by DANIEL

Poetry. Poetry. Say that word one more time.
Poetry it is an extension of me…
Who knows without poetry
I might even cease to be.
It never makes fun of me it never teases
It is as gentle and as soft as I want it to be.
Or it could be mean and mad it’s all up to me.
The words that were written are thus now spoken
When I write, I write for freedom not just for me
but for all the other dreaming children out here
I take this seriously it might as well be severe.
Ears full of negativity, that’s all it seems to be
A lot of times you just have to sit and flow
What’s great about poetry is you determine when you go.
Be creative, goofy, think outside the box…
1234 look at the fox.
Never listen to the haters they are everywhere…
Some are your friends
Yes sad but this I swear.
The ones that are hating are usually hating on me
but I pay them no mind thus their claims are not benevolent,
they act out of ignorance which makes them irrelevant

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by A.J. & SHAWN

Great lakes splashing colorful mists below me.
Boats steaming rapidly smell like oysters,
fresh from bathtubs where I pass cups of saltwater
over outstretched lips, chapped, thirsty.
Forever dry, the pillows floating like capsules of
aspirin throughout constant prayer, filtering extremely emotional
fists against specific penitents.
Bubble pops, reality kicks – you’re contagious with
your beautifully ugly self-esteem
leading your unstoppable growth;
it’s scary with fragile arms broken, bent, and hurt.
Mood swings dropping lightly like antennae – no signal –
balanced between fingertips gripping
yesterday’s throat.
Crystalline, that’s my fruit punch.
Emotional dinosaurs soar over the lagoon;
I stare up –
brightly colored stars – they’re so beautiful
that I begin to remember you in harsh memories
that I try to bury alive but it keeps connecting with the horrible memories.
Stuffed bunnies, recycled trash, and tough love
spreads like roaches eating peanut-shaped sweets,
physical darlings scattering abundantly.
Clangers clang.
Kaboom.

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by CURTIS

Let’s go outside me and you,
When the sky is so bright and oh so blue
Like a patient lying on the table.
Me and you could walk through vacant streets,
Emptying our minds of the tiring past weeks,
Spending nights at bad hotels,
Eating at restaurants with oyster-shells,
Going through repetitive roads with bad intentions
To lead you curious of possible extensions
Asking “What was it?”
And the curiosity leads to you taking a visit.

The fog that stealthily sneaks upon windows.
The smoke with a muzzle in camouflage as the wind blows,
Acting as Santa going down the chimney,
Dancing its way down like it’s doing the shimmy,
And now it sees it’s a beautiful October night
So now it’s having sweet dreams in the clouds flying like a kite.

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by ZURI

My eyes are fogged from frosted rain.
My soul is like a polluted lake,
water like poison to those that drink.
You step up like a lost angel, step in and you will sink.
Your thoughts are abandoned,
like a foster child.
I can’t save you, it’s like your lost is the wild. My mind.
As you go deeper you start to think,
“Like, what am I looking for?”
But I swear if you dig deeper you’ll see.
I have something to give,
just get lost in me.
You wouldn’t believe all the stuff we could be.
Please…just give me the chance to be the real me.

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by KYLA

Yo. Chillin with the bros ya’ll.
Exclusive Ink got swag ya’ll. Oh,
You know the beezniz. Like
A waft on a crystalime. OMG Like
The chime on it’s Twilight. Be gone!

I lyk it coo and crunchy. Like ice!
Shawty and I are bros, lyk
The LOL and Aerpostale clothes.

Nothin’ milky about this rap.
Comin’ in like honey graham cracker–
Sweetness on total steroids!
My kittens munchin catnip,
My bros high on swag. My
Man gone. Yolo mad. We’re Charlie’s
Angels in bootylicious free throws,
Like the badonkadonk in sausage smokes.

Oh, this phantom of shadowy disguise, never knowin’ when
A funeral is to arise. Like a performed
Laundry mat to promote Obama
In a tremulous stage to put down
Osama. Glistening like the bling on a full moon. To see the light again would
Be too soon. Mindblown like a
Poor aristocrat. It would be an enchantment to be that.
I don’t need motivation cause all this grace is just imagination.

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