What I Wanna Be When I Grow Up Part 1

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By DR

When I enter pre-school I remember, all the rules
ABCs and 123 sleep time but while the teacher reads
Itsy Bitsy Spider, for me
When the rain of home the next day the sun dries me
Seems like the only cap and gown I seen
Watching my life on this widescreen
The household struggles took away my dream
Moved from the projects, what did it cost me?
A school of learning, I was a bumblebee
But the family grew, needed more room
Didn’t know welfare was everybody’s dreams
To the second stage, if my theme getting beat up became an outside thing
So I couldn’t focus on being a king
I went to neighbor to neighbor to learn different things
Looking at God’s nature, the stray things I knew since I was the only
I hear owls (sing) that I have to keep seeing things
That’s not what I wanted to be when I grew up
Sometimes I don’t think I’ll ever grow up
I still pray every day to what I wanna be when I grow up
But just in case I don’t show up
He bless (his children) to play
Be safe and grow up
(No matter what color in your cup)
Or what’s your family luck
Just say, your prayers when you get stuck and they will show up…

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Isolation

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By AS

Trapped inside your own mind,
no human contact takes a toll in time.
Have seen many lose their mind;
but to some only the strong survive

It affects many differently,
but all mentally and physically.
It’s not a place for a human being;
either animals have time to roam.
Being caged in like endangered species is not for any

I witness this isolation;
I live in this isolation;
Taking one day at a time
while occupying your time is the mentality of many.

As one focus on life they grow in time and
with every hardship comes ease and in the
end one will free his mind

Peace

AS wrote this while in solitary confinement.

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End of the Road

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By TG

3:30 in the morning
not a soul in sight.
The prisons like a ghost town
when the guards turn off the lights.

Teardrops only tattoos
there’s no crying for my sins.
I’m heading back to somewhere
I said I’ll never go again.
end of the road
end of the road

End of the road
like the end of life
you feel yourself
grow cold the
more days go by
and you say goodbye
to all you know
and so you part
end of the road.

You don’t feel like a man
when they tell you to strip down.
Open your mouth
bend over
squat, cough
and turn around.
Jumpsuit and a bedroll
and a number for your name
white, black, rich, or poor
you are treated all the same.
end of the road
end of the road

End of the road
like the end of life
you feel yourself
grow cold the
more days go by
and you say goodbye
to all you know
and so you part
end of the road.

You never really adjusted
and it shows deep in your eyes.
Doing things you’re ashamed of
just to make sure you survive.
And just like winter storms
the rain can turn to snow
and the lightning flashes
could save lives
for those at the end of the road.…

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Dogfriend

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By MH

I never spoke two words to you
Yet you love me
I didn’t have to ask, however
You gave me my name
Even the place you live called home
I’m able to live just the same
I’m even cool that you always dominate our exchange
I have to feed off of you
When you’re happy, I’m ecstatic
When you’re angry, I’m mad
When you’re down, I can’t help but feel sad
I move off of you and obey your commands
One-way communication since I can’t speak
But all your words I understand
Could you ask for a better friend?…

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Untitled

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By VB

I came from nothing
or so they claim.
But something from nothing
is outrageous.
You need
at least
a lil’ bit
to make
anything.
I’m here to stay,
forever I’ll remain
a Free Mind,
Open Heart.
My actions
you won’t dictate.…

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shayarisms4lovers June18 54 - Platforms

Platforms

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By JK

Platforms and I’m not talking about the shoes,
I’m writing about the people speaking who don’t have a clue

Platforms that were built on my L4 and L5,
giving me chronic back pain from all the verbal jive

Let’s expand on this privilege, the subject at hand,
this platform of yours where you make your grandstand

So absorbed in your spot that you place others in the dark,
never even a thought to appreciate their written art

What is an effort if not the effort to simply write,
judgmental of creativity where comes your insight

In the sixteen-hundreds, the rave was the selling of slaves,
all carried out on high from the platforms that was raised

A jumble of words is all that we saw,
yet 3/5ths of a man was written constitutional law

Words are intentions behind inventions
so next time you’re on that platform…

before I was
and after I am……

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shayarisms4lovers June18 259 - Upside Down Moments | A Poem by P.K. Deb

Upside Down Moments | A Poem by P.K. Deb

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Ever-biting alcoholic molecules are poured in a glass
As a fool rides on his self-made upside down moments
Of hesitation and tension, he is not to be conscious
The memories are to be suspended for which he laments.

As the colourful glass is lifted near to his lips to sip
Heart becomes scared and raises its palpitation,
Nevertheless, alcohol is poured in to the deep
Of his mouth to suffer its biting with no hesitation.

The poor tongue and its mouth-mates shrivel in ache
Start weeping for help and instant relief,
Ignoring it behind alcohol reaches to stomach
With liquid fire and fills it with pain and grief.

The courageous and helpful blood cells attend in hurry
Start absorbing the poisonous molecules and pain
Stomach gets both relief and stain of alcoholic injury
But the blood cells rush as the biting they also gain.

Heart, liver, pancreas and kidney-the life organs
Become restless as alcohol bites them with stain
Hence, abnormal they become in their performance
And all together push the blood up to the brain.

For the locks of all organs, the brain is the master key
Gets extra- pressure as the blood waves rush to it
Becomes very scared and escapes to the knee
For normal duty where it is absolutely unfit.

Hence it produces illusions and sends to the fool
Makes him happy as the weeping was unheard
Composes a temporary heaven with his alcoholic tool
And becomes flexible physically and mentally smart.

Heart snatches excessive emotions from the brain
So the fool laughs, cries and roars with no grammar
The same lunatic process continues again and again,
Makes him unconscious as the brain gets a hammer.

No one is allowed to disturb him, even the dream
only flies are around his face, landing and flying,
May God bless him and bring him to the right-stream
as he is supposed to support his family from destroying.…

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Forgotten Wings

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By MS

Forgotten wings
Disused & abandoned
Tricked self into believing that you (we) couldn’t fly
World weary… head heavy
Barely sleeping
Fitfully resting my eyes
Dazed

Does this pass for dreaming
I can feel the wind on my face
Eyes – wide open
I can see these wings carrying me to the other side…

At second glance, I realize that I am dreaming
It wasn’t me soaring
Dis-used & abandoned
Seeking the courage to spread my wings
And fly on forgotten wings…

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Solve for R

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Too far it seemed. Until it wasn’t. The slope of distance in the creases of my gaze. As the pavement melted under my feet. Life relenting to my pace.

the cripple of expectation gone. the simmer of want evaporating. nothing but the road to focus on.

little dolls in their stubborn dresses. counting the colors as they disappear.

Too loud. The sound of waiting. For things to change.

there was no itinerary. no destination. just the searching for somewhere to go. our voices razorblades. all our  words cut to pieces.

the euphoria of flesh. all buckles and zippers chaffing open. the hysteria of skin too swift. a furious sprint. when so many miles still lie ahead.…

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Threading the Needle Loudly

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talk to the grey. argue with the yellow. all the colors have their voices. all the moments have their architects. in the sober of when. in the high of maybe. we run our razors over tomorrow’s skin and wait for the vein to open.

it’s just a bridge. a way over the terminal abyss. it’s just a path. a route from the beginning to the end. as if such markers can indicate where we are.

tell the rain it need not fall. gravity will gladly compensate. tell the sun it need not rise. one day is more than enough.

there is no epiphany in the caliber of our flesh. the light flickers. we awaken. to the tremors of our expectation. petals on the flower. succumbing to the wind. raindrops on the glass. selling the storm in discarded wishes.

like dominoes, the years tumble. inertia is all we have as the distance between us deepens.

we’re just cardboard limbs and paper hearts.

when the rain decides to fall.

we’re helpless. …

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Tailwinds

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we gambled the sun. on wooden bridges and missing magicians. the illusion broke. the distance loud. as we listened for home. paper salamanders chasing plastic worms. in the spaces where we left the words out.

answers came and went. none of them stuck.

our voices melting ice. our fingers fraying ropes. as gravity yawned. and we fell softly. into the meat of the storm. arrogant with skin to barter. convinced of its wealth.

we ran to the music of want. stabbing at time with blunt knives.

we sold the math. still feeding trust’s empty engine. long after it had died.…

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The Untold Story of Me

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By AC

Inspired by the book Voces Sin Fronteras (Shout Mouse Press)

1985 I was born in El Salvador, right in the middle of a civil war. There was a lot of crime and poverty, because there were more pressing things for the government to worry about.

1991 A few months after my father left for the United States, my brother was born. Amazing brother. We kept fighting all the time, but he has always been there for me. My friend for life, though he sucks.

2000 We (my brother, my mom and I) came to the U.S. It was hard to get the hang of it (I might argue that I never truly did get the hang of it), but I managed. Life changed dramatically, mostly for the better.

2004 I graduated from high school. It felt like a stepping stone, but continuing education was a bit tricky with my immigration status. Also, that year my other brother (half) was born. I love him tons, as I do the other.

2010 After almost ten years of being in this country, I was allowed to get a residency. My doors opened wide and I started to make money at 8-hours-a-day jobs. Everything looked bright.

2012 A dark cloud came over my bright world. A series of bad decisions in my life led to my arrest this year, effectively destroying absolutely everything that had happened in my life up to this particular point in time.

2017-18 After thinking I had lost my VOICE, along with everything else due to my arrest, I discovered I still have a voice, even if my life as I knew it is effectively over. I discovered this in a Write Night letter, in some person’s comment that read something along the lines of : “A.C., I enjoyed your poem. I relate to [such and such a thing]. I liked [this and that]. Thank you for sharing, please keep writing.” I thought to myself: “People actually read these poems that A CRIMINAL has written? Someone read MY poem?” Not only were they reading it, they were relating. They were getting some sort of consolation from me, knowing that they were not the only people in this world to have these thoughts. That thought. They felt that in a way, my writing was helping them remember/realize that they were, in fact, not alone with their thoughts. “Wait, what? …

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Freedom’s Jest

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the years bit down. sharp fangs in tender bones. we hung onto the math. surviving on the persistence of skin. the resilient stretch. the hungry spoil. the defeated give. as it bends and tears to finally let us in.

the windows shudder. moan. with the mercies of the sun. the hill swallows us. in gravity’s massive fist.

we were small once. delicate. until we grew into our grief. slender stalks crippled by the weight of their hope.

the end was quiet. as our time machine broke down. the highway was dark. as we pretended to know where we had been.

places. knots in the thread. cages left open. prisons we wish we’d never left.…

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