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Kristi Udell Jan 2013
his voice echoes continuously through my mind
repeating those same fluid words
like ripples on the surface of an endless pool of water
again and again.
That same photographic memory
of four beautiful seconds
filled with brilliance and easy laughter
is in high definition
playing on an endless loop.
It tears away every outside thought,
accelerating and building in a crescendo
driving out the rest of the world.

his gaze sweeps over me
in its path around the room
and evanescent as it is,
it causes my heart to flutter,
threatening to fly away

I'm left with an image branded on my mind
of eyes the color of antique coke bottles
Those kind eyes
begin to take on a menacing edge
in my memory
piercing deep into me and allowing
intense insecurity and admiration to flood in
as i recall the treasures behind them

Like most artists, he has no clue
that he's an incredible writer
but, as the days pass by in class
we start to let him in on the secret
yet, he still refuses to accept it

his sweet, shy smile
always talks down his brilliance,
clouding his depth
like he almost fears his own words
That expression of near embarrassment
when people enjoy his work,
mixed with the thought that he's so incredible
tears me up
and i strive to measure up
while he simply shrugs it off,
almost unaware of his excellence
like he's staring into a ***** mirror

I find myself thinking about it
in bed at night
when the rest of my anxieties
team up to press me under the day
in a deep, wildly-colored sleep

When the morning finds me
and the sun pulls me back to Earth
I stretch out my arms and
draw in the fresh scent of the new day
but as i fall into my usual routine,
the memories and insecurities and inferiorities
creep up to the surface of my thoughts
and I wonder if I'll ever move past this stage,
listening and admiring from afar

Suddenly an idea strikes me
and i press my pen to my paper
using his medium
to release what I've held in so long
this was submitted for a portfolio in my creative writing class, where i read it aloud. the entire class was required to give feedback and the subject was in the class. i was required to explain the inspiration before reading it, so he knew it was about him. :D
the black rose May 2019
if theres one thing thats real,
its that true love can heal
& reveal all you've locked up inside
& concealed.
to fall into arms that dismiss insecurities & inferiorities;
re-shifting priorities.
renewing hearts & souls,
taking on the roles of mystic healers,
anti-depressant dealers.
a change in demeanor,
when you feel her.
its like the pieces scattered
piece themselves together.
& nothing even matters,
for a moment or forever.
-
all that you need in this life of sin;
to find a love to take you deep within.
love.
Yenson Mar 2019
All I have to do

is look back and smile
I am not a thief, never stolen from anyone
never so damaged, criminal and undignified
rendered disgraceful enough to burgle my neighbour
a white in a whiteland without the adequacy to survive
due to wasted opportunities, lacking intelligence and drive
becoming a drunk with a hedonistic style while others make hay

All I have to do

is see the truth and smile
I made good use of my opportunities
used my mind and built enough to uphold my self-respect
never stole or misappropriate or wasted myself in a drunken haze
walk a straight path and paid my dues, worked hard and progressed
treated others as I would expect others to treat me fairly and on merit
no shame or guilt on me for I wronged no one and did no borrowing

All I have to do

is watch as envy and hate burn
from those with inadequate lives and feelings of inferiorities
weak pathetic losers whose shame and disgrace turns them toxic
consumed by the fire of envy and jealousy, in dire pain of insecurity
self-loathing turns them into maniacs, hating all that stands for good
mad with hot rage all their passions becomes to destroy and damage
to spread their miseries, project their pain, share their frustrations

All I have to do

is pray for their broken lives and spirits
in me they see the benefit of able education and good breeding
reminding them of their under-development, pettiness and ignorance
my strength and fortitude challenges them and flames their irrationalities
and without the balance and consciousness of guided maturity
they can only be what they are, mindless yobbos, hooligans and thugs
hate mobs baying and crying, immature ignorants and cheap bullies, a brainless rabble, toxic maladjusted cowards.
HATE- it starts small, they spread lies and distortion, that blackman is loaded and stopping us from eating, that muslim is wearing a hijab, that asian has too many shops, that Polish is taking our jobs, they spread their hate, corrupt others and before you know it we have New Zealand.
Better woke and see
Megan Sherman Aug 2017
I sing for the rebellion of Hearts,
Which the Earth's renewal duly starts,
Devoted, righteous, to equality,
A virtue gold, its magnanimity,
Sure outweighs the tyranny of lies,
Of pauper's plague, inferiorities,
A joyful revolution of the mass,
Is hungered for by this sweet, scribing lass.

— The End —