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Twas the night before
Hawaii islands on the radar
A monster opened the door
It shoulders a storied scar

Of the last time, it hit its mark
Rearing its ugly head, ahead of pace
As the eye looms '82 in the dark
Wrinkles on this  eve sit sadly in boldface

Kauai sat once in unnatured infamy
It sunny shores hit once by the beast
Clouds of villains played in that symphony
With the next generation looking to feast

As the residence brace for the worst
Of the monster stepping on its paradise
With category four winds and cloudburst
The hope is that the monster plays nice

With the Aloha Spirit preserved with leis
In place of bold headlines of strung wrath
Hawaii can pray rays of light in the coming days
Willing the monster to take a different path

Logan Robertson

8/23/2018
To my friends and relatives on Oahu, I pray. Update-monster played nice. Outstanding was its piano play. Storm went from a 5,4,3,2,1 ... miss. With the Aloha Spirit preserved with leis
In place of bold headlines of strung wrath. Thankyou.
AS Jul 16
Life is not free,
it comes with a cost just to breathe.
The expectations not to be emplaced on the seed.
Judged for how they choose lead.
Punished for how they believe and chose to breed.
Marked and abandoned,
for choosing to see and to move away,
to reject disgusting displays.
To be shown disdain for following their own way.
Blamed when they choose not to stay the same.
Cost of the invisible chain,
placed on the terrain of birth.
Dependent to the pain,
to the mother who reined.
Tossed away when finally mirrored the destructive game,
patience snapped and apologised for the same way the birth-maid acts.
Distanced to detach,
to move away from the shame.
A promise made when a little babe,
to never be the same.
Shocked on the way,
they pushed patience down the drain.
Enacted by refusal to be the slave,
to take the blame and defend the endless plague you enrage.
Expected to be thankful,
guilted to stay in line.
Manipulated every time they attempt to  fly.
Co-dependently wrapped,
to give meaning the way in which your life lacked.
An ear to smear all your hate,
fear and tsunami tears.
Flooded in your pain,
you  the victim and to take no blame.
Born a parent in the early days,
cleaning and protecting you from the dirt you spurt.
From the countless monsters in which you learnt.
Sadness,
that you ever witnessed that level of madness.
Not to be kept to your past tense,
to swallow and drain with your inner hallow.
To clip their wings,
as for only you they can sing.
To demand,
offended when the glove is on the other hand.
To not poison others land or be offended when they flee.
When the hunger to find serene,
suck dry for too long.
Came to a point,
grief hidden within the earthly core finally exploded.
No longer naive,
willing to adore or ignore.
Needing to breathe,
to speak,
to burst out what has been hidden underneath.
To truly breathe,
to find reprieve.
To heal from the demons which deceived.
To unfreeze the mind,
from all the other monsters you missed slip by.
Not to be told that I lied,
because it breaks your god damn pride.
Not to be hissed at or dismissed,
for what you missed.
Life has been,
was what I owed,
for being brought up and given food.
The basics to accept the rudeness and being clueless.
Don't give birth if your child does not come first,
don't let them bleed to feed your own needs.
Recognise they're a child,
not a friend to take care after you've gone wild.
Not to be confined in places they seem wise.
A child is a gift,
not someone to heavy lift.
Not to manage your whims.
As a child do not owe,
no entitlement to treat them low.
Rid of your countless rules,
the one's incredibly cruel.
Those only practised by the few,
the ones who spread the blue,
to those who surround.
Unable to find stable ground.
Life should be free,
in this way you see,
it cannot not be.
Children deserve to breathe,
not to have them mentally disciplined onto their knees.


© 2018

Abigail Sheard
Poetry is my release, a place to reveal and heal.

I am very lucky that my anxiety and depression no longer fully control me, it has taken a lot of hard work though to get to this point.
English Jam Jun 16
I feel absolute - sometimes
I feel abused - but I say I'm fine
It's getting harder to find words that rhyme
I feel incomplete - can you spare some time?

There'll be no more suicide under my roof
There'll be no pretending you're depressed, that's the truth
Your mental health is OK, go to school
I'm not gonna talk about this anymore
Just go into your room and close the door
You say you're suffering from depression and cutting yourself
Well I say leave depression on the shelf
And no, you're not getting professional help
If you really want attention, just say so yourself
Just be happy like a little child
It'll go away if you try smile

Think happy thoughts


No
This isn't another argument I will let go
I don't believe in shouting, I believe in salvation
I don't believe in punishment, I believe in patience
I don't condone diversity, I promote
I'm not the one to complain, I vote
Yet I still don't share pain, I joke
Because apparently young people's problems are just a hoax
Because apparently I can't talk about my problems freely
Apparently if I do, it's worse than drug dealing
It's the fractured state of mind
That I try to to hide
This is your decision to remain blind
You call these protests teen rage
You call these problems teenage
If you're gonna dismiss this with a yawn
And ignore the child with guns drawn
If you're gonna prioritise getting rid of pot
And ignore the school shooter firing another shot
If you're gonna waste time
Wondering if the ten year old black kid is spreading gang signs
Just don't be surprised
At another teen suicide

Think happy thoughts
There's a lesson you gotta learn, but I don't want it to be taught
The lesson that young people can experience suicidal thoughts
It's the one thing everybody seems to be missing
But it could be solved if you just stop and listen

Apparently if I have sex
I'm either a slut or a player, depending on my sex
My body's for rent
In my cheap apartment
At my tender age, love is too complicated a thing
My mind can't handle the complex emotion it brings
Yet at this tender age, I need to know my career
Of course, a lawyer or a doctor is what they want to hear
Cause my real dreams are "unrealistic, dear"
They're willing to whisper in my ear
That's not mature
But if we start speaking about things that are serious
We get looked at like we're delirious
And face responses like "you're too young to be so serious"
However,  I wanna talk
About how if I walk
Behind a white woman in a parking lot
She's holding the panic button, hoping she doesn't get shot
Thinking that she's gonna get robbed of everything she's got
And I wanna talk about how a rapist gets off easy
Because apparently now apples make him queasy
And being in prison might ruin his reputation
But I get shut down, cause this isn't suitable topic for conversation
So I'll quote my mother to deliver the message of our generation
She always told me "prevention is better than cure"
And the youth are the future
And there's nothing any doctor can do
About the suicide they're succumbing to

Think happy thoughts
It's the one thing everybody seems to be missing
But it could be solved if you just stop and listen
There's a lesson you gotta learn, but I don't want it to be taught
The lesson that young people can experience suicidal thoughts
The result of spending the day listening to Kendrick Lamar's To Pimp A Butterfly album (if you can read this as a sort of rap, it works out perfectly)
Andra May 2015
02:47 am. i am on the bench, alone, waiting...

the stranger sees me, sighs and asks me wheezing:
"you yearn for someone, too. don't you?"
i gasp. he passes by me and stops.
"what do i have to do to get rid of the yearning? i'm not ok..."
i say nothing, but in my eyes he could've read my answer, my cries and my yearn.
my yearns...
"i should go to sleep, right?"
i smile.
„but does it go away?”
„it certainly does not go away, but at some point you will get used to it and it's like a friend new in town that you take out for a walk.”, i answer him.
"you miss him, don't you?"
i gasp again. we look quietly at each other for a few seconds. then my phone rings.
"tell him that. you might be surprised. now i'll go, pick it up. good night!"
i managed to say: "take care of your yearns!" and i picked up the phone.

it was not him.
Alyssa Underwood Jul 2016
O Lord Jesus,
I want to live and walk and bow
in constant awe of You,
but I am so easily distracted and waylaid.
Fasten my eyes and heart on You,
for You alone are worthy.
I am not worthy to even peek at Your beauty,
but by Your own worthiness You've invited
me to dwell forever in Your presence,
yet how often I refuse the privilege.
Why would I ever do that?
What is wrong with me?
How hard-headed and hard-hearted I must be!
Save me from my messed-up self
and from this messed-up world,
for I am sorely helpless and lost without You.
Draw me by the force of Your love
into the light of Your glory and goodness,
awaken me to the healing touch of Your Word.

Capture and change me to the core,
for only You can, my Savior.
Rid my soul of its blinding
filth, muck, rot and perversion
that I may freely sing, dance,
swim and soar in the wonder of You.
Cause me to crave You with an insatiable,
desperate appetite that expels my fleshly hunger.
Teach me to ever feast on You!
I need You and long for You, Jesus,
but send the burning, ripping ache
deeper, deeper, deeper until nothing
remains but desire for You.
Come and satisfy me, O Delight of delights,
in that glorious and awestruck place
of endless fascination and total possession
where my will is finally drowned in Yours.
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