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I saw the familiar
rose-flush dust
shoot from my
fingertips,

the day
I finally
decided
to snap out of it.

I had forgotten what lived inside me.

I snapped again
at the
worrywart hut
I'd created
for myself
to live in.

And again, once more
for all time
gone
to my mind's

incessant banter
and going-on's
with
the
flirty,
too flirty,
doubting Adonnis.

The fog was heavy,

in its resilience against my
needs
to get it right,

overtaking me in confusion,
making me forget

the reality
that lay beyond it.

Its grip was choking,

sending me reeling
through a
soul-tainting realm

I hated
I knew so well,

grasping

for anything
to hold on to,

anything that
looked
like

Life.

So,

with the moon
tonight,
I weep

for the many suns
sacrificed
to
Unbelief

and
the parts of me
permitted to be
plagued
by

poison
and
malpurpose.

Though,
with the same tears,
I will thank my God
that I can at least
see
what lies
within me

and again, once more
while the moon is still bright

for the gift to feel
remorse.
M Seifert M Mar 2013
we **** in towers

he missed the bus by hours

clean out the garbage pail with high pressure hoses
I want to stick my nose in it and pledge allegiance to its cleanliness

he feels the lows
the lower it goes
god only knows
this world is just for show

the real experience is in the back
we're keeping up appearances and paying taxes

"please be quiet and refrain from smoking
this is the first and last time I'll inform you that I'm only joking"

snip the locks
pour the contents
subdivide the rations according to your favorite fetish

better keep this to ourselves...
Black Mar 2014
**** a sociology class, **** a community college.
**** all this ******* that they feed me called knowledge.
**** Everything even myself twice.
**** me real good i bet itll feel kinda nice
Dre G Nov 2012
i want my life to open
i want my life to shut like a tired
ocean wave
i want to sleep and eat and
die, i want to die
and be reborn and
never have to look at any of this.

i want to drop this burden

i want to cry and cry and
i want someone
anyone
to understand this.
i want to feel a fire
i want to run outside and escape
escape     escape     escape
the word sounds like it wears
expensive cufflinks from a
boutique in downtown boston.

i want to ***** all over boston

i want to ***** all over myself
and then lick it back up,
lap it in, feel the chunks slide
softly down my pharynx.
Chanel McCartney Feb 2012
It all kinda seemed like yesterday that I began to unpack my car full of my things and headed in Vic Hall for the first time...
- And it all felt like yesterday when Sara was attacked by the creepy purple people in kilts and chains...
- And it was like yesterday when we met Simon and Dana and offered them a fridge...
- And it seems like yesterday when I was covered head to toe in peat moss and shaving cream in navy blue coveralls...
- And it was yesterday when we all took our first jump in the Lake off the pier
- And I could have sworn that it was yesterday when I went to my first class scared stiff just to find out that my profs were the coolest people..
- And it feels like yesterday that I met Margaret for the first time, and she thought I lived on her floor which I didn't...
- And yesterday I almost failed my first assignment and felt the tears rolling down my face, worried that I wasn't going to pass..
- And I will swear that it was Homecoming yesterday...
- And it was soo definately yesterday that Mariah, Sara and I conquered the BEHEMOTH!!!! Wonderland!
- And it definately was yesterday when Drama 100 went on their roadtrip to Gannanoque :P
- And it could have been yesterday when we went out for our first of many fire alarms in Vic...
- And it might have been yesterday when I realised that my calender is my new best friend..
- And it feels much like yesterday when my cousins came to see me and show me the best places in K-town...
- And it all went down yesterday that I wrote my first midterm...
- And alas it was yesterday that I found a boy and left him..
- And it must have been yesterday that I found out how much talent was in Drama 100's fall presentations...(especially Lab F... :P)
- And it feels just like yesterday that QMT astounded me with Jekyll and Hyde..
- And it could have been yesterday that I joined the Hip Hop class..
- And, of course, yesterday I helped organise Ale with the Profs for English DSC..
- And, yes, it was yesterday the I voted for AMS president...
- And then there was yesterday when I went to my first Hillel Dinner and loved it..
- And it was most definately yesterday when I discovered my hatred for chemistry...
- And yesterday, I went out for my room mates birthday...
- And then, yesterday, I figured out how much I love Indigo books... and Starbucks coffee..
- And yesterday I found out that people actually live in Stauffer Library.. sleep on couches...
- And it really was yesterday that I found out I was going to be a Gael and met Chris Mitchell aka our OC!! and my future Gael FAM!!!!
- And it was yesterday that I joined the costume crew for Man of la Mancha and learned how to use a sewing machine... sorry Julia :P
- And then yesterday, I went to see Ted in Anne Frank.. he was really great!
- And yesterday, I found out that Drama 100 was way more talented in their Winter Presentations...
- And it seems like yesterday that it was my last day of classes... but somehow I still had projects due..
- And it was sooo yesterday that I finished my last essay of the year...
- And it feels soo much like yesterday when I met to whole cast and crew and went to the somewhat and the gala night and closing night (the strike and cast party)!!! You guys are fantastic..
- And yesterday I began my first of many finals...
- And then yesterday I said goodbye to my lucky friends who finished before me and going home for the summer...


But it was today, as I was packing my things and talking to my parents, that they asked,"How does it feel to be finished your first of four years of university?" and I said, "It all seemed like yesterday."
Terry Collett May 2012
It was mid term break
from school and she met you
at the back of your house

down by the small pond
you both called the pool
where you could sit

and watch ducks swim
and birds sing
in nearby bushes

and she said
I’ve just read about some nuns
who wear clothing

when they bath
so that God
can’t see them naked

a magpie flew by
and you noticed
how difficult it was

to tell
its wing from tail
and you said

Would God be interested
in seeing naked nuns?
she gazed over

at the trees
on the other side
of the pool

her blue eyes
catching sunlight
Well they obviously thought so

she said
and she lay back
on the grassy bank

and you lay beside her
and she put out a hand
and her fingers

touched yours
and you lifted up
her hand and kissed it

and it tasted of soap
as if you’d dived
into her bathwater

and swam
between her thighs
How sweet you are

she said as you let
her hand go
and she held it

and looked at it
then a blackbird
swooped across the pool

noisily and broke
the momentarily magic
and she said laughing

You don’t know
where my hand
may have been

and you taking in
the sunlight dancing
in her big blue eyes

Maybe not
you replied
not telling her

what
in your dream
you’d seen.
SJ Sullivan Nov 2016
A wind mill sliced through the air in complete silence.
Energy travels near, but won't travel far, land locking itself to what it already knows.
Screaming. Bright. Rigid. Slime. With a hint of basil.
Just reach out and taste it, as the warmth of it's rotations engulfs you.
Maxwell Edison is stuck in the Pentagon and no one is going to save him.
I can't hear you over the sound of the wind mills.
But I don't need to hear your voice to listen to you anymore.
"It's been a minute." You said, to me with the breeze messing up your tawny hair.
You dip but I never would dive, because I'm afraid of breaking my neck.
My questions remain unanswered. Must we know our names today?

The reigning king of time and space
showed me that I can make the clock tick faster and the days move slower.
So I'd spend my nights flying through the mesosphere looking for lost breaths.
Oh, joy joy, he would say when watching trails of smoke and cloud accumulate in the sky.
I will never stop this ride. It will never end and I will never come back down to earth.

My ever spinning song for you is stuck on repeat. I will end the night and the day to create the space of nothing where we have been all along.
"Laissez les bons temps roulez"
exclaimed the taxi cab meter, hiking up prices that made our wallets weep.

No one is going to save you.
"Twenty Little Poetry Projects" https://artofcompost.wordpress.com/2014/10/24/exercise-20-little-poetry-projects/

Written as a midterm in Adv. Creative Writing: Poetry
Dear Science and Math,

I pray to you because you are what I believe in. Today is the midterm elections for 2018, and boy are we in a mess. Evolution, I would like to apologize that we have devolved as a society to allow our government to function as a really terrible sitcom. Economics and Statistics, I feel your heavy gaze as we still have 2 more years before we hopefully take the bankrupt millionaire out of office. Every day we live under a system whose poster child mocks its citizens and strips the majority of their rights. Their rights to Medical Care, a healthy and functioning Environment, and a Financial System which can support the majority, not just the top 1%.

Today I did my part. I practiced my right . . . no my privilege to vote. Too many people chose not to vote. I didn't vote for the last 6 year because I felt I was uneducated in the topic. I felt I was flying blind, something I could have taken 15 minutes to change. If I were a citizen of Georgia I would have lost this privilege, because of 5 years of voting inactivity. If I were of Hispanic descent I would most likely have had to jump through excessive hoops because of a hyphenated last name. There are so many people who don't want to vote because they fear jury duty, or they don't want to wait in line, or they don't want to make time to vote, or they are just plain convinced the system is rigged and their opinion doesn't matter. Let me tell you something, your ballot only "doesn't matter" if you don't hand one in. In fact, it is probably working against the team you would have voted for.

I am a woman, which mean only in the past 100 years was my second X chromosome "granted" this privilege. There are still grandparents alive today who remember when, specifically, black people could not vote. There are also plenty of other cases of this "right" being restricted from huge groups of people because of, in reality, what makes them unique.

So, I sit here today Science an Math, praying to you that my little corner of the United States may become a better place for ALL of its inhabitants.

Please let the scales tip in the favor of justice.
Anais Vionet Mar 2022
So many, too many students had COVID two weeks ago. My parents were supposed to come for a visit, and midterms were on the horizon - so I decided to go ahead and get covid - to get it over with. I’ve been around a dozen people who later that day tested positive, but somehow I’ve never come down with it myself.

Peter caught it and was isolated in his suite (two of his suitemates had it). I went to see him, surreptitiously hoping he’d pass it on, but Lisa (the traitor) texted him and he Lysoled his entire suite and wouldn’t let me in - saying exposing me went against his “moral code.” rolling eyes

Now midterm season is on us and a lot of people I know are in crisis. That happens a lot in test times. This place is so cutthroat and competitive. You can get so deep in your own head that it becomes a ***** fish bowl of anxiety. The delightful cocktail of pandemic, WWIII and midterm stress gel, in some minds, to form a sweet, unhinging mix.

My major tests are over (good for me, yay for me!) but I’m not parking my study playlist just yet. I have a couple of papers due. While those don’t stress me like tests, they’ll keep me busy, like everyone else - there’s always a feeling of being behind it and frantically busy here.

We were trying to plan an actual, REAL spring break - that didn’t involve 11 hour layovers and 5 hour bus rides. Something NOT held in a parent’s apartment - someplace adult and private.

Then my Grandmère offered us an all-expenses-paid trip to Paris, saying I could bring three friends and stay at the Hotel de Crillon. A week in Paris with Lisa, Leong and Anna sounds delicious - of course, I told them how positively uncouth it would be to refuse -  we’ll see.
BLT word of the day challenge: Uncouth: "being rude, impolite or socially unacceptable."
JJ Hutton Jul 2010
the markerboard on the fridge read:
sleep tonight.

the only thing i promised myself i'd do.
the day went something like this:

i woke up thirty minutes late,
i made do with only washing my hair,
ate an apple, yogurt, drank a cup,
****** myself to clear my head,
ignored the neighbor as i stepped out the door.

went to a dead-end, data-entry job,
where the girls aren't pretty, nobody is funny,
because everybody is a CPA and i'm not pleasant because i
don't give a good ******* about the
world of finance.

the highlight of the workday (as it is everyday),
was the break room chatter during lunch.

the earth-shattering conversations
revolved around:
how good the nutrisystem desserts taste,
how there was low voter-turnout in the midterm,
and how that one girl is a lesbian
.

i got off work,
ate a sandwich, a banana,
put on sweatpants and a thrift store t-shirt.
i wrapped some fitness contraption around
my belly, whose sole purpose is to make
my abdomen sweat profusely.

no pretty girls at the fitness center.

i got back to my apartment.
wrote some phony poetry full
of half-baked sentiment
for no worthwhile reason.

i smoked.
i watched a foreign film, but couldn't find my glasses.
meaning: i have no ******* clue what the plot was about.

i went to the gas station.
made small talk with the long haired indian man.
i bought two smirnoff 40s.
something about smirnoff gives me really cohesive dreams.

my roommate tried to give me a lecture.
i told him christ was a myth.
a simple summation of earlier religious figures.
slammed the door,
lit some incense called "*****".

i fell asleep, woke up an hour later in a fright.
turned on the fan,
lit some more "*****",
closed my eyes,
and dreamt a complex novel,
containing:
me missing church,
my mom calling me,
getting lost in canada,
finding my way back to
my hometown only to find
two dudes with heavy machine guns
killing everyone in the cozy, local shops,
then somehow i got a line in a movie
directed by none other than keanu reeves
.

at least i finally got some sleep.
Copyright 2010 by Joshua J. Hutton
A Jan 2016
I strain my tired eyes to look upon my work
I sacrifice a smile to the triumph I have made
I laugh in the face of the sun, because I have won
Through my trials I have succeeded
I have proven myself the better
Now I can shut an I, now I can...rest
b e mccomb Jul 2016
The whole thing smells like chlorine, which is extremely unsettling because chlorine always tastes green and a lot like hereditary paranoia. These pants were only two washes  removed from brand new, and now there's a slit in the knee, a slit as precise as the shape my eyes make when I'm suspicious of wanderlusting newcomers who moonlight in my former prison cell.  And I'm unsure if I should call it like I'd like it to be and say the **** things were defective or if I should investigate further as to where I placed my legs while hacking bits of plastic.

I'm TIRED of hacking at bits of plastic. I daresay if things start looking up, I could get there. I'm desperate, while this pumpkin-leaf hole grows in my chest, I'm realizing I'll never get to Lancaster at this rate. Sure, sure, I'm obsessed. I also have a blonde tail hanging from a tack on my shelf and a lot of cards tacked to my wall. They either resemble a quilt, a window or a complete mess.

I'm relying on plastic cups and the Internet to continuously foster this false sense of belonging. And I don't want to shatter it, but I'm terrified by the threat of a midterm and I feel trapped by my own sky. I mean, have you SEEN the prices for quaint bed and breakfasts? But the sad truth is, I would be haunted by insurmountable guilt at leaving her behind. The cash flow isn't flowing, either. I'm thinking I'll have to forget about it and sit at my shiny laptop on an empty desk, staring at the cottage cheese ceiling and wondering if God is looking back.
Copyright 9/12/15 by B. E. McComb
Cathy B Nov 2010
Taking tests and exams is fun,
I'd rather just be done.
With midterm break finally here,
finish class, have a beer.
ARR Feb 2011
I won't tell you I love you when I don’t.
I won't tell you I miss you when I don’t.
I will tell you I take the long way to class
in  a Chicago January
in the snow
on foot
just to finish dissecting Teenage Dream because you said that song reminds you of me
I will tell you I devote time out of my day solely to thinking about you  heart heavily.
Because I am always thinking about you, fair warning.
And if I let myself indulge a week's worth of thinking of you in one minute,
maybe I can study some for my midterm in the morning.

I won't tell you I love you when I don’t.
I won't tell you I miss you when I don’t.
In those blindsiding instances of stark realization,
when I get a knee **** reaction putting on my scarf that still smells like fruit passion
because I made you wear it on the El platform to fend off a wind that round every corner could bend,
I will take out my blackberry, tear off my gloves, and tempt frost bite on the tips of my fingers
to send you a text that reads “I miss you.”

I won't tell you I love you when I don't.
I won't tell you I miss you when I don't.
Baby, I need not be insincere, I am not in love. Yet.
And it’s not you, and it’s not me. It is everyone else here.
Everyone else beating my brain in with cosmic signs
of Matt and Kim playing on the radio when they never play Matt and Kim on the radio.
Every poet pleading with me personally will flip their pages and I will be deemed defenseless against all odds.
I will tell you I love you, and I will mean it so fiercely
my chest will cave in upon itself thumping like a cartoon and creating a gooey mess of pink hearts.
Because you heart pink hearts.

I won't tell you I love you when I don’t.
I won't tell you I miss you when I don’t.
I will tell you embedded in the endless, elusive scenes of whimsy that make up my insides,
that song by The Darkness will play over every loudspeaker in the Student Center
because you paused,
you looked at me,
and you said “I love you. I really love you.”
it's always some kind of perfection outside
(the perfect storm,
the perfect blue,
the perfect colour leaves,
the perfect temperature)

and yet
it's midterm season
I always wish I could spend more time outside in October. I guess we always want what we can't have.
Ann M Johnson Jan 2015
Trying to recover from the Flu
There is so much yet that I have to do
I have midterm tests coming up
Doctor ordered rest
Feeling some stress
My apartment's becoming a mess
Trying to do my best
In my yearning to become a good learner
Unfortunately poetry has taken a back burner
Anais Vionet Apr 2022
Lisa was carefully pulling a strand of cotton candy off a paper-coned “barbe à papa” - winding it around her finger while absentmindedly gazing at a carousel. She seemed hypnotized by its white horses, trimmed in gold, with their brassy red and blond manes, as they hopped, like slow-motion rabbits, in circles beneath wreaths and garlands of colored lights.

My watch jiggled me awake, mid-dream. I was bemused. It took me a moment to orient myself. I groggily pushed the sheets off and performed a big stretch. It's Monday morning, I think. “Alexa, what’s today?” I ask, to be sure. “It’s Monday, April 25th,” she says.

A beautiful, if cloudy spring morning was going to bloom on the other side of my jacobian glass windows - any minute now. At least according to my weather app. “Alexa, good morning,” I say, to start my rattling, sputtering, steampunk sounding coffee maker.

College time is warped, measured more in deadlines than minutes. There’s no plan other than your class or test schedule and let me refresh you on the rules – there are no rules, I’m free to do whatever I want. I actually chuckle at that thought.

College is transformative but there’s a hoary sameness to it. Read, discuss, review and test - wash, rinse and repeat. This morning is reserved for test review. I have a final this morning - well, sort of.

Some classes have a quintet of tests instead of a big midterm and nerve-racking final. It smooths out the stress, but you still have an almost forensic exploration of ideas, and you want the answers queued-up, ready for easy access.

I quickly washed and donned my workout-wear. A glance at my watch told me I was right on time. I’d loaded my shoulder bag last night, with my book, highlighters, my phone, Air-Pods and a water bottle. I grab it as I head out. I’ll do my review on the treadmill.

Anna opens her door just as I do mine - perfect. We’re off to the gym.
BLT Marriam Webster word of the day challenge: Hoary: "so familiar as to be dull"
Alyssa Nov 2015
I am not
    tall
not jack and the
giant growth spurt,
been small bean
tiny roots my
whole life.
I am
adult child
tippy toes to kiss
those who turn
their cheek every time.
I am not
sunny enough for
anyone to live off me.
I am
9:30 pm
blacked out drunk
photo in front of
my universities chapel
because i never remember
when i find god
or if i ever
really did.
i am
that last bit of
cough syrup you saved
for the day you
got better,
the autosave
on google drive
before your laptop ***** you
and crashes in the middle
of your midterm paper.
I try my hardest
to make you better,
keep you intact,
but i can’t change
why you needed me
in the first place.
I am not
made right,
cookie crumbles
instead of melt in your
mouth
i am hard
to swallow.
151 christening
the back of my throat
while you whimper
after one shot of
strawberry lemonade svedka.
That’s sangria to me, that’s
water
to me.
I promise you
I will teach you how
to chug,
how to make wince
look like wink
look like smooth
waterfall thunder
crashing into gut
as long as you
are willing to open throat.
I am not
batten-down-the-hatches
outdoor basement lock
i am
panic room
all the food and drink
you need in me
i am plentiful
i am enough
sometimes
i am too much
i am the
over drinker the
too ****** the
too much fight
too much love
not enough balance
i am
clumsy
not enough equilibrium
between my ears
maybe that’s why i am
queen of miscommunication
queen of misunderstandings
queen of “can you
say that again? i
didn’t quite hear you.
I am drowning
through waves of
something that looks a lot
like water but it
burns good enough to
quench”
I am
******* disguised as
train wreck
i needed an excuse
to be in the hospital
just to check out
of life for a few days,
lay in bed for a few days
feel too small
to go to work for a few days
because i am
tired of having to act big
seem tall
when i am
small bean
tiny roots
have been my whole life.
But i am
starting somewhere
i am growing
going somewhere
i am
just waiting for
the next rainfall
to wash away these
pesticides.
I am waiting
for the day i become
balanced and
i can stand up without
bumping into some
other clumsy part of me,
i can look at her
and ask her why she’s still
here because
i am
here now.
i am
plentiful
I am
enough.
regina Dec 2016
He went from stone to telling me he loves me in his sleep
And I couldn't look into his eyes until recently because it meant that I had to accept my own mortality
Not because he's going to **** me
But because I'll never truly know what's on the other side
They're blue and that's all I know and it keeps me starving and satisfied and scared and safe
He's my safe space. The kind that ****** off our baby boomer parents
He'll call you by your preferred pronouns. He'll celebrate your womanhood. He is the painting session that's offered instead of the midterm exam
My only worry with him is that my hair is frizzy and my lipstick is faded
I don't even worry about his roommate hating me when I visit because of our sighing and the bed squeaking
I'm at a place in my life where I wonder how high I can go at this point but if he is my anchor, the view is just fine
If he is my anchor, I'm not drowning at all
If he is my anchor, he'll lift me higher because he likes that I'm tall
Anais Vionet Mar 2022
It’s a Monday. Capitalism and school have given Mondays a bad rap and we need to take it back. That would require a movement of some sort, too much, I suppose, with a WAR on.

I have the jitters. This morning was, well, Monday and I had a midterm - sort of. So it would’ve been irresponsible for me to take the time to straighten my room - I’m nothing if not responsible. But Peter’s here. It’s his first glimpse of my room and it’s a mess.
“There’s an underlying order” I assure him.
“There always is,” says mr. physics.

Anna had taken a (photo) burst of us - the modern equivalent of those childhood, cartoon flicker-books - to celebrate his first visit to our immaculate suite. Now she’s screen-sharing them on the huge common room TV. “You’re cute,” He says.
“Hurray for me, hooray for that,” I reply, “But I was thinking YOU’RE cute,” I say as I snuggle closer to him on the couch.
“We all love the sound of compliments slapping together,” Leong says, sarcastically.
“Find a communist,” I suggested to Leong, “they all study philosophy, I think.”
“You come into MY house..,” Leong begins.
“You come into MY house..,” I responded.
“You come into MY house..,” Anna says from the kitchen.
“You come into MY house..,” Sophy yells from her room. This could go on all night.

“The four reactions,” Peter says.
“He’s starting to talk physics again!” Anna says, narrowing her eyes on him, like a cat catching sight of a squirrel. Leong, yawns excessively, “Ugh! Make him stop,”
“All the forces that we experience every day..,” Peter begins. At first, I moaned as if I’d been told I was about to be waterboarded. Then I take action, rolling over and climbing on top of him, messing his hair and beginning to tickle him, “There must have be an off switch somewhere!” I exclaim.

Now everyone’s screaming and laughing, “Ok, Ok, I give up.” he says, then he pins my arms to my sides at my elbows - but before he can swing me off of him, I lean in and plant a sloppy wet lick on the side of his face. “H-Hey!” he says, wincing like someone avoiding a wild puppy. He was all askew by the time he swung me off onto the couch and fixed me with a concentration that suggested that nothing else mattered. Time seemed to stop and that moment was the first time I thought about kissing him.

Over his left shoulder Anna vibe checks me by making a moony love-face  - throwing in several puckery kisses. I’ve never seen myself in action, but a sharp, stinging sense of recognition told me that her impersonation was more accurate than not - and I snapped out of it. “What are we doing for dinner?” I asked, and the tension broke.
BLT word of the day challenge: askew: "out of line" or "not straight."
Ann M Johnson Dec 2015
I have trouble sleeping
my CPAP machine starting squeaking
like a mouse is in my bed
So I quickly yanked the mask off my head
The cat knocked something over
the contents spilling the contents on the floor
Too late to vacuum up the carpeted floor
Midterm week for school tests and
big paper to write
I need more sleep to think more clearly
The highlight of my day was reading
and replying to messages that you
my dear Hello Poetry friends have written
I bid you adieu for now and wish you
sweet dreams and hope for them too
Hannah Jun 2016
Happiness comes slowly
weaving its way through the butterflies in your stomach
as you step into the hall, seeing
all the open doors
wondering which to knock on, who to know.

Then it’s diagonal crossing
and shaking fish. It’s a group picture that still hangs in your best friend’s room to remind you of how much you can age in a year.

Suddenly it’s the ballet and lingering looks. It’s drunk astronomy videos, and tea with second intentions. It’s well developed boys with delicate minds, who are more hurt by misthrown words. (I’m sorry, still. Those months of silence did a number on me too.)

It’s red lips and falling leaves. It’s pulling yourself together out of the pieces spread around campus, and creating one rule: don’t **** DSig boys.

Then it’s floorcest, but this time more wholesome. It’s meeting the man who’s sure to be your best-man at your wedding, and wondering how you could be so similar, could love someone so much. It’s being scared that people aren’t puzzle pieces and losing one to gain another is never the same. But then realizing that maybe the original piece didn’t fit that well to begin with.

It’s a long night at the hospital, because family is family even if you never share secrets. Because sometimes cheez-it crumbs can heal souls.

Then it’s snowstorms, and gossip nights. It’s living with your best friends 24/7 and picking each one up as they threaten to unravel. It’s chugging earl gray and crying over gluten free brownies. It’s getting used to a pseudo-something only to have the ground shift under your feet––again. And then it’s growth. It’s loving other people enough to know when you’re wrong, when to let go.

Finally it’s peace, and midterm cramming. It’s shedding layers of skin and coats so the sun can finally scab over your innocence. It’s making the exodus from your room to hole up in a coffee shop and write, because the school listens now. It’s knowing that so long as you know how to cover a hickey, you’ll never really lose your status as mom.

It’s loving. Happiness is loving. Every stolen moment and stupid, idiotic escapade; every too big personality surrounded by too small quarters.
It is holding fast to the spirit of youth, letting years to come do what they may with the tattooed six on your heart.
To my freshman year, and the incredible people I had the honor of knowing.
Sara Long Oct 2015
When he was in second grade
He picked up one piece of paper.
And on it he drew a dinosaur
With a stubby green crayon.
And he handed it to his nanny
Who smiled and hung it
In a frame in his room
Where it protected his bed.
And just about every Sunday,
His dad took some paper
And creased its sides
With his sharp nail
Until it was a plane
That soared over their heads
And gleeful smiles.
And his father promised him
That every Sunday
They could fly their planes
In the front yard.

When he was in high school
He picked up one piece of paper
And on it he wrote his midterm
The morning it was due.
And he handed it to his teacher
Who frowned and vandalized it
With red dots and lines,
Criticizing his work,
Just like she always did.
And his father rubbed his shoulder
As he cried about the stress
He told his son not to worry
And to keep trying his best.
Then he picked up the paper
And creased its sides
With his sharp nail
Until it was a plane
That soared above their heads
And his son’s tear filled smile.

When he was in college
He picked up one piece of paper.
And on it he signed his name
Swearing that his behavior would get better.
And he handed it to his professor
Who scolded him once more
Saying that if it continued
He was guaranteed to fail.
And when the news reached his father,
He screamed at his failure son,
Which he had been doing a lot of recently.
And his son yelled back
While his words collided with his dad’s.
Because the screaming continued,
But the listening had never started.
Then the boy crumpled the paper
And slammed it to the ground
So there would be no planes
To soar above their heads
And their identical scowls.

When he was an adult
He picked up one piece of paper.
And wrote a proposal to his boss
While he sat in his office.
And as he went to deliver it,
He heard a frantic voice announce
A tragedy in New York.
And the news made him stop
Right there in his tracks
while he dropped to his knees.
And the office panicked
For the sake of their own safety.
But he only heaved in sorrow
Knowing his poor father
Who he hadn’t spoken to in years
Was on that plane
That had soared above people’s heads
And their frightful shouts
And crashed into the tower.

When he left home on Sunday
He picked up one piece of paper.
And on it he scribbled down
A eulogy for his father.
And he drove past his old front yard
Where many years ago
His imagination used to fly
Along with his paper airplanes.
And he arrived at the funeral
Where he delivered his speech
While the water sprung from his eyes,
Forming artwork on his cheeks.
But before they lowered the casket
he took his tear stained eulogy
and creased its sides
with his sharp nail
until it was a plane
that would rest on his father’s chest
and soar within their spirits.
Kimmy-Nichole Jun 2011
I guess its final;
I am here,
In the same place
The every day
ways of the environments
Of lifes beautiful face-

on every drive
in every way
Its becoming familiar

Maybe a new start
With the Introduction to  
the patterns of the daily usuals

I think another year will be such a brave decision,
A simple leap of trust of responsibility
And realiability
A simple independence;
Proven to be another challenge;
as well as the the midterm
of finding who I am.
Christopher Mata Jul 2014
He walked away swaying without a care in the world

She was walking straight ahead with a dream in hand

He was a repeat offender
She was on the A honor roll... Again

But as he was fumbling for the keys
She was fixing her midterm paper

Newton once stated that for every action , there is an equal and opposite reaction

So for every bottled he emptied was another application she filled

Every law he broke
Was one she followed

So the beautiful synchronization is that as he was driving , so was she

That as she was making that turn on a green arrow , he was there to run the red light

But in that last symphony...
Tires screeched
Metal crunched
Glass shattered
Blood splattered
Acting as a lullaby to a life that just entered into eternal slumber
But...
He walked away swaying without a care in the world
Because in that moment demons were created and an angel was born

Her soul was cradled just like it was when it entered this world
and sometimes if youre listening closely, you can hear her wings fluttering in the wind as a sound of hope @ your time of need
Drinking and driving poem
Butch Decatoria May 2016
Midterm
Winter
Ample
Sweaters
                 Through our midterms, we now have winter
                 Globe's ample warming--must haves: sweaters.
Tyburn  -  A six line poem consisting of 2, 2, 2, 2, 9, 9 syllables.

The first four lines rhyme and are all descriptive words. The last two lines rhyme and incorporate the first, second, third, and fourth lines as the 5th through 8th syllables.
Failure:

It leaves a sour taste in my mouth, a ***** feeling on my hands, and bitter memories stained into my mind. I have failed more tests than I can count, more than I can remember. I have gotten bad grades, one after another, day after day. I have been on the verge of ruining my future, but gone ahead and failed another class anyway.

I have been the girl with grades as low as her age, I have been the girl you whisper about in the hallways as you walk past her: did you hear she failed because she didn’t even study

But who cares if I didn’t study, I would rather sit back and do nothing and fail an exam than dedicate all my time to studying information I will never understand, just to take a test where the teacher can tell me I didn’t study hard enough if I could still get such a low grade

I have seen my best friends spend an entire weekend pouring over their physics textbook, their math notes, their history study sheets, and then I have seen the crushed look on their faces when they still get a failing score. I have seen people try their hardest to do well and then get it thrown in their faces as the grade on the paper tells them it wasn’t enough

SO DO NOT TELL ME I NEED TO STUDY MORE, DO NOT TELL ME I NEED TO TRY MY BEST WHEN THE SCHOOL SYSTEM IS JUST GOING TO SAY MY BEST ISN’T GOING TO CUT IT. DO NOT TURN YOUR NOSE UP WHEN YOU HEAR I DIDN’T STUDY FOR MY MIDTERM BECAUSE WHAT YOU DIDN’T HEAR WAS ME CRYING MYSELF TO SLEEP BECAUSE I CAN’T BEAT THIS SYSTEM, I’M EITHER LAZY AND IRRESPONSIBLE OR JUST PLAIN STUPID, I’M STUCK IN THIS NEVER ENDING CYCLE AND I CAN’T WIN, I CAN’T PLEASE YOU, I CAN’T DO ANYTHING RIGHT, SO MAYBE NOW YOU UNDERSTAND WHY I’D RATHER DO NOTHING
Ken Pepiton Jul 2023
Vu. { as long as any story's told wrong}

- suffer not a novice to teach

No bet. Nothing wagered, no pledge to be paid,
no bet was made between the unspeakable name,

core processing access id-entity… we'll call Truth.
And time, if there were a wager, Truth be against Time.

- thus we develop a worth for attention.

The way life works super resiliently, bouncing back
after starry chaos leaves a constant possibility
for truths beyond our scale of instant relativity
to manifest as seems with none the wiser,

the sun could flick us from existance, and be
acting as naturally as all such suns act
after a while, maybe

seven minutes ago.
---
listening to me bellyache and moan,
woe is me I am good for nothing.

Hmmm. I could just die, but then, there
would be just cause to believe me selfish,
and selfish is something I try not to be, in fact.

Information flow, twists awry through held truths,
never taken apart to reset the spring.

Nietsche was wrong about a lot of things.
Knowing he had a voice he could
convince himself was otherwise,
he had a real raw idea of God.
That's good.
Not useless, mostly used up. Flame.

That's what the real old *** in me said.
Fretting naught,
letting go all wishery wasery,
growing old effortlessly,
be causing, as wishes are supposed,
sup-post,
same as prayers properly aimed, to
be collected to be
be answered, as information related
to pain in the brain or heart, or core
mental effort processing part, which
detects and destroys the infecting barb.
Just in time.
Release relief, unbelievable lies,
pile into icy dams, late spring
in truth
past all thorny issues,
life is not intentionally difficult,
ants - the super colony kind
run vast ecology balancing systems,
on auto pilot, pure intuitive duty drives.
On a global scale, spreading without war.

We can see we can be better rich than poor.
We can see we live on a wet ball spun
along a spiral in a spiral in a spiral, and so, on
and on and on, looping the grand loop, a little
farther along than last time,

our eyes have seen the glory, our children
can imagine thought speed, information passing

as time carries matters to gravitationally bound
points past which nothing is ever the same,

because you, cause me, to cause you to imagine
we share a plane conscious level,
as we stare across the heavens from JWST,

just adjusting reasonable focus, is it asking
too much? Asking to effect the healing
with truth that cannot be denied, and be truth
indeed…

Whatsoever, whensover, so today is fine,

infinitely fine, as a whole time bit, with us in it.

Who arranged the world's laws of nations,
?
not men in my general class, retired disabled
boys used in immoral warfare, and paid glory

and allowed to march in war winner parades,
even though, Wounded Knee and My Lai,

fester under America's Exceptional Blessing.

Agricultural superfluity, aided by machines,
and the modern incarnation of king control,
usurious
war debt, cost of plunder,
always need latest enemy detection tech.
- Confidential is above us all down here.

Who you gonna call to collect on reneged
deals, see the big picture, be visionary,
wars are lost for want of a nail, a nail
that woulda been seen missing, if the smith's
bills had been paid in time for precharge inspection.

Who allows evil to prosper,
who prospers from peace never made?

imagine you're the powerful and magnificent
leader of North Korea, or a Metro-mega Church.

You quote Lincoln, and agree with the great
promoters of idle time boredom prevention,
knowing you can fool some of the people,
all of the time. And some of the people
a predictable percentage of the time,

and all the people, after a while.  

Oakridge radiant Gospel,
"you listen too long
  you do eventually die."

- and thus it came to pass
- none found fusion, pfft.
Deep mindtimespace silence

Nonsense to any, therapy to me,
the effectual fervent prayer,

which is really
closer to need announcing, auto
awareness, missing pieces, up
ethos more or
pathos, up path of logos,
as winds winding times
recurrency circuits
up right
is not.
Down is not. Here is midway,
midterm… middle distance
**** sapien augmentedus
in the net spread
in the sight of radio beacons.
submicrowave accuracy,
acutron concept of counting
seconds worth of your attention

Practically stretched
past tensile strand strength

stretching to a C-note,
harmonica

calling all my musing friends,
come hang with me,
in my tree.

In the forest of humanity,
the ant intuitive interconnecting -umph
-- last stack, let patience prove possession --
---- Pa-airing Suckacessfull…
Yeah, blue tooth vestibular augments.
-- I can hear birds now.
Who is on war's side, if this were after
I made my case and closed it,
this is the future when we have
global access to once secret libraries.
5g- ****… radio directly individuated,
as once first accounts were coded, so
now, we are our comm device's user,
we filter using truths we used
and proved just so, we lived

asking truth to show itself in ways
a mortal who labored fifty years,
could be led to expect, jubilee,
boom,
I am free, and I am not uncomfortable,
U may read my mind and find news,
formed from used theories untwisted,

and stretched to the extent of one man's
heart fire, expanded with knowledge,
edified with activated agape, lief be,

take a second, what's such a bit of being
left alone, at second glance, become,

some kinda curious thing, clap trap.

****, all wishery is yours, it's time again,

to review the prayer/wish fullfillment section.

Did you, dear, oh, dear, what, what makes
dear the lessons life teaches for your attention,

no price, a quote, a song
"Come, all you who are thirsty,
come to the waters;
and you without money,
come, buy, and eat!
Come, buy wine and milk
without money and without cost!"

Isaiah 55, thriving on hope deferred,

refer again to the references,

decide yourself if you believe James I of England
was at any point a person you could work for?

My task is not to teach, unless my life proves
worth my continuing continuance, thinking

plinking, *** shots, clang… in the olden days,

when a family could live by a prentice knack,  
for taking things  apart, to play new roles,

as whole days that may be shared with wary
few, readers readied by experience, to become

as ware, soft, observant, paying eyeservice,
alert for entertaining clap traps when we all laugh.

Okeh, in a dark bijou-kiva, place where aspirations
are presented to the gathered together
to be entertained, de-brained, turned off, and

let be so, the picture show, as it were,
in the so esoterical initial induction, holiness exposed.

It is all in what you did not know, that makes
what you know now, worth living
through.

Yep. Fishing for a whole reality blessing
as living water
does occur to us as time,
we live in the flow, but we row,

because war rules the world we were born in,
and all the churches of messages etched in spirit,
written in light, of course, as on the silvered screen,
live to preach divine rights as old as lobsters's
stacking urges…
tapping scratching

And fire and memories paradiddling
cloudy smoky misty
shapes and shades noise uselessness knowing inspiring
zingers written on the door post, for good luck.

I read a coloring book, once, at a mall, in La Jolla.
"Grandma keeps a Kosher Kitchen" had a scene
to color yourself into, as a curious child noticing,
the little thing Grandma touched as she came in
from the garden of herbs and flowers for bees,

"what is that for?"
In the uncolored coloring book, it was so nonchalant,
"Good luck."
Grandma's grasp the lucid concept.
- food you know not of, love… luck
Thanks given. Praised be.

Long stories, should only be told as true,
if you, personally… lived to tell it, with no sugar on it.

Bitte, Schön. And so it goes. Kosher us, unclean other.

And what am I? Wild child left between the pillar
and the post of an aspiring great man, whose hopes

were dashed, when he crossed a line, in other peoples
ways of sealing soul stealing redemption agreements,

with a shotgun one potential solution…

by the grace of good luck from any source such
luck appears to have kept me breathing, aimlessly

as I imagine a spirit might decide, in truth, one breath
let go , allows a sense to follow, as glowing cardboard ash,
as the teller zones across old causes fought for and won,

which winning needs another singing, which cheek
this time? Which last laugh is led upto, now,

as I acknowledge the precious readers who form
the recognostic think thank thing,
deja deja
This has a sunset with it on Facebook and kenpepiton.com
Kris Fireheart Feb 2019
Doctors said,
"Kid, you've got problems.
Not to worry,
We can solve them.
Take this pill twice,
Every morning.
Here's two more for
When you crash. "

I was stupid,
What did I know?
Fresh in high school
Fourteen years old.
Life just seemed to
Pass me by,
Then I took one
And got high.

Freshman year,
In ROTC,
So on point, no one
Could beat me.
Then one day,
They caught my eye;
"You should probably
Meet this guy. "

Fifteen kids stuffed
In a closet,
Huddled around our
Technical sergeant,
In his hands,
Like shining diamonds,
"I've got stuff that you
Should try, man. "

Lortab, norco,
I'd heard stories.
Ritalin just didn't
Do much for me.
Tylenol 4 and xanax bars
Made me picture
Crashing  cars.

Everyone knew that
I had Addy, I drank beer,
And I smoked fatties.
They said,
"What do you want for go-pills?"
I said,
"I'll take ALL of THOSE pills. "

From that day,
My life was over.
Never again would I
Be sober.
Still I pulled through,
In the end,
With some help from
My 'new friends. '

Let's fast forward,
On to college,
Rich kids with their
Parents' wallets.
Track me down with
Midterm chills,
"Hey man, can I maybe
Score some pills? "

Hydrocodone, my
Best friend,
Stays with me until
The end.
Empty bliss that's
Like no other,
Gifted by my
Lovely mother.

Every month, I'd
Throw a party,
Young and stupid,
All invited.
Smoke some ****
And drink and chill,
Waiting for those
Luscious pills.

Talking smack and
Starting drama, waiting
Till we hear my mama,
Twist the **** and
Step inside,
Bongs and blunts were quick
To hide.

I said,  "chill, guys,
She's not stupid.
My mom's cool with how
I do ****;
Sure she likes to take my pills,
Still, she's brought me
All my thrills. "

"Twenty norco, fifteen xanax,
Pill for pill,
Understand that? "
Then she sat,
And smoked our joints,
"Oh my adorable
****** boys! "

Travis said,
"Dude, that's your MOM? "
I said,  "why, man?
Is there a problem? "
He said,  "nah, but ****,
She's cool! "
I said,
"Only since I've been in school. "
This is one about my relationship with pills and how they seem to connect all of ny friends and family together.
Pedro Garcia Apr 2016
Another wonderful night, quite a college student's delight.
I sit with a book open but no mind to read, no mind to heed, instead I type up this grieving student's creed.
See, there lies within me the desire to study and succeed, a desire that holds the ferocity of a bear!
But much like a bear, it lies dormant in there, hibernating without a care for my fruitless despair, and I must say, it's kind of unfair.
Nevertheless, here I begrudgingly open up my textbook for law, staring in awe with an unhinged jaw since the words on the page seem to only make me go "uhh."
I have a quiz, a midterm,a research paper, and much more to follow! Unfortunately, the information is a bit much to swallow. And frankly I'm worried my head just might be hollow. So, within my tears I'll continue to wallow.
So I read, and I re-read.
I cry, and I re-cry.
I give up, and I give up, albeit on tackling a different beast.
My only solace is the little mini-naps, closing my eyes for just a second or two, just to refresh my mind and continue reading the ch-

or waking up in an awkward position on the couch with my laptop on and my glasses barely holding onto my face, another morning of realizing I only did half the work I intended to!
Breeze-Mist Jun 2016
"Why does this matter?"
What? What do you mean....
"Why would people be interested in this?
What use would it have in real life?"
I'm not sure
But why should that matter?
Was Einstein thinking of who would care
When he thought up E=MC2
No. He wasn't.
I can tell you for a fact
That when he came up
With his relative theory
He was staring out of his window
And wondering
"What would happen if a man fell down
Inside a rapidly falling elevator?"

OK, but I get that you're trying to emphasize
Why people should care about science
So that the slackers in the class
Might become interested
In the project
So I won't catalog plant species
By concentrations
In different areas

"How will you control this?"
What? What do you mean?
I literally wrote out the variables.
"If you can't make the conditions
Exactly the same,
If you can't make sure
That someone could do exactly as you did,
The experiment isn't viable."

So, you're telling me
That even though
Comparing the air qualities
In different places
To see if any one place has inherently better air quality
Is not a viable experiment
Because if the wether
Is so much as one degree different
When someone else
Tries to test it
It will skew the results
So severely
That no one can
Make heads or tails of it?

Ok, I guess I'll just test stain removers on ink
Because I need a midterm grade

— The End —