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Debbie Brindley Oct 2018
My family are far from perfect
Some can be quite extreme
My siblings extraordinary artist
A sidecar racer my dad has been
Mum a caring support worker
A trait passed on to my sister and me
My children on journeys
of their own
One girl
two boys
makes three
My grandaughter
so very gorgeous
she's just learnt to run
Having just had her 1st birthday 
 life for her has only  just begun
My nieces and nephews
all unique
amazing in their own way
Aunties door always open
for them to come and stay
My Aunties
wonderful people I adore
most live in New Zealand
wish I could see them more
Finally my husband
always kind
swept me off my feet
and wrapped me
in a love divine
Love my family
Yenson Aug 2018
Build me a slow boat to Timbuktu via China
Heave down a fleecy cloud and let me float to Nirvana
Hunt me a unicorn and let me ride to the Enchanted Forest
Find me a giant eagle and let it lift me to Outer Mongolia East

'please don't leave me here amongst demons with human faces'

Show me a Church and I'll show you a hall full of Sinners
Point out a wife and I'll reveal a liar and a fake and none dimer
Call a Doctor and its a Monster who betrayed the Hippocratics
That Government Boss is a cruel heinous snake without ethics

'please don't leave me here amongst demons with human faces'

See that Preacher and see a spineless hypocrite back-stabber
That lover was nothing but a sick deranged false **** twister
My dear acquaintance a heartless corrupted shyster unhinged
A Newsagent full of pitiless, gloomy, vile, psychotic joy-suckers

'please don't leave me here amongst demons with human faces'

That friend of years a bloodsucking Judas who betrayed and stole
Uncles who rained terror with sadistic pleasures in parts unwhole
Show me nieces and find two-faced ******* with poisons in veins
Neighborhoods full of silent killers and Rapists of truthful genes

'please don't me leave here amongst demons with human faces'

A vicars' daughter wielding angst axes better than a viking
The pathetic Moors zombies tearing flesh on masters beholding
The dead-eyed Arabs salivating madly or at daggers drawn
Contemptible Men-kids with pin ****** used as King's pawns

'please don't leave me here amongst demons with human faces'

Build me a cottage in rolling green fields with blue skies
Find me a fair maiden with a true heart and warming smiles
Show me a place that holds fairness and justice real and dear
A world with humanity we're all sisters and brothers for care

'please don't leave me here amongst demons with human faces'

copyright@LaurenceA.9th August2018

Jun 2017

One day, parkouring through my uncles two story apartment,

I was drawn naturally to his desktop computer

upon which I found his OkCupid Dating profile.

I don't remember his username, Or anything about the site really,

But I remember the head-shot of a beautiful woman

framed above the desk

the sterile grey Rubbermaid totes behind me like caskets, 

How they made even the hardwood floors

look like they were holding in the dead.

For my Grandmothers birthday

my family gathered at Captain Newicks

her favorite seafood restaurant.

My uncle flirted with the waitress.

I don't think I've ever gone to a restaurant with my uncle where he

didn't flirt with the waitress.

Captain Newicks went out of business shortly after that dinner

followed shortly by my grandmothers life.

the relationship between my uncle and that waitress expired well

before both my Grandmother or Captain Newicks.

I remember asking my grandmother about my Uncle.

Tarots Fool would have predicted

my grandmothers eyelids

a silent prayer before her words.

He had two children by his first wife,

keeps a portrait of her above his desk.

She was a blessing on the family

Selfless amd loved by every one.

She took her own life

Spread her wings to break free from the cage He kept her locked in.

He buried his heart in her casket,

motorcycles, empty bottles

had a third child by a second wife

who buried her heart in drugs and strangers.

Amanda was 6 years old when her mother died.

my uncles wife. Her brother josh was 3

when she died my uncle wanted to put them both up for adoption

he didn't.

Their mother died on the 20th of September

a week after her 25th birthday.

their mother once bought a bunch of carnations

with a dead rose in the middle

and said "it looks like I'm dead".

she took a bottle of pills before going to a chinese restaurant

went out as a family

and collapsed at the table.

she was rushed to the hospital

she didn't make it.

their mother wasn't happy

her and my uncle were getting divorced at the time

lived in the same house that I grew up in.

when my uncle told the kids mommy wasn't coming home

my mother was 17 

and there to see all of it.

When my mother was 17 

she had to watch her baby cousins be told their mother had died.

When my grandmother passed.

grief bounced off of my uncles callouses

ricocheted to my cousins, robbed 

twice now of a selfless mother.

The tragedies in my family

have always enthralled me.

like shakespeare sonnets

I breath them into my faithless nights

tap an extra dream-catcher on my bedpost

in space of a prayer.

When The hearth-fire of our family dimmed 

a tealight in my grandmothers eyes.

grayed, Glossed.

she could no longer crochet 

one big dysfunctional quilt, 

together from our families yarn.

without her needle, 

I was determined to watch how our life spun forward.

The next time I saw my uncle,

He offered me a job.

Thick mosquito blinded us as we carried our sweat 

with Rubbermaid totes into a blue two story home 

deep in the evergreen thickets of Maine.

a tall white fan rotated slowly back and fourth 

Cooling the wet patches on our T-shirts while my Uncle 

flirted with the landlord

I still remember when my uncle tossed me the truck keys

the look of terror I gave him

How easy it was for him to trust

I guess when your heart is buried in a casket 

you stop worrying who has your keys.

It makes me remember

when my daughter asked for my keys 

I would sit her in the drivers seat

watch her pretend to drive.

I loved imagining her free

living how she wanted.

I still wouldn't give her my keys.

she would turn my car into a casket.

It makes me remember

when that little girls mother asked me to drive

My words spun portcullises

prison bars forged in anxiety

scaffolding out of latex secrets

Glued with siren smiles, pacifier kisses

denying cigarette smoke on her breath

fueling infernos in my head.

when my uncle handed me his keys without hesitation.

my religion was insulted by his tough skin.

I felt his simple kindness 

like a splash of holy water. 

saw in me, the devil 

caging a woman like property

holding her hostage 

out of fear.

And yes 

when She could drive she left me

And yes 

when she left me she took her daughter.

every morning 

cereal bowl of pills, I **** myself

keep a poster of my mothers face 

covered in bruises 

behind the tiny orange bottles 

to remind me why I do it.

wake up twice, 

first as Phoenix, dying

second as a watcher, writer and admirer.

callouses are not to protect us from the outside at all.

Callouses harden our bodies into caskets.

Hold in all our dead.
Ken Pepiton Nov 2018
Common rural folk,
the kind who fight for food and shelter and
when they have it
they keep it, store it in holes and barns.
Children dole the corn to fowl
and bovines who gladly eat and give

sustenance, enough to share or save for
when the worst that can haps

Uncles hire warriors to keep watch,
or the no-class at all trash take
all they have inherited and
eat it and burn the hides,

old men beat empty baskets, soft
beat them, soft around the fire,
old women shuffle, shhh see
the ash mixt wit' dust rise on dust devils,
swirl swish dance sing soft hear
hear us
shhh sing soft some rain come soon

Peace in the valley, come see,
soft dance.
Ah, you see, I was thinking about the order of things and found there was a category created for men of my sort. I sorta knew it, all along.
Ashly Kocher Oct 2018
My name is Ashly (yes without an E in my name). I am 33, my husband is 47 ( yes 14 years apart). I couldn’t be happier with Brent in my life. On Wednesday, October 17 we will be together for 10 years, even though we have been best friends for close to 20 years.
April 18, 2010 we were married surrounded by our closest friends and family. It was the best day of my life, well both of our lives.
As any normal newlyweds, we went on a honeymoon, to Disney because that’s our “happy place”. Assuming we would start a family in the coming months or years.
Fast forward to today.... still waiting, and waiting....
After hearing for a couple years..
Are you trying?
Are you pregnant?
When will you have children?
The clock is ticking
Time is running out
So forth and so on...
Now many don’t ask who know
Many just wonder if we even ever wanted children or to start a family.
Seeing all my high school friends and others throughout the world posting on social media “We’re expecting”
“We’re going by two feet”
I kindly reply with a smile on my face, but emptiness in my heart. Forcing a smile and a nice gesture.
It’s not because I’m not happy for others, but discouraged with myself.
Why me?
Why us?
Are we not good enough?
What’s wrong with me?
What’s wrong with my husband?
And the list goes on and on...
I’ve tried to tell myself “everything happens for a reason” and I try to stick by that quote, but unfortunately for this situation, it just plain *****.
It hurts, it’s mortifying, it leaves unopened and hurtful scars that you can explain or be seen to anyone.
As time goes on, it gets harder to think about because let’s face it, we’re not getting any younger. It’s a constant struggle to keep a smile on my face and happiness in my heart especially with this constant void.
It’s ok.
I’m ok.
We’re ok.
If it would happen at some point, I’ll be happy and proud, but if it doesn’t, it wasn’t meant to be and that’s ok.
I am who I am suppose to be, who I’m suppose to be with and we are happy. Even if that means we will never be direct parents to our own child.
We both can be role models, aunts and uncles, friends and families to others.
Although the sand through the hourglass is running thin, our lives together is where it all begins.
Happiness and struggles
Love and pain
We are one together and that’s the most precious thing I can say.
I love you Brent, with all my heart, even if we’ll never be parents, I wouldn’t want to go through this with anyone else.
I know myself and many others go through the same situation and it’s very hard to talk about. I am here to she’s my story and hopefully help someone else who is going through the same thing, will have the courage to speak out. Your not alone.
Prathipa Nair May 2016
Kerala, with its blessed beauty of nature, long and silver-haired with colorful clips of fishes and a black mountain cap, standing in a green curly dress full of colorful butterflies and glowing flowers on it, mesmerizing eyes with calm and peaceful nature gifts us a pleasant world.

             In 1975, a new creation of God, his loving child came to this world. I cried as every child does but at the next moment I laughed because I have been born into God’s own country, The Paradise. Thanks to the Almighty for bringing me to this wonderful heaven. Oops! I forgot one special person. Slowly I turn towards that smiling face, the one who is holding me in her hands, my sweet Mother.

            Hi, I am Neha, the blessed child born into a loving and caring family. Our house too was not less than a paradise in a beautiful village which was full of greenery. It was a joint family with grandfather, grandmother, great grandmother, uncles, and aunts and especially with a dozen of cousins! After three years, being blessed with a younger sister.

          I was a shy and reserved character for strangers in the outer world but I was open with my family just because of the serenity they made me feel by giving the freedom to express my feelings and wishes. My childhood days gave me the most memorable and golden moments in my life. It was such great fun! In those days we used to play a lot of outdoor games, going for movies with our granny, fighting with brothers, walking on walls, sitting near the pond and chatting till our granny came running with a bamboo stick, competing with the cuckoo and making it angry and making fun of boys! My cousins and I never missed the regional movies on Doordharshan. I was passionate about listening to music on AIR, writing it down, memorizing it and singing along with the singer. When my mother finds me missing, she comes searching for me without a second thought to catch me red-handed with a radio.

         Then came the tape recorder which made it easier for me to listen to my favorite songs when I wish and record my own sweet voice... (giggling) Actually I love doing intoxicating things and have fun which I shouldn’t being doing! Isn’t it funny? But my grannies were too strict that I had to control all my mischievous behavior and be a very good girl. Got confused? Ha! Ha! There were about four grannies. There was always a unity in our family. I never had the feeling of being without a brother of my own as my cousins who were brothers always made me feel more like their own sister.

        One more thing about me friends, I am a great devotee of Lord Krishna, whom I believe is always with me as a friend, lover and well-wisher. Oh my God! I revealed the secret about my love and lover! Imagining Him as a lover, playing with Him, dancing with Him, enjoying happiness to the fullest with Him was my great dream. Please don’t shake with laughter but I really wish that to happen, a blessing to see the original form with His flute, the sky-blue colored Krishna and experience the love and **** transforming myself to Radha, making it a spiritual affair.

My father, who was a great artist, used to draw Krishna’s pictures especially for me, knowing my crazy love for Him.

            I did my schooling well as a normal child and scored average marks happily!

I felt that I was the luckiest person in this world. (smiling)

            Mmmm. Now it’s time for college. I got admission for BA English Literature, my favorite subject, my passion and one of my dreams.

            One of my cousins (sister) and I joined the college. We were in great excitement and were sure about having great fun because when we both were together, there was no doubt of pleasure and entertainment. Even though I was not so modern I was stylish and became a queen in everyone’s eyes!  We had a great time in college with our friends. There were boyfriends too.

One of our friends, a best friend, Nikhil was so special, caring and loving, always doing something exciting to make me fall hard into laughter.

         Hey! One more secret: I used to feel that I am playing with Krishna as a friend (Remember my wish?  ...LOL)

         Nikhil and I used to fight a lot on different topics but when it’s all over and we got tired, we were back together with more affection and fondness for each other. He was a very comfortable friend with whom I could share any of my feelings and viewpoints straight from the heart.

I was moving forward to the fourth month of my college, September, when the buds of beautiful flower forget-me-not blossom smiled at us.

       In this beautiful month, comes Onam, the day that welcomes the great King, Mahabali to Kerala. It was a month of celebration for me. A pookkalam would be drawn, decorated with different colorful flowers in front of each house till the day of Onam for ten days, which I really enjoyed during the festival.

       Knowing my wish to do this, permitting me to make pookkalam for those ten days.

      I got up early in the morning wandering everywhere to collect flowers from our house and of course our neighbor’s house (giggling).

       After making my art with flowers and admiring myself, I gave a pat on my back mentally as if I have won the first prize for pookkalam. The most interesting thing is, my cute great Grandmother joined me with a no tooth smile (imagine)

I enjoyed my holidays with my family in new clothes and Onam sadhya with my favorite Ada pradhaman ( payasam) ….yummy !!

       During those days there were only landline and it was strictly prohibited for us. Permitted to make only important calls if necessary and only girls could ring us, not boys (how sad, isn’t it?)

                        No mails! No Facebook! No Whatsapp!

      Still it was a great time because we were able to feel moment of celebrations, relationships and perceive the worth of feelings of our dear and near ones. Almost everyone was free of mental and emotional strain in our time. The only reason was many of them were able to solve the complications and pressure of their lives through direct communication, a joint family, a joint society. There was always a lot of helping hands.

         Children enjoyed each others company as they met daily by playing outdoor games, going to school by cycles, walking together and sharing their daily class sessions, their mischievous acts and how were they punished together by their teachers. They even shared their family issues and there was no need of counseling for children at that time.

         I was back to college after the Onam holidays and celebrations. You might be thinking why I didn’t mention about missing my friends and college.

Actually they were in my thoughts but I am the kind of person whose policy is to “Live in the Present” and not spoil the present happiness of oneself and others.

       I am sharing one more secret! I missed a special person among them. Guess who?

You were right! It’s none other than Nikhil, my Krishna.

       Reached college in my caravan, BSA SLR (my cycle) with my cousin sister. All our friends came running towards us and we contributed our love and affection for each other.

I lost my father when I was in college but my uncle never gave me a chance to mourn the loss and stood with me as a pillar filling absence of my father. I always believed that Krishna was with me in all my ups and downs in different forms to support me.

After my father’s death, I decided to take life in a methodical way with my credence in Krishna to overcome the trammels coming on my way.

I accomplished my graduation and joined for post-graduation. You might be wondering why I am not mentioning anything about Nikhil….hmmm….I read your mind….

The truth was that I was totally lost after the death of my father and my full concentration was to complete my graduation well.

        Hey! But his full support made me more ardent and to gain more will-power to face all ups and downs.

        Nikhil completed his and then joined to do CA. As his father got transferred his family relocated to another state. That was a big shock for me but I consoled my mind and heart, requesting them not to make me weak.

Accomplished my post-graduation, did my Teachers Training and I am an English teacher now! Surprised? But happy for me, right?

       One thing friends, till now I have faith and belief in my Krishna.

I know what is going on in your mind. Did Nikhil and I communicate with each other after his father’s transfer? Did we meet again?

After leaving the city, we were in touch for few months till he flew to America.

Slowly I too stopped communicating with him and engaged myself in daily matters and family duties and took care of my mother and sister.

      All my cousins, one by one completed their academics, some got married and settled in their family life. But there was always a get together once in a month. Now my mother wanted me to get married and settled.

      Many alliances came and I was ready to shake my head like a goat to the one which my elders chose for me.

Ha! Ha! Just kidding…. They know what is good and bad for me. Actually that is what I believe.

Hmmm…. Anyway I made one promise to myself that if I give birth to a baby boy, I would surely name him “Nikhil”.

Now I am a wife and a mother of a one and a half-year old boy.

Excuse me, did you ask me something?

Oh! My son’s name?

One second please …. My baby is crying…


Please change the baby's diaper !
A short story of a girl who lived in Kerala in 80s and 90s.  Hope you all will enjoy it :-) Sorry, if it's too long.. Please take time and have patience to read it.. Read when you are completely free and mood off :-)
CAM Nov 2017
I really want to thank you.
Whether I'm being sarcastic or not,
You'll never know.

I feel like every time I write something,
It's for someone to read.
Spooky government guys,
Or girls who really like fries.

But sometimes it feels like I don't want to.
I don't want you to read about
Who or what affects me.

Sometimes I worry because my friends can read these things.
My friends, they enjoy poetry too.
My English teacher's on here.
She says she approves.

It's weird, isn't it?
How small the world is.
Yet I never see who I really want to.

I see uncles and aunts
And really long lost cousins.
I see my grandma's friends everywhere.
At weddings and all affairs.

But the only way I can see
Who I really want to.
Is through writing and pictures,
And trust me,
I do.

But it feels like it can't be real,
not yet.
I have eight months to go,
And I fret and I fret.

I can't wait to see those
Amazing blue eyes.
The upturn of blond hair,
And your shirts like the skies.

Your sense of adventure keeps me going.
It's weird,
I know,
how these words keep flowing.
You'll never read them.
But if you do,
I suppose.

I miss you.
With your laugh,
So infrequent,
And your entrances.
Through fire escapes?
     That's perfectly normal to me.
From under a table?
      That's pretty normal to see.
To scare me on a staircase?
      Of course, why not?
Hanging off a balcony?
    Fine, but keep your thoughts.

But the one entrance you have yet to make.
Is the one I want you to most.
The one that leads you back into my world.
The one that makes the legend unfurl.

I have documents upon documents
I'd love you to read.
But you never really will,
It's not hard to believe.

Poems and lists,
Monologues galore.
But wait and look,
Here's one more.
And you ask,
What is it truly for?

A thank you,
Dear friend
For being who you are.
And simply to ask you to look up at the stars.

For I can see the moon,
And so can you.
And I just wish,
I could see you too.
Don't mind this. Just an outflowing of thought.
Alaina Feb 3
my dad died when i was four
my mom left him
and he couldn't understand anything anymore
so he drank
and he forgot what was important
and he died

my mom died when i was four
she could no longer handle my dad's irresponsibility
so she left,
built a wall that nothing could get though
and she was in there so long that she couldn't feel anymore
and she died

my uncles were beaten
by their father
and one time he hit too hard
or smacked too rough
and they died

or maybe they didn't die
maybe my dad lives
when he sits down and watches a football game with his family

maybe my mom lives
when she helps her patient breathe on his own again
after trying for weeks

maybe my uncles live
when they sit down to eat with the family
and forget the drug problems and the fear of the past

maybe i have died
but i'm still living
Kamyl Garner Mar 5
I say  
‘Marguerite Johnson’
and you don’t know.
Who she really was, what  
She really did.

Maya, a childhood nickname turned professional
Angelopulos, past other, Greek and unknown.

She was a poet, a woman of many
words that changed America.
Words that touched our hearts,
Words that opened our eyes
to truth.

She was an actress, in the Obie-winning “The Blacks”,
Off-Broadway, “Calypso Heat Wave”, inspiring her singer.

She was a singer, writer of song.  
West Coast and
Hawaiian nightclubs were once
Embellished by her voice.

She was a dancer, a portrayer of emotion, through movements
Rhythmic and graceful
Calm, phantasmagoric, and beautiful.

She was an author.
She knew why,  
“The Caged Bird” sang.
But, once. She had no voice.

Traumatized and scared. Age seven, suffered at the hands of the distant mother’s boyfriend.
She went mute,
feeling responsible for their crime,

After her uncles rid the world of the problem.  
A candle’s flame blown out.

A friend and fellow lover of the spoken word.
Helped Maya find her voice.
Introduced Hughes,
Du Bois, and Lawrence Dunbar.

Then, the canonical Shakespeare,  
Dickens, Poe.

She was a scholar.
She was a mother.  
She was a fighter.

She stood for her rights and the rights of her people.
She stood, side by side, with many known and recognized.
Malcom X.
Martin Luther King Jr.
His assassination on her birthday stopped the celebration forever.

Then she sent flowers to Coretta until her death in 2006.
She was an inspiration.  

I say
“Maya Angelou”
And now you know.
Lawrence Hall Dec 2018
In a deep summer dusk that seems forever
A twilight of fireflies and magic found
Small children barefoot ‘round the universe
Happily pursued by a mysterious It

Home base is the foot of the old porch steps
Beneath a pantheon of elders wise:
Mothers and fathers and uncles and aunts
And in their Old Gold cigarette incense we

Tumble like puppies on those old porch steps
In a deep summer dusk that is forever
Your ‘umble scrivener’s site is:
It’s not at all reactionary, tho’ it might be drivel.

My vanity publications are available on as Kindle and on bits of dead tree:  The Road to Magdalena, Paleo-Hippies at Work and Play, Lady with a Dead Turtle, Don’t Forget Your Shoes and Grapes, Coffee and a Dead Alligator to Go, and Dispatches from the Colonial Office.
JB Scotsman Jul 2018
In line I find minutes are hours
Years are eternity.
In line I find friends laughing, sun shining, brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, parents and grandparents around me eating chocolate birthday cake and homemade ice cream.
In line I find summer turns to fall and I walk to school with my metal Star Wars lunch pail.
In line I find time is not so slow as I walk across the stage with cheers for high school graduation.
In line I find the ups and downs and whirlwind of dreams, career, marriage, homes, vacations, friends, family spinning as time slips into the future. 40 just a number.
In line I find success and failure, pain and peace. I have more scars but more depth. More meaning and more love.
In line I find that many in front of me are gone. I wish I could have just one more dinner or phone call. The sounds of the children behind me keep me marching on.
In line I find that I can see the passing of time before it happens. I can speed it up or slow it down before it comes. It comes and passes so rapidly.
In line I wait for what must come, my time. My turn at the end of the line.
Sleepz Nov 2018
Creativity (Midnight Freewrite)

Once upon a time, my mind was blank.
Could I finally be sane
from the feelings ingrained in my so often flooded mind?
This ocean pushes the small grains of sand as though keeping
them all at one place,
the inability to crawl back to where they once were.
Accompanied by many,
yet purified throughout the constant washing due
to clashing of waves.
The stubborn rocks give in,
once enormous,
they've become wearisome from being pummeled over and over by the ruthless ripples,
eating away mercilessly like piranhas.
The rocks begin to deteriorate like my wretched nightmares,
as if it was inevitable for them to reciprocate this way.

I think to myself

Could I for once create something beautiful without the taint
of distortion my pessimistic perspective brings upon my cursed
Or is the **** after such a wicked dream be looked down
upon by my insides which take control of me?

Perhaps one should blame his imaginations
for considering such a change.
Imaginations which were once banished.
Ones leading to joy and happiness,
when one was once optimistic to the sun and the trees,
the butterflies in his stomach that
cause him to day dream.
The butterflies which took him away from the struggles, and constant agony.
The one that drove him away from the thoughts
of his uncles,
and made him believe they would be there as he woke.

The kind of imagination that
One must pinch himself to see if he's awake.

But why do I feel?

                                                                I once had the power to dream,
                                                 To think such miracles were real.
                             I dared to think there was such a thing.

                                                     My creativity got the best of me.
Natasha Jan 31
I miss parts of being a child
the endless days with not a care in the world
the simple clothes and bike rides
on back roads where grass grew so long it curled

in the gentle breezes of June afternoons,
or seeing the neighbourhood cats stalk,
& lay on warm side walks for their
mid day snooze.

or summers by the lake,
being in the sand and sun until late
there was no tomorrow, no yesterday
just then, there, today.

parents, and grandparents and aunts and uncles
still full of laughter, life, love and light.
as they aged, their lights fade
each day, they become more grey.
smiles strained, and eyes foggy
memories of their newborn babes.

it's all so strange.

it happens to all of us

the circle of life

we're born, we live, we die.

I just never knew to treasure all those long summer nights,
all of those days wasted away
not thinking of the future,
just what we were going to do today.
I've been way too busy/happy to write. usually, I write when I'm sad lol. I was talking to my sister today and we started talking about life.
Just made me kinda think through things.
sigh. who knows anymore.
i realized recently that i do love my friends
that word so easily gets thrown around now
that i was never sure that other than family and those i deeply cared for
that it would ever come out
now im not trying to give some kind of old folks home rant
about how things have changed
and love doesnt mean the same thing that it used to
like it doesnt hold the same weight that it used to
when in reality i feel like it holds more than ever
it's just easier to bear now
so we say it more than ever
in a world defined by hatred
its only right for us to love each other
whether friend or brother
son, daughter
sister, father, mother
cousins, aunts, uncles
significant others
now i didnt tell my friends i loved them
because the phrase was reserved for those i couldn't live without
but honestly, not trying to be over dramatic
but in terms of my friends
i dont think i would be alive without
like i dont think i could fall asleep at night, hugging my pillow tight and smile without
like i dont think i could get up in the morning and brush my teeth, clean my sheets and get in my car and drive without
and since i know that there are people that feel the same way towards me, theres no longer this strong sense of wanting to die right now
so i really love my friends
and i let them know that every chance that i can manage
because that old folks home sermon
about how love isn't the same now
doesnt do us any good
it only really does us damage
A crumb attracts ants, a baby-sitter: uncles. Once I'm bed-rested I'll be not bed-ridden. Once I **** Paco, Jose will be lost to other Mexicans.
   A sensible wonder causes me to ***** a silly smile.
A bullet says so much to the uncooperative — it says
“cooperate and I won't shoot.”

— The End —