Creative | Posted by Tiffany C on 05/4/2012

One Night Stand

Did she mention how I’m the girl of the moment?

Splashed across magazine cover pages like dripping acid from batteries

Radioactive toxic waste

How could you.

How could you.

Your bright blue eyes, cornflower blue—they said

He’s a gentleman and knows manners long dead

But you really weren’t; not at all what they said

Should I listen to them or the voices in my head?

Tell me this is wrong because it feels so right and I can’t think anymore

No end in sight

Your poisoned words so dark, so deep, penetrating their sickly message beneath

Smudged lipstick and weak resistance

And I’m not too sure what the truth is anymore

So when you tell your girlfriend the next day

Clock’s at 7; the minute hand set slightly off

Where

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Creative | Posted by Blue Rose on 03/30/2012

17

He’s inching closer ,
I’ve seen it before .
His lips ask love but his tongue says whore .

He caresses farther,
I am not there.
He kissed me back to my 8th year.

Momma just watches,
She kinda laughs.
Kevin is done so he strokes my calf.

I am defiled
I am dirt
I am handled
I am hurt

9 years later
A pawed up pet
I am not completely corrupted yet.

They can take my body,
And shatter my heart.
They can feed me lies,
And rip me apart.

They will grope every inch of me . I need it to feel whole
They will squeeze my being ,
But never molest my soul.

He’s inching closer,
I’ve seen it before.
His lips ask love but his tongue …

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Creative | Posted by Emaan M on 09/23/2011

Shame

Jane had pretty poetry
And hands the size of shoes
And swirling inky look-at-me tattoos
On the trophy shelves of her skin
And Jane never thought twice about you
And nor did she digress;
Don’t help me once, just hurt me
less
Yet in the eyes of everyone Jane was a trailer-worthy mess.
And some sweet girls they said things about Jane
How small and suffocating cotton would stick to her skin
How a boy with dark hair and slinky eyes
Boasted about the game and the win-
Yet no one ever seemed to whisper anything poisonous about him.
Friends, teachers, the
do-gooders and world-changers
Her righteous church-community youth leader
Would always have their little snickers of Jane
And that’s what drove her from church.
And no one ever had …

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Creative | Posted by Nicole T on 07/15/2011

The Dishwasher’s Daydream

The sink-washed dishes clap thunderously as you dry them

against one another, as if attempting to ignite a fire between

two friendly sticks. The result: a broken dish

or another proclamation that “This cup…plate…bowl is cracking.”

The washed skin on my hand is growing apart, like the leather on

a cow’s back, and it goes down the drain, and gets cozy with the debris

along with the blood that came from cleaning knives too quickly.

You scurry around the kitchen, telling me about your day

as you shove the dishes into their proper places. The plates go

above the larger plates, and ceramic cups go into a different cupboard

next to the other things that aren’t identical in size and shape.

And if I were a bowl, I would be …

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Creative | Posted by Talia on 07/1/2011

He Promised Her A Rose Garden

It was 1976.

Peak of the women’s lib movement.

New York, New York.

Peak of the peak.

She was going for a PhD in psych.

She could, thanks to Betty Friedan.

“After you finish your PhD,” he told her,

“We’ll move to Long Island.

Have three or four kids.

Buy a house.

With a white picket fence,

And a rose garden.”

She was nineteen.

She fell for it.

A week after the wedding

He got fired.

It wasn’t such a surprise.

Between the mental illness

Never showing up

And long sick leaves

It was just a matter of time.

“I won’t get a job immediately,” he told her.

You can type anywhere.

I have to do something important.

I have to have a career.

I’m the man of …

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Creative | Posted by Halee K on 06/24/2011

Feeling Beautiful

I can shoot lightning bolts from my fingertips

Poetry spouts like jewel-encrusted bullets

From my chapped lips

Soul shining like a beacon

Behind my eyes

Creating tiny worlds

With each sleepy sigh.

Beautiful is a fecund seed inside

Empowering all, despite the lies.

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Creative | Posted by Tesneem A on 06/17/2011

Sick

I’m sick and tired of you,

And I’m sick of the things you do,

I’m sick of the things you say,

And how you insist you have your own way,

For how can I forgive someone who can’t respect me and the choices I make,

A person who turns every rule I make into a rule to break?

My body is my temple and what happens to it is for me to decide,

And no, it is not just a matter of pride!

Shower me with all the sweet words you can say,

But I am not one you can easily sway,

You can try to make me cry out of guilt and sadness,

But it is all emotional blackmail I will not process.

Call me unlovable and stupid,

But …

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Creative | Posted by Tesneem A on 06/3/2011

My Anthem

I won’t follow your conventions; I’ll lead my own way,

And I will refuse to listen to those that say nay,

I’ll speak my mind and do whatever I like,

Whether you think I am wrong or right,

For who are you to judge me or the things I do,

When you have barely spoken to me for a second or two?

I’ll welcome your friendship with open arms,

Yes I’m kind and cool, don’t be alarmed!

But the day you treat me like dirt on the floor,

You’ll sling your hook, and there’s the door!

I am a person of value and high esteem,

No matter how anyone else tries to make me seem.

Bash me and bruise me if you dare,

I’ll still trust my convictions sans any …

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