Poetry Brand New Day

Brand New Day

I took the yellow brick road, clicked my heels, and went back home. But I returned to a much changed world. I felt like a foreigner, needing a passport to cross state lines. I’m not even sure if I’m still in the same country. A Stranger in a Strange Land. There’s too much light and …

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Poetry The Glass Bottle

The Glass Bottle

Murky sound, traveling under water Mellow yellow light fills my eyes Clarity of expression through my fingertips Urban attack, swank bank between my thighs Stay woke, fam. Independent study of the lines on your face Fellowship of the Pen, Return of the Queen Capsule learning, getting to know you Adrenaline to expel about The disease …

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Poetry lady of the lies we tell her selves

lady of the lies we tell her selves

You’re too friendly; You’re not friendly enough. You shouldn’t wear that; Flaunt it if you’ve got it. You’ve got big hands, really tall, you play ball? Why did you do that? Why didn’t you say that? You deserved it; You let him do it; You didn’t stop him. If it was me, I wouldn’t; If …

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Poetry Loving is Leaving and Coming Back Around Again

Loving is Leaving and Coming Back Around Again

I’ve never been in love. Not like how the poets scribble, the musicians sing, we storytellers write bestselling novels about. Infatuated, yes; blind, justice; obsessed, hungry. I thought I loved my birthplace. Rose coloured glasses and all that. I left like a thief in the night, Only it was day (that much I recall) – …

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Poetry Pomegranate Juice in Three Parts

Pomegranate Juice in Three Parts

Sweet and sour, puckered tongues, and stained fingertips I had a great line here, but I deleted it in revision I tend to ramble and I drop in images from the things I’ve learned And I’ve learned a lot. So much crime in the world today, makes me wanna hide under the covers But you …

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Poetry The Transitory Nature of Self

The Transitory Nature of Self

It seems as though I am in a constant state of transition. People come, people go, but nothing ever really changes. Perpetual motion until a greater force propels me in another direction. I ache to find stability in earthquake friendly regions. Why do I open myself to such heartache? I must’ve been a masochist in …

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Poetry I Don’t Like September

I Don’t Like September

I do not like September. With its cooling breeze and covered knees, Lyrically imprisoned in someone else’s dreams. It’s back to school, march one, two, three. I do not like September. Three steps closer to the end of the year. Which begs the question: where did it go? One happy little walk off a very …

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Poetry Ninety-Eight Degrees

Ninety-Eight Degrees

I’ve forgotten how to sing. The pen scratches paper but yields no wheat. I’ve lost my soul to someone else’s anarchy. Withdrawn lies under the symphony, But I gather no sympathy. Ginger seas rock to simple little melodies. Help me to remember how to sing.