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if a poet falls in
love with you be
prepared to be
written about

in every possible way
from the way your eyes
sparkle under the moon

to how your lips form
that ever-so perfect smile
it’s the little things that
poets write about

the little things about you
makes a poet want to write
and write until their hand breaks
him
he pinned me up
against the wall
and kissed me

i asked “why the wall?”

he smirked and said
“because art belongs
on walls”
based off a book I read
art
pin me up against
the wall and show
the world your
masterpiece
humans are a work of art
her
she’s the type
of girl to
grind your
heart into little
pieces and roll it
then smoke it
right in front of you
yet another poem about my ex best friend
this world is
falling apart
terror is
everywhere

natural disasters
striking every other
day it seems like

kids bringing guns
to school where they
are supposed to learn

old men shooting up
music festivals leaving
50 dead and 500 wounded

police killing innocent
black lives who are
doing nothing but
living their lives

im so sick of it
this is not my world
trump is not my president

this is not the world
im going to raise my
unborn children in

i refuse to live in
a world where
terror is everywhere

i just want to feel
safe without having
to worry about if
im going to
survive another day
my thoughts on what is going on in the world right now
 Oct 2017 galaxy of myths
Z
Here’s to the boy
who waited for a girl
on his front door step
until she came home
after leaving without sound

Here’s to the girl
who has to hide her urges
behind a glass door
the strength to put down the razor
after shaving her legs

Here’s to the girl
who receives deluded comments
on the length of her skirt
from her own mother

Here’s to the boy
who didn’t have a father growing up
but is teased
because he’s more comfortable being friends with girls

Here’s to the girl
who finds solace
in people who are temporary

Here’s to the boy
that doesn’t feel safe
in his own home

Here’s to all the kids
who have been told it is wrong to feel
the way they feel
like our emotions are fishhooks
that need to be
reeled in

Here’s to you
Here’s to me
Here’s to anyone who has ever had
their heart crushed beneath the heel
of someone they loved

You are loved
You are important
You’ve made it this far
and you can make it even farther
have strength
and

Here’s to you
his dark black hair
reminded her of
the beautiful night sky

his large pink lips
reminded her of
freshly picked roses

she is so in love with him
and he has absolutely
no idea at all
yet another poem about my coworker who is also my crush
(explicit)

**** my soul
        with poetry
           scream out my gracious name
             slay me with words
               that peel my layers
                and simultaneously
                                   drive me
                                           insane

finger me slowly, hotly
with just the right rhythm and rhyme
    push me past my
                 tender limits
                       into tongues of syntax,
                                                      sublime

a­lliterate my senses
   (in swift stac
                    c-at
                           o)
until my mind is but blank verse
    mess up my stressed
              and unstressed syllables
in unsung language, versed

I will speak to you in vowels
(the only sound
       I will be able to make)
as you stroke
   my iambic pentameter
             in the heat of frothed-up
                                                     ache

we are this heroic couplet, you see
        even if the meaning seems veiled
           no need for simile or metaphor
               as I feel your chest rise
                              in deep inhale

we are a natural paradox
       so many ironies abound
         discordant harmony
is our synaesthesia
     in visible darkness found

and I love this delicious enjambment
as your aura invisibly slips
                               into mine
our lines have no beginning,
                                 no end
    as we undo
          the boundaries
                      of time
Explicit!
synaesthesia-The production of a sense impression relating to one sense or part of the body by stimulation of another sense or part of the body.

en·jamb·ment
inˈjambmənt,enˈjam(b)mənt/שלח
noun
(in verse) the continuation of a sentence without a pause beyond the end of a line, couplet, or stanza.
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