Amberlee Clark-2016

The Small Town Mind
By Amberlee Clark


Look out
At the ambling, sun-blistered Texas hills
That roll on for miles.
Never look inside this small town.
Inside you’ll see the same things as ever-
The six-lane bowling alley that only ever uses two,
The three-year-old Chinese place that everyone still calls new,
And of course,
The clapboard churches topped with spears like steeples.

Look out
And pretend you’re walking along the desolate highway
Away from this even more desolate township
Where Uncle Andy bust his own head in
By slamming it against his tiled bathroom wall,
And his son- always fresh from a jail cell-
Said a prayer to Angel Dust
Before he bothered scrubbing the bloodstains.
Where even the dough-faced girl learned from her friends
How to give birth too young
And now her children must pay penance
Since she’s only half a mother.

Look out.
Inside they’re breeding crazy
Because you can only visit Laura’s Coffee Shop/DVD Rental
/Lemonade Stand/ Secondhand Furniture Store
So many times.
Or glance over your shoulder to find the pastor’s wife’s eyes.
Or look up at the downtown ghost hotel until you find,
That the ghosts are haunting everything.

These people have been stagnant for decades,
Caught up in a life cycle of toads.
The only change is growing less innocent.
No amount of drugs or Jesus can repair it.
And they drink the water from this town’s mineral wells
Laced with lithium,
(As if it could pacify their imbalance)
And then they suffocate themselves in their cigarette smoke
Because they have to gasp just to know they’re alive.


Look out.
Inside you’ll find the rough-knuckled man
Too hard to wait and beat his girl
When her children aren’t looking,
And the man who managed to find an escape
Only to come crawling back in
Because once a small town gets into your mind,
It’s always scuttling under your skin.

Look out.
Inside all the righteous folk shove their heads into their Bibles
And let their lips be the judgment stamp
Rather than look into the face of any inbred suffering. After all,
Did God ever dirty his hands?

No Dreamers can ever hope to live in a one-McDonald’s town
Where all the things worth doing are thirty miles down the highway.
Butterfly ambitions suffocate inside this fishbowl city,
And the flowering bud of a dream can’t find room to take root.

So look out,
Away from Preacher Bryan and his hellfire tongue,
Reminding God’s sheep to be small-minded.
Away from the neighbor’s children, neglected and abused,
Who had to learn how to carry grown-up hearts inside their little chests.
Away from all the people here who just never got their chance.

Inside hopes only settle like dust on the cracked sidewalk,
And people seed their insanity in their own backyards
While the small world they know bleeds into their soul
And pain begins to define living.

Look out.
Let your prayers pulse against the city limits.
Look out.
See an endless greater expanse beyond.
Look out
At the ambling sun-blistered Texas hills.
Look out!
Or the small-town mind might get you.

Abhisar Nulluri

You came in like a storm to the city,
The City that was lonely,
The City which had turned everyone against him.
The City which could never see the light of the day.

The day you came, I had ignored you!
Told you “ You’re “new” to my school”
And did everything to push you away.

3 years later,
When I was on the peak of the mountain.
About to fall off,
You were there, to hold my hand …..
before I fell into the darkest sea of sadness, You!
caught me and pulled me up!

Those last 18 months,
In the hottest summer,
In the coldest winter,
In the heaviest rain,
Was time well spent with you.
Walking for hours,
Travelling from place to place.

Even today when we are a million miles away,
No matter what time of the day it is,
We still make time for each other.
Talking like girls for hours and hours
Making each other laugh!

I thank you,
I thank you for keeping me away from the bad,
I thank you for not only pulling me out of the sewer I was in, but also clean me of all the filth on me
I thank you for not letting my lips touch the bitter alcohol,
I thank you for not losing you cool when i had lost mine,
I thank you for being my friend                                                           
And today that city shines brighter than the sun!

Alejandro Estrada aka TexMadeMex

"Lost Soul"
By: Alejandro Estrada aka TexMadeMex

Where you at homie. You gone physically cause you wanted that escape mentally. Where you at homie. I know the feeling Homie it's like trying to find a needle in a dark room.  I've felt that pain Homie  at night you can't sleep you a man but you scared. Ive felt The pain homie  you found the needle but I know you homie you don't need that. She only helps when her smoke invade your lungs then cloud your brain homie. You broken the pain is making you think you need her homie I know You can't fix broken glass so you stuck with the pieces and you keep it  deep in side like your dirty little secret it's cold in there long before you know you're heart freezes and the pain never seizes from days to counting seasons. I know you feel cursed but to reverse it you gotta muster up some courage not the courage in a rider nah a real test of courage I'm  referring to require I Now you feel lost at times but just close your eyes and listen to your heart.


Alex Shaw

i used to be a poet, i could write stanzas upon stanzas filled with imagery about the bubblegum pink skies and metaphor's about your voice that is hot coffee on a cold night.

i used to use words like dismal and furious, and i could tell you how i feel, but now the only words that form are the pathetic ones that are, "I'm sorry".

i used to be a walking dictionary, there are one million thirteen thousand nine hundred and thirteen words in the English language; words like sanctuary and epiphany and the only ones i seem to remember how to use are, "I'm sorry"

i used to to be a poet, but i can no longer spin the 26 letters of the alphabet around into some sappy love poem.

i am no longer a poet because i cant write about the similes hidden on your face or about your ocean eyes. all i can do is ask for my words back and say, "I'm sorry".

i want to be a poet again, i want to write about the astonishing sunrises that dont involve you and i want to write about the sparkling blue ocean. i don't want to write about you anymore. I don't want you to be my muse, i want you to give me back my words, please give them back. im not sorry.

//give them back\\  Alex shaw

Asia Deshay

It was 1787 when you became a new creation.
Meant to give us a way for health, safety, and security.
Flat and round shiny brown.
Tiny and worn to black.
Marked with symbols and figures of liberty and equality.
Only worth so little and comes in armies piled into vases.
Only used for emergencies.
Dropped into machines for something greater than you that is only in one single form.
Flipped for final choices.
Spun for our amusement, and turned into artificial gold.
Tossed into fountains for childish games and dreams.
Dropped in buckets for care and pity.
And left on streets and roads with false hopes of being saved from the cruelties of humanity.

Don’t you remember those times,
When they truly loved you?
When they really needed you to survive and thrive.
Dropped into cash registers for milk and bread.
Stashed into pockets for love and joy.
Seen as something instead of nothing and treated with more care and worth.
Now they want you to die.
Just like others like you.

Because you fill up their homes and make them want to cry.
But there are others that want to save you from death.
They love where you’ve been and where you began.
They love your markings and color
And love to see you every day.
As our own world grows, you have always stayed the same.
Soon your time will come to an end, but you will stay in our memories.
But in the end, it won’t matter, you won’t matter.
Because you are not meant to fly in the air to show everyone who we are.
You are not meant to be worn on our backs for protection and to revive our identities.
You are only meant to spend.
You were only meant to spent.
Now you are meant for decoration.
Because you are a penny.



💦Water Fountain🚿 (race poem)

The first time I drank from a water fountain is when I was three years old.
My entire class drank from the same one.
Didn't know it took 58 years before we could do that.
Water fountains
Water No sir emmet till was found in the water like that
I didn't know he couldn't breathe
No terrorists can't breathe while being water boarded
Water is everywhere and for everyone
Water is a freedom
Freedom is red white and blue
Except when they're are flashing behind you well not you me.
The boys in blue that steal freedom from me with a shiny badge
Water fountains are shiny
Like a bullet from a gun
The same that killed MLKs dream, well not just the dream.
A dream where water fountains aren't a paint by color.
A fountain can't have color
Because we painted them white
The absence of color
the mixture of colored light rays
Opposite of black
The mixture of all colors
The absence of light
Not on the same social level as white.
Black and White make gray
Gray is like silver
Sliver like a ring
Ring on a hand
Hands up don't shoot x3
Shoot It for me one timebap
Shoot it for me two times bap bap
Shoot it for me three times bap bap bap
Three strikes
Trayvon Martin
Arron Campbell
Oscar Grant
They're out. All gone. No freedom left
The freedom of our world is
Blinding justice
Binding liberty
Buying sex slaves
Burning an American flag
The American flag is freedom
Except when you hang it around my throat
I thought you were going to cut me down from the tree but instead you tied the knot and pulled
A knot in my stomach from the water
The water tastes bland.
Sandra bland
#If I die in police custody
I did not commit suicide
I was unarmed
I was innocent
Do not turn me into a statistic
Instead Lay me on a bed of cotton
That my people picked
So I know I'll die on my bloodline
stay away from the bloody water
Stay away from Water fountains

Cassie Jobman

First Trip to Walgreens with my Father

My father goes to Walgreens, everyday,
Without fail.
It’s always “something”.
Toilet paper, Advil, bugspray, cereal,
lint roller, hair ties, cat food, Diet Coke, oatmeal,
Prescription pick up, screwdriver, laundry detergent.
Shaving cream, hair spray, razor blade…
It’s always “something”

He spends his sunsets, wandering through the empty aisles.
Back and forth,
Back and forth,
Back and forth.

I am twelve years old.
It is my first time accompanying my father on his nightly adventure.
I watch him.

Aisle 1:
My father’s gaze is fixed.
Scanning each brand of fabric softener, top to bottom
Like models in a line, frozen smiles,
And my dad could have them all.
Rows of choice,
Contrary to the structured childhood he was raised in,
that he is still trying to escape from.
It will take him minutes to choose just one,
His eyes are searching.

Pass action figures, board games, jump ropes, and walkie talkies

Aisle 2:
My father brings a tentative hand out of pocket,
Shaking only slightly,
He glides calloused fingertips along the curves
of the dish liquid with an intimacy,
of a close friend, hinting at something more,
His eyes beg for a return of the affection:

Pass toothpaste, mouthwash, dental floss

Aisle 3:
My father is choosing cat food.
I sneak off into a shelter of t-shirts,
a game of hide-and-seek he doesn’t know we are playing.
My eager head pokes out from among the clothes, watching.
He is searching.
A worker approaches him,
“Do you need help finding something?”
On cue, I leap out from among the racks,
Climax of the act,
“Dad, I’m right here!”
His gaze does not shift from the cat food, choosing.
He says, “No thank you. I’m just looking,”

Pass diet coke, juice, milk, and smoothies

Aisle 4:
I stand at a distance,
watching from hidden view.
He is searching
Eyes dancing back and forth, back and forth.
Searching, searching, looking, looking, longing:
I run to him, “Dad! I’m right here! Dad, dad.”
His head does not turn.
I wonder if I am invisible.

Pass knitted hats and gloves, fuzzy socks

Aisle 5:
My father is not crazy.
He is not a shopaholic.
He is not a Walgreens fanatic.
He is lonely,
He is empty,
He is searching.

Pass happy families, rattling carts, conversation laughter

Aisle 6:
I can still see him in my mind,
as on that first day,
looking. With the fixed gaze, and shaking hand, dancing eyes.
And an eager me,
waiting to be found from among the racks,
waiting for my absence to be noticed,
waiting for my father’s looking eyes to settle when he looked upon me.
4 years later, I still utter the eager “Dad!” when I see him searching the aisles
But it has taken 4 years since to realize,
He was never searching for me.


Ciare Edwards

Dear momma
You are the youngest of all of your friends and now your 8-10year older friends are now calling about their first grand children when you already have 4

Dear momma
I wanna let you know that I have done everything in my life and in my power to be the great child that you never thought were never , not because u were horrible but because I want to make my own decisions

Dear momma
Don't regret me because you made the stupid decision of having sex with a man that made you 3/4 death in one of your ear and had another child with 4 years later not that I hate my brother or nothing I'm just saying

Dear momma
I'm sorry for being something better than what you attempted to be

Momma why put me in thus influential environment and not expect me to be just as selfish as you

Dear momma
Don't hate me for being nothing like you because you are to selfish to realize how much a like we are

Hate me because you failed to admit that you made a mistake with getting fucked with me instead having love made to you

Dear momma
Don't smoke your stress away when its only your fault because of the life that you have chose to live and the one you tell me not to

Dear momma
Deal with the fact that you might have mad a mistake but that you still love me

Dear momma
Accept me for who I am because I am the spitting image of you! 

Dear momma
Be the woman to me that you only portrait to others

Dear momma
Love me the way you convince people that u love me

Dear momma
Love me for my acne

Dear momma love me for my luxious thickness
Dear momma love me for me
Because of the fact that I would die for you

Dear momma
Love me because u want to not because I beg u and you are still too blindly selfish to see

Dear momma
Love me!

Elijah Lacy

I'm ok
Is what I said when the front of my non existent belly reached the hollowing canals of my protruding spine.
I'm ok
Is what I said when I looked like Brittany spears during one of her bulimic binges in the eyes of the mirror that was shattered by my unwieldy weight... I was way below average.
You're ok?
Is what they said when i looked paler then the porcelain plate we had ordered Chinese food on... well they had food on, it was a you don't pay, you don't eat type scenario.
You're ok?
Is what they said gawking at the amount of ribs I can count on my self without sucking in my breath, I counted all of them.
It's not ok
Is what they said When I looked like one of the stick figures they had drew in 5th grade and got an f on because it was malnourished I mean mistreated I mean misfed... it was too thin
It's not ok
Is what I said when I looked in my cupboards and saw sadness where there once was cheer...ios
In the pantry Where there once was wolf brand chilly and green beans and canned tuna and that weird can of meat that no body knows about because it was way in the back behind mountains of other canned foods is.... now void of population, empty is the description, desolate, the predisposition of my stomach contents.
I'm not ok
It's not ok

thanks for giving

me this chance to keep on living without having to fast for a living because it was starting to feel like i was giving my life away for stealing everything i could for a living.

it was getting hard out there for a minute, i was myself the next i knew i was to in it, my hunger pains me to the core for not having 4 meals a day, not 3 dollars to my name, not 2 licks of sense in my brain, not one thing i could say but.

thanks for giving me this meal, i praise the lord for this one crumb a day, and these 2 pieces of mc fillet, and those 3 bites i had the other day and the 4 times i was able to pray on my knees today for finding me a way to not struggle day to day for my sins, i repent, you must forgive, me for walking up that driveway, and breakin into they house just to see what they had in the fridge, i must keep my hands away, because i know i must not stray, because lord gon find a way, and all i need say is.

thanks for giving them this food, it looks really good wish i had some too, but you know what, i’m good, i’ll just walk by the hood and see if there is any black mama willing to pray something good for me to keep on keepin on, no need for drugs because i got my god on high and my faith on high but my hunger is on low though wish i had something to blow those feelings away like that hot steamy filling in that piece of pie they keep on dealing for 3.99 but only if God says it's time I will find my feast on a dime, though I sure could use one just so I can be 10 cents better off then my

nonsense so I can go run down to the nearest kitchen and say how much will this get me but all they do is give me is an empty hand so I clasp my hands together to my Lord and pray

thanks for giving, i've come a long way from my beginning and I think it's time to be giving back to the empty hands that was ridden of their last meal,

I gotta admit it was quite a steal, but for real now, I know you got a meal for me, How? Because I always knew you were looking out for me somehow and I say.

Thanks for giving


Friday Shabaz

Bad Boys                 

          🔥Bad Boys🔥

Love is crap
No I mean love is a game of craps

Good girls blow dice
but instead of sevens
look for heavens in men
Looking over halos and good grades because college boys aren't fun and engineering majors aren't entertaining

My bad boy wasn't fine like Chris brown, Trey Songz, August Alsina, Tumblr models
He was 6'5 with a vibe like no other
My bad boy was only bad when we were apart
My bad boy was sweet on me
but'll act a fool when he gets out in the streets
His true love
Pavement and hot blocks

Shout out to my mom for hating him before I did
Shout out to my teenage hormones for letting me down yet another time
I thank you

Dear bad boy,
I will try to change you
because on the outside you're jokes, switchblades and bottled up emotions
But on the inside you're hurt
You're sugarcane serenades on summer nights
Melodies, chivalry
and a mind

So I'll search your subconscious and break whatever is holding you back
I'll ignore your mask
You can call me a bitch sometimes
as long as you make me laugh
You can sell that stuff as long as you don't get caught

You don't know you make me cry a lot
But I know you can be good
bad boy

Good girls get served heartbreaks on paper plates
never a silver platter because bad boys don't do dirty dishes
Bad boys always seem good at first
Bad boys are good at apologies

Why are bad boys never attracted to bad girls?
End the Cycle of
bad boy hurts good girl
bad girl hurts good boy
bad boy hurts good girl

Halos fall off on sidewalks
next to broken clocks and faded virginities

Bad boys always know exactly what to say
They know all the magic words

Beautiful, Gorgeous
Never, Always
Us, Love

True colors can paint ugly pictures
framed by the naive and shallow
Costing more than any dollar

But a masterpiece
A masterpiece is priceless

Gabby E


I watched her climb into her rocket ship
Turn the key, and fly away without me
She promised she would take me with her.
Grab hold of me tightly and that we would fly away together.
I always knew she belonged to the universe.
In her before like she must have been a star,
Or a comet, or a rocket, maybe a planet, something of the sort.
She belonged to the universe and I had to understand that.

Sweet love, fly on your rocket ship
Leave the milky way and don't let any other galaxy stand in your way.
Just promise
You won't forget me
On your way
To becoming
With the universe.


Joann Yang


I spent days and days and days in front of the mirror,
     carefully mapping out features of delicacy in creation of breathtaking topography.
I spent nights and nights and nights learning about you on YouTube,
     the hours of sleep I offered at your altar slipping from my mind.
To be honest with you, I don’t remember the time we first met.
     you’ve been around on my lips for a very long time.
But I do perfectly remember when you first glided across my eyelids,
     the shaky steps and turns of your skates turning my eyes panda black.

My most blessed minutes ticked in rhythm with your magical chants,
     proud, sparkling smiles flashing from atop the hills of my cheekbones.
My most funereal moments trickled alongside your flowing tears,
     bitter black sobs mourning with me at the foot of my esteem’s deathbed.
Your iridescent pearl has showered me with endless opportunities, an ugly, worthless shell
     turned rare and valuable, one people will pay for, one that actually matters.

Your charming pearl has hardened me, a bloody, unyielding attempt to shield my treasure
     from blades of jealous and shameful words stabbing at my sides relentlessly, viciously.
Like Icarus’s wings, you carried me up and out of the crumbling Labyrinth,
     so close to the brilliant taste of blazing confidence
     that I forgot how hot the Sun was,

And when you began melting away on my back, I was plummeting into the ocean, and I was too afraid to imagine a life without you.

All I wanted to do was to love you,
     the very wings that give me life,

But you were also a drug I drowned myself in,
     and when I woke up to a splash, I found myself stranded on the same ocean abreast the Labyrinth,

And the Minotaur within me never quite stopped howling.


Yesterday, Esperanza didn't come to school.

Nobody said it but we all knew - she was gone like the other kids who got hollower and hollower until they disappeared one by one.

When I came home, I built a little big pebble tower to pray for her warm giggles, for her name she cherished the most because it meant "hope" in her mother's language.

With her, hunger never felt quite as rocky as the mountains we climbed in search of water. When the altitude was unbearable to endure alone, we would count for each other the sharp curves of our ribs like we would count the stars at night, pretending that it was a beautiful thing to count our burning hunger smoldered into innumerable dark days of empty stomach.

Today... I found Esperanza back at the same trash mound we always visited. Her limp body was strewn alongside scraps of food, the closest thing to heaven that her parents could offer. She really was gone.. the light I used to love left her eyes.

Without her, nothing feels the same anymore. Hungry nights can't be mended because I'm alone and she can no longer distract me from my stomach washing away its emptiness over and over with acids as strong as the famine I feel.

Her incandescence is only a sad star, fading away from my grasp.

Each day spent at war against hunger is a dying day without Esperanza fighting on my side. Everyday, it feels like there's a hole in my stomach that I can't fill up by stuffing all these mud cookies into my mouth, so how can people still tell me that hunger is a satiable thing?

Hunger is a monster, a nightmare that never ends.

And as long as this monster-like hunger persists within me,

Esperanza will never come back to school.


Julian Zepeda

Isn't it easy?

Is it that hard to walk by,
Walk by and smile to one another,
A good morning,
A hand shake,
A nice conversation,
To be good and respectful?
Isn't easier to laugh,
Make someone's day,
Just by a gesture,
A smile,
A good hug,
A hug that embraces the soul,
A hug that that fills the mind with good vibes pushing out the bad ones?
How come people walk by,
The one considered a friend walks by,
Only to cause pain.

Is it easier to walk by,
Walk by and SPIT in their face,Walk by tripping them,
Walking by,
With a gesture of hatred,
A high five,
Minus the index finger,
The pinky,
The ring finger,
The thumb,
Left with that finger,
Lifted up with all strength and courage,

A conversation starts,
Filled with hatred,
Filled with LIES!
Words that can never be taken back,
Words that will be stamped,
Straight on the forehead,
Onto the soul,
And I thought Satan was worse.

Why can the hatred be so strong?
Why is the word sorry not good enough?
How many times do I have to say it?
I'm sorry,
By text,
I'm sorry,
By me,
I'm sorry,
Again and again,
I'm sorry…
I'm sorry.
What else am I supposed to say?
You isolated yourself,
Not letting me come in.
I understand.
I hurt you.
But please tell me why?
You never told me.
What caused you such anger?
Such anger for you to scoop so low.
Such anger for you to go so low…
So low you were beneath hell,
So low for you to become a demon.
A demon that went around,
Passing by me like a dark shadow,
So quick I couldn't see what it was,
Spreading the disease,
The disease that was to the point,
It couldn't be stopped.
Walking by with my head low,
Not knowing what they will say,
If some got contagious,
If some actually still had their faith in me,
Free from the disease.

I know it's been too long,
Waaay too long,
I know,
From your perspective,
I am the bug you will step on,
The one you succeed with,
Success of your sweet victory!

I sat on the bench the other day,
I looked as the words,
Written by black,
There to let everyone know…
The shit head I was,
That no one cared about me as it read,
Those words that hurt me,
And now I know,
It is easier,
Easier to spread shit all over my face,
It was way easier,
Too easy,
I didn't know sorting things out,
Face to face!
Where both of US ACTUALLY SEES,
The same thing.
Was so hard,
Where we both shed one tear.
A tear that will sign our bond,
To stay true,
To be the ones,
That had the balls,
To talk eye to eye,
I'm sorry,
I forgive you,
As the tear drips off,
Making it official,
As that tear clears the black letters,
Left on the wall,
The tears that will heal the disease spread.

It's never been that way,
And it never will be that way,
It's easier to be the one spreading it!
Then the one healing it.
I never knew such a simple,
To solve a problem.
The words sorry no longer are the cure,
Like I've learned in biology,
By my wonderful teacher,
A virus has no cure,
No solution,
Only a solution to the symptoms,
But not the virus,
The virus is not alive,
No soul,
No nothing,
Just like the one spreading it.

Kharon March

I find you lingering about my thoughts more so then I'd like to verbally admit, like your fragmented essence upon the fabric with which my clothing is composed
like a puppy that strayed and lost the meaning of home I can not shake you, and on most days like that puppy I choose not to.
I feed your memory when it was better off starved, I cater to the past in the hopes of it mirroring the future.
I fell pray to your smile just as the creases and contours of your mouth fell victim to your cheek bones
you were once the most beautiful thing to have ever been caught within the spectrum of my gaze, until the water colors that defined you fled your skin giving way to clarity proving that the eyes are treacherous by nature.
And every night as the moon read bed time stories to sunlight I dreaded sleep, for know dream bore resemblance to my reality with you.
You who planted the seed we know as love and then neglected to tend the soil that harboured it once it bud,
leaving nothing but a mound of differed beauty in your wake.


Poem: The mechanical operations of a Puppet

The mechanical clockwork inside is struggling to break free from the cocoon of sensation
Beats of buzzing,
Clatter that ticks with static causing a stumbling puppet to dance
As the puppet dances on a thin line of perseverance, it watches the steps
Because if it makes a mistake it will fall into a room of glass that punctures his soul like the symphony of satan strikes drug attics
So as the puppet listens for the note that will make him fly, he considers his options of win or lose surprising the audience with a captivating flop of emptiness
As his strings are being tangled the puppet wants to keep performing for if he stops his world shall too
But the clockwork must continue and not shatter under the earth’s commotion
The puppet is silenced by the crowds muffling and he slips
Buffering like the videos on youtube the puppet’s shell becomes frozen
As the uproar settles, the momentum continues and the wooden figure is shaken with excitement
So the marionette throttles into a lovely sight and his shell is cracked
Wonderful mechanics fly around in his thoughts and then a breakthrough happens
The doll’s strings become lifeless pieces of his past existence and he soars higher than his performance has ever taken him
Higher than the strings have carried him
Higher than the crowd’s sounds of confusion, the puppet becomes a piano piano
But inside the miraculous manikin is a fortissimo ready to let the world know I’m here
Waiting for the mechanics to come back to rotate his life again


Why is Poetry Important?

Well Maya told me
Why the caged bird sings
And These fingers sing a woeful melody.
The unspoken sound
of the voice of my people
My outrage and fear
Stands strong in the guise of
The strength and courage
Of the voices in my head
They finally have a place
They have a sense of belonging
A sense of understanding
In a world that wants to clip your wings
A world of a coward
Fear to speak
Fear to stand
So superficial
Where was I?
When she called me
Claiming to be behind
bars ofrage.
I was too
misguided to
To move
But this Cambria font
Is a steel bar in a spineless vessel
Suddenly I’m endowed
These pixels are my
Wails into the great abyss
My syntactically decrepit Excalibur
Defeating demons
One letter at a time
Sweet relief as my worries and fears
Momentarily disappear with the
Incessant clicking of a keyboard
Reality may keep my feet bound
But it can not seal my voice
It may make me a coward
And weak
But as long as I have
These Selfish words
Conjured to bolster the
Thoughts of a narcissist
That I can scream
Create a great cacophony
That can ruin the sleep of
Any free bird
I will stand here
Do as you wish
Because I will always have
My source of hope
My Nirvana
My untouchable escape
And I hope the wind blows her
My sweet cleft notes from
My sinful serenade
Because why reality
Keeps me down
Poetry will always keep me up

Mi Mi

You write me to give your family closure when you take your life
But I can't help them forget the fact that you weren't happy
I help them realize the truth behind you shutting them out and remember you for who you were
The happy person who always helped out
Some people start off with
"I'm sorry"
After that comes an explanation
"I couldn't take it anymore it was too much to handle. I feel worthless"
Then a plea for forgiveness
"please don't be mad at me find it in your heart to forgive me"
I see the faces of so many beautiful and hopeful people who have cried over the worst things imaginable
The things I've seen can never be unseen
One misunderstood star wrote me about a week ago
She cut that night
Xs filled her arms and legs like a Tic Tac Toe board
Blood drip down her body like the tears on her face
Always hiding the scars from the game she plays every other night
She finally had enough while loading a gun with one bullet she cried
I fell
Then she fell
Her parents ran and with so much fear in their eyes
Fell to the floor beside her
Cradling in her body and calling for help
She's gone
You should have seen the signs
The things I've seen can never be unseen
A business man wore a suit everyday
But today was different
He didn't get out of bed for work
Later that day he took out a pen and a notepad wrote down his final words
Grabbed me and his keys
Drove to the top of a bridge
Left me taped to the rear view mirror
Climbed on to the ledge
Looked down then jumped
The things I've seen can never be unseen
The pageant Queen wrote me two days before she bought a rope
Set it up as she prayed
Then jumped
As I fluttered from her hand all I could see was every ounce of hope
Leave her face
The things I've seen can never be unseen
I wish I had a so I can close them out to watch every person who writes me kill themselves
I wish they would have crumbled me up and threw me away instead of throwing away their lives

Noe Funez

Forget your gold watch

Forget you gold watch you payed too much
You should be ashamed
Cause in the hood homies dreading when the seasons change
Cause they ain't got no heat
They ain't got no A/C
Walmart corporation fired my homie
And he just had a baby
A man can dream can't he
A man can breath can't he
So why we shooting
Seems like faith in humanity is what we losing
Yet you still try to choose what race is better than the other
Homie can't you see we all still human
You say all men are created equal seems like you step outside and it's a hand we deal
A death or life seal
Can't you see the weight of pain we feel
From death you'll never heal
Still think about that one day that to my head I put that steel
Think different
Change your mind
Before what you lose was the only thing you had that was actually real

Tell me why we still killing
Why we still shooting
The rich man takes the money
So we resort to stealing
7 shots fired another brother down
Let's move on
you go back to kill the officers now
Say it's racism so you think you have the right to takes a man's life
You ain't God Bruh
So why should I live my life how you tell me
Fix yourself and follow your dreams
No instead you sit at home just blowing trees
The government ties us down from head to feet
No! Break the chains yell out "we're free"
Your woman says baby and out the door you leave
How dare you say you're a man
When you got a family
Leave and make another 3
But I don't know
Just a kid
I bow my head go to sleep
Maybe just a dream
Cry out lord can you save me

But let's stop and gather our thoughts
How selfish are we
To tell others to help the lost ones
And we sit there to just watch
Think about all that money you got
Won't even stop to let a dime drop
We'll stay
And fight till our body rot
Another tombstone on a land plot
Let me stop before I say somthing that will quickly get me to the top
Keep your money
Keep your fame
Close your mind in that golden lock

Veronica Bool

Who I am
You ask me to tell you who I am and where I come from
But the words would leave you speechless
You'll be speechless if I told you
I come from a father who is deceased due to a gun shot wound to the head by his own hands
And a mother who's daily life consist of prescribed medication mixed with her own prescriptions of bottles and powders. funny colored pills and marijuana
I come from a
Good night daddy responded with a go to bed or I'll beat you 'till you bleed
Holding those words so close to me i never let go knowing there's people out there who could be mean
I come from being on knees scrubbing until its all clean being told it runs in my genes
Being in a corner so long the wall became my friend and provided abundance to me
Sitting on the living room couch holding my brothers close to me being an eye witness to a supposed to be father fist pound on the woman i called mother
I come from a place where my life has been in blue and black ink no erases and no end
I come from a mother running from sorrow and talking with a bull horn hoping someone anyone would hear
I come from a mother who got what she insisted she had and ran because she got the wrong order because when they came knocking They wore fine pressed linen with black brief cases
Leaving notes on the front door of what one would call a home
I come from being a front row witness of molestation keeping my head low and not being able to bear my own reflection
I come from witnessing abuse first hand as the one I called mom lost herself to herself
Throwing fist. pounding through walls teaching me to fly in the most unfashionable matter.
I come from a first suicide attemp of 1st grade standing in the stalls jumping to hang from a wall saved by the clothe that ripped and let me fall
I come from watching my mother collapse to her knees crying histerically when the woman she called mother took those funny colored pills and drowned in them all
Then I decided I didn't want to be like them I would make my own life
After that I still came from feeling the sting of a slap that made my head bounce of the walls and hearing bones crack and not accepting any of it at all
I come from a place of being different at age 12 when i decided happily ever after didn't need to be between a man and a lady because we are all human
She says she loves me but Doesn't she know when she said she failed at being a mother I failed at being a daughter
I come from a place where there's just no way this life can be me
So I come from a family of inappropriate relationships happening in front of my glance
They didnt know i knew their games
They sure as hell didn't know I played
Skipping over to the people in a room asking questions to get the truth
I come from being labeled a big mouth lier even though I told the truth
I was the innocent held captive by words not of wisdom but hatred jealousy and confusion
I come from waking at 4am to see the person that looked like me lay lifeless on the floor
Wake up I yelled but there was no response and being greatful because in a week he was healed and now stands tall
See but these words written aren't just for me because people out there have been here too
I had my turn
I had my turn at purple bruises and holding a battered heart
I played tick tack toe with a blade letting my blood flow
I swallowed those funny colored pills
I skipped meals
I drank the alcohol and wasted all that that time learning to fall when I could have stood and learned to be strong
Now I carry it all on my back in a sack pretending to be Santa clause smiling at the passer bys but crying in the night
I come from people in suits taking my brothers because I spoke the truth
I come from a new home getting used to hugs and smiles being told thank you and knowing what patience is
I come from a world that is silent because people will judge if I speak out so I take what I have and put duck tape over my mouth