck out a lot. As I was reading the book, the part that stuck out is when it stated, “The better we are at accepting ourselves and others, the more compassionate we become. Well, it’s difficult to accept people when they are hurting us or taking advantage of us or walking all over us,”(Brown pg 17). It’s important to accept ourselves and others as they are because in reality nobody is perfect. That’s why no girl or women should be obligated to wear makeup just so they can be seen as “beautiful” by other people. Another statement that stuck out the most to me was, “What does it take to live and love from a place of worthiness? How do we embrace imperfection? How do we cultivate what we need and let go of the things that are holding us back? The answers to all of these questions are courage, compassion, and connection—the tools we need to work our way through our journey,”(Brown pg 1). This stuck out the most to me because compassion and connection are very important and that’s what should matter the most. Not how you look.
The solution is that everyone should test themselves and try their best to last at least a few weeks without using products to make themselves feel “beautiful” or to make themselves feel better, and they’ll start to realize that it’s better getting up in the morning not having to worry about putting certain things on to make them feel better about themselves.
This was something I wrote for my English class in college that I was very passionate about and cared for. Don't be afraid to disagree or agree with what I've written or give feed back. It would be much appreciated. <3

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