random poem of fate

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Not Alone

Have you ever had to wear a mask? I have. To hide my emotions; to spare people from my problems. Have you ever had to hide behind clothes? I have. To hide my body; to keep to myself. Have you ever expressed yourself through music? I have. To hide my thoughts; to keep my mouth shut. Have you ever felt like you needed to stop hiding? I did. My mask has cracked, but still remains; my clothes are dark, but say, "Hello"; And my music is random, but does not seal my lips. I have been bullied and teased into my shell, but no more. I am not alone. Neither are you. 

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American Dream

 

The topic is my American Dream. And even though the flag of this great country is bedecked in red, white, and blue all I can see is green.  

I want to be rich.

Like Kim Kardashian after the sex tape rich. Like my British butler serves me French Toast in the morning rich. Like do you know who I am rich. Like I name my 16 adopted children after fruits, colors, and directions on a compass rich. Like I have a replica of the bat cave in Maui kind of rich. Like Oprah rich. Like I wanna be a billionaire so fricking bad rich. My house will be zombie apocalypse ready with barbed wire electric fences, bunkers, and machine guns rich. Like if I walk down the street naked, they’ll call me eccentric instead of crazy kind of rich. Ten DUI’S and a lawsuit rich. Like Michael Jackson Neverland Ranch Amusement Park in my backyard type rich. Like fake friends, fake ass, and fake nose kind of rich. Like tax evasion is my occupation type rich. Like getting high with Snoop Dogg on my yacht rich. Like Island hopping Maui, Bali, and Aruba rich. Like posing with crippled Third World Country children rich. Like offending leaders of foreign countries rich. Like tigers on a gold leash rich. Like monogrammed grill rich. Like racks on racks on racks rich. Like bitch better have my money rich. Like money can’t buy you class kind of rich. Like started from the bottom now I’m here rich. They say money talks, so I’m gonna spit my spirit, showering you with gifts that don’t have a return policy rich. Forget snow, this season I’m gonna make it rain kind of rich. Like put your money where your mouth is and see if it tastes as good as my four course meal with caviar kind of rich. Like my job is merely existing kind of rich. Like basic bitch, juicy couture tracksuit, grande chai tea latte with three pumps, skim milk, light water, no foam, daddy just bought me a new car rich. Like Gwen Stefani “If I was a rich girl” rich. Like rich girls don’t marry poor boys rich. Like, like money doesn’t buy happiness rich. Like more money more problems rich. Like I ain’t saying she a gold digger rich. Like bouncing, gold hatted lover rich. Like greenback rich. Like green jealousy rich. Like green light at the end of the dock, spend five years bootlegging and chasing bejeweled beauties, fade to black of a lonely funeral kind of rich.

Like don’t get caught up in this money masquerade, this affluent act, plentiful pretense kind of life rich. Because Only when the last tree has died and the last river been poisoned and the last fish been caught will we realise we cannot eat money.

Because I want to be happy. Like settle down with a few kids and give them the world kind of happy. Like explore all the possibilities that can be happy. Like marry a person who can fill in my blanks kind of happy. Like have friends with titanium backbones and eyes to hone in on how I’m feeling kind of happy. Like house just big enough to fill up with love kind of happy. Like travel the world to discover my roots happy. Like stake my claim to my unalienable rights, life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness kind of life.

Because that’s my American Dream.

 
This poem is about: 
Me
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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blackout completely

I wish ther was a blackout 

a blackout so I could write

with a white pen 

On a black peice of paper

looking at my brown skin-

counter cultural revolution

lookin' at my skin 

In the dark room an'

It don't phase me

darkness has been normal

Lately

 

Opposite of what it used to be...

When was it that dark equals evil?

When was it that my people equal evil?

when did white men

apologize

even white women did crime

 

wait! hold up

some of them regret their sins 

but if they really did regret 

KKK 

wouldn't still exist

 

Lord what have you of me 

allowing my people to live 

and without dignity

royals were we

royals we are 

Blacklout with black pride

the end, and amen

 

 

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If I was to express

Thu, 05/23/2013 - 08:05 -- Sheoyki

Location

39703
United States
33° 29' 45.3444" N, 88° 23' 0.1356" W

If I was to express Confess My talent to you Would you judge me? Or love me? What would you do? If I was to express My intelligence Magnificence Strive for success Would you listen? pay attention? Or brush me off like the rest. My talents are distinguish My future is God's promise If I was to express Confess My drive for success Would you listen? Pay attention... Be Honest?

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Going to College

Tue, 07/29/2014 - 20:30 -- Leoma

I don't want a beanbag chair.

I don't want a cork board.

I don't want Rachel cutting my hair.

I don't want to hear you snore.

 

I'd rather watch the sun go down

Or go out to dinner all alone.

I'd rather be in my new town

Than stay longer in my home.

 

I want to see a bright new smile

an open door

inviting door.

I want to see a bright new smile

no closing door

close the door.

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A True Friend

Down and out, nothing is right,

The worst day ever, mad at everything in sight.

The cruel things they do and mean things they say,

I hide my feelings and pretend I’m okay.

 

Some girls are just callous and spiteful and mean,

School can be tortuous, an uncomfortable scene.

Their words are like daggers, cutting my soul,

It makes my heart ache, as if I’m not whole.

 

I press-on through the day, watching the clock,

Finally I can leave, it’s 3 o’clock.

I sprint to the door and leave in haste,

Not a moment too soon or a minute to waste.

 

I walk home from school in need of fresh air,

My thoughts are racing, but I try not to care.

I sit in my room, dwelling in my sorrow,

In hopes a better day will come tomorrow.

 

As my door opens, I prepare for a fight,

But it’s my best friend with a smile so bright.

She approaches with plenty of chocolate and love,

A surprise from my angel sent from Heaven above.

 

My ray of sunshine, she brightens my mood,

The weight of the world is all but removed.

We laugh and laugh with tears in our eyes,

It makes our stomachs ache as we debunk the girls’ lies.

 

Although there’s no need and I feel whole again,

I ask her to stay since it’s already ten.

She complies joyfully as we cherish our time,

I’m her best friend, and she is mine.  

 

She’s a true friend who picking up when I’m down,

There’s so much love when she is around.

It warms my heart to know that on her I can depend,

My rock. My sunshine. My one true friend.

 

This poem is about: 
Me

Comments

Orpheus

darling—

i almost made it out
the house
down the slanted
concrete
steps
i nearly passed the garden gate
with tired
ivy
crawlers
for a moment i thought i was free
no ghosts
no ashen memories—
But bags in hand i couldn't help
and took
a glance
behind.

This poem is about: 
Me
Our world

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For Whoever Can't (Stop) and Whoever Won't (Stop)

Sat, 08/03/2013 - 21:09 -- LMWargo

For those kids without mothers, the brothers with no brothers.

For those people judged on sidewalks by passing kangaroos

All tied up by metallic vinyl cages on man's invention

Man's inventions of a litetime - several lifetimes.

Several million                                      lifetimes.

Every single time.

For the conservation of the masses plus all of their massive

   anchors in the lines that go nowhere where they were supposed to be.

For those babies without comfort, dears that don't deserve hurt.

For those without voices, without pants and with no sure

    way to satisfy and be satisfied day by

Day. 

 

For those without the perks or the works, 

even the jerks

Deserve some freedoms, some rights in defense

against what hurts.

No one deserves to hurt nor have the priveledge

To put others to work

against their Wills. 

 

For those without a place to eat, who can't afford to sleep. 

Always hounded by the world, lord, their brother's keep

Them.

They spend it all before they fall,

All on a mess of clouds to take them home, strange home.

All in a day's work-a-holic's children's hearts,

so starved

for attention           and for voices.

 

Not the voices of memories but those of the future.

Not those of the past, but heard today.

The kind that bring love and compassion and confidence.

Truth and sincerity, trust and prosperity. 

Run from the jackals and tear off the shackles.

Live every day your own special way,

keep those voices at bay, unless heard today.

 

For the walkers and the runners, the talkers and the gunners.

For victims of silence, kindness, and mercy.

For those who sell themselves short by a hard nights' work.

All battered and beaten, bruised and mistaken

for shadows of themselves. 

 

For those with no way to say what needs saying,

to play without praying

to this game's mighty soirre.

For all of the above and everything, any  way.

For you, I write a little bit     down each day.

 

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Tool of Love

Mon, 07/29/2013 - 15:25 -- hhsalex

Distance- a motivating tool

To conquer the hardships of love

And make it over-rule;

Though many miles apart

The key to the heart

Consists of a Christian faith

To feel the warmth of embrace

And create a beautiful face

Of what loves desire makes.

To overcome the depth of longing

And to oversee the hurt of missing;

Love is forever encompassing

No matter the distance withholding.

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Good Girl

No one wants to see the good girl die
So they turn their heads when they hear her cry
So when she looks to the sky and begs to know why
They look away
Knowing she won’t live to see the day when the answers are clear.
No one wants to see the good girl die.

When the good girl disappears
All that knew her will finally see
The good girl wasn’t there at all
She was lost in the world of lies
Confused who was on her side
And who just wanted to ride.
Turning to things that make it clear
Letting others use her

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