Lust

do you feel that intensity? Can you feel it creeping up your leg and falling down your shirt? Can you smell the sweat of two bodies intertwining, rolling around in what was the past, and might just be the future? If only I knew how intense this would be. How intense my sexual desires could be and how much lust could consume me. Is it okay to have such a sexual desire, to crave another human beings body and touch? I guess that's just what lust means. It means intense sexual desire or appetite, and when your bodies fit perfectly like spoons you start to believe that you can't communicate without moans. I'm hungry for the heat, sweat, and kisses and I want it all the time, I just want it! I need it... It fills me up and sends me into an orgasmic state of mind. I mean why would such a feeling be invented if we weren't suppose to feel it to the fullest? How could lust be a seven deadly sin when it can make you feel so alive? That sexual desire that lust its wonderful I think you all should try it. But no wait, maybe you shouldn’t try it because it can be your addiction, I know its my addiction. I let it get to the point where I let the absence of it dictate my moods, it dictates who I am and am not attracted to. I never stopped to realize that I am a none factor in the life of the person who's body fits so perfectly with mine. But I thought it was okay because I’m talking to them for the same reason that they are talking to me,(pause) lust. I should have realized that its only lust when the other person is so comfortable with tweeting about their sexual encounters. Anything that is so public and organized is nothing that I should want to be apart of. True love is crazy and unexpected, you don’t need to save dates and see who's house will be empty for the day, so that all you can do is lay in the bed with this certain someone while facing opposite directions, because we should be able to face the same direction while you're holding me from the back, not while having your back facing me and texting the person you really love.

Statement:

I wrote this piece last school year, while in a drama elective. Although I wrote this last year I think it shows growth, because if this was compared to my most recent writing it would show that I'm more aware of my feelings, and how I sound when I write. I think it's good to reflect on past work, it helps you move forward and understand how to get to the next step. This piece is engaging because it 's about a topic that everyone knows about for the most part, and its very descriptive.

Blues

Blue pool of used shoes that walked all over me,
Tall fools with blue shoes that stalked me.
Waters of used yous, and who's who.
Crayola crayons color me in with no shoes.
Maybe I am see through, backgrounds filled with baby blues
Skies back drop, fills in lines and you too.
Blues clue, empty shoes.
Moods play you to the tapping feet, jokes of me and you
her and them too.
Help me understand your cool blues.
Book covers with used tools,
Tools used in the blue print of you.
Blue print, shoe print, never knew you print until I saw you on the street.
Street feet, me beep at your blue colored shoes.
Shoelaces tie me up, forcing me to walk in those blue shoes.
Blue shoes, me glued into being you.
You died I cried so now I'm stuck in being you.
Blue fools forced me into being you.
Now I walk and I stalk in your blue shoes, now I live in those blue pools.
Magic marker color in darker so now I'm really stuck
Very toxic not washable so now my skin is blue.
My tongue is sore for I have tasted the world as if I were you.
I should have known that I could get the blue from you.

Statement:
 While writing this piece I wanted to really play around with sounds and words, and I think I was able to do that. I have a really good time reading this to myself, it sounds really good and it feels really good to say. I also I wrote this piece right on the spot without going back and editing it normally I revise the things I write over and over again. Normally I also point out exactly what I'm talking about in the the things that I write but I think in this, people have to really bring personal experience, and common sense in while reading it to understand the "blues". I feel Like this is sweet and to the point, and I find those kind of pieces pretty nice because those make you think more.

Play wright

Act one scene me.
Line L.O.V.E
You played me well.
You know every syllable that sounded me.
Clap it out, you defined me as if you dictonary.com-ed me and I find it funny because I thought I was the author of this play.
And although I gave you your leading role, you found a way to hold auditions any way.
But you're directing it, and even though I wrote the script I don't have it memorized.
you told me to go stage right, while you went stage left me.
And what is the setting?
In the palm of your hand.
You placed me between every letter so even when you sound it out, you can say you wrote me better.
I'm starting to think you co-wrote this play because there are bigger words placed,
Than the actions you say.
You show no movement, because you're the kind of actor that acts without moving.
I'm sure you know your lines.
You know me better than I do.
Act one scene you.
Lines fool me once shame on you.
Its time for the curtains to close because this production is beyond closing.
Its possible to rent a place without owning,
and this space will only hold your performance a little while longer.
This town is disowning you.
I hope you can go on acting as if nothing ever happened, but you should know my love was never scripted.
For I was truly addicted to you.
You deserve a round of applause, better yet a standing ovation,
but when you have another casting call you should know I won't be auditioning.


Statement: I don't know how to say this piece is creative. I feel as though that the fact that I created it, is creative enough and should stand on it's own. It's creative because I continuously put pieces out there for others to read. I think this poem is engaging because I talk about how my relationship with this certain person is pretty much a performance, and the fact that I talk about it in a poem which is meant to be performed it's kind of funny. It's engaging because it's real. This piece shows growth because I'm able to put the same situation and feelings into different spaces. I can talk about this one relationship forever and a day because I mean it fills up my head. It's the topic of choice, so I can get it out my head.

Jamie

I sit and watch my poster fall off the wall and along with it comes the paint, that reveals a egg shell color which tells a story about the person before me, a girl who was once a boy who has on make up to cover all the flaws when he was born into James, but that’s another story.

While that paint is coming off I sit and watch my poster, I forget James because I don’t know him but the truth is I already met him because his paint tells a story of homosexuality, broke up and mixed like a Michael Jackson story.

But he cries out to me and tells me to fix the walls with cracks that his daddy made to make him fall, but I don’t hear him because I’m too stupid to see that Jamie was once James anybody can change with surgery or just their mind nothing is wrong with their story.

Jame, james, james i am not james he said i am jamie. J.A.M.I.E I'm a girl not a boy do you hear me? James, james, james, stop even though I'm now a girl god still loves me, can't you see? see the jamie with in me?

As the paint peels off I watch like police watched those homophobes kill him in all their glory like a lion in the jungle, with the blood dripping from their lips like Jamie wasn’t a real person, but see the problem wasn’t him, it was them they say Jamie committed a sin but the truth is killing another human-being just because of their sexual orientation doesn’t make you god, but it makes you the devil for ripping him up and spitting him out like a piece of dirt on a Sunday morning.

James just wanted to be Jamie not your brother, sister or lover but just women with a penis with her head held up high despite people who call her names and beat her down just like Marco from Degrassi.

But it’s okay because I’m going to fix that paint and fix the crack that his daddy made for I am just like Jamie, my name is homo and I am very sexual so come face me and stop being a coward for I’m not ashamed of who I am your just ashamed of what you can’t be and thats the Jamie that lives with in me.

Razor Sharp

I wear them like it's in fashion.
These things are my clothing I hang all this crap up in my closet.
I have one for everyday of the week, and believe me when the year is over I will have some leftover.
The purples, reds, and blues go great with my eyes, the colors best compliment me right before my tears drop and dries on my open wound.
These things breathe another life, that lives through every razor sharp touch.
I like to dress them up.
Pretending as if I fell, as if something scratched me, but it was me who did it.
I did it.
I like escaping in these things called cuts
bleeding with these cuts
forgetting with for a moment with these cuts, that maybe my life isn't this life that I'm living.
I'm living through these cuts
I feed through these cuts
I make up with these cuts, they are my cover for the crap I'm going through.
I may need some new skin too because this flesh is all torn up and blue.
But I wear it so well you wanna wear these blue arms too? Wanna pretend like you know what I"m going through?
You can't possibly understand because you can't wear it as well as I do.
I match my pain so well with these colors but at the end of the day when its over I cover
I can't have you looking at my colors, you'll judge because you can't afford.
Monday I wear the red
Tuesday I wear the pinks
and Wednesday are the best day for purples
Thursdays I love to wear my blues
and Friday it only bruise
but my Saturday and Sunday I'm finding a new razor to use because last weeks razor is this weeks old news.
I like to cut up because I have no more room in my closet.
If you know me so well how about you hang it up?

Statement:
This piece shows creativity because I use imagery to draw a picture for the reader. I use colors, and days of the week to express the situation which all people can relate to.
It engaging because in the beginning I don't say what exactly I'm talking about, so it makes the reader want to read on and understand the situations.
This piece shows growth because I'm talking about a topic that I've only heard about, and haven't gone through it myself so I'm trying to put myself in someone else's shoes.

Words don't add up

we has always been my favorite word, but I as in you has always been your favorite word. All this time it has been we as in me trying to make things work, and we as in not you have been getting tired of all this work that I’ve had to put in. I mean where have you been in all this we? We don’t work because you are selfish. I mean how can me and you be a we if you’re always so worried about the I, as in I’m stupid for not knowing the right point of view. We’re collective, we are one, we are together, but I’m fine being singular, if we can’t make this plural thing work, because soon we will be you alone thinking of me and of how we are no longer. I wish we... see right there is where the problem begins. Its me hoping for we, but I can’t make we on my own. it’s we for a reason because it takes more than just me. it takes too people it takes a group collectively and willingly to join I together so that we are no longer I alone.
 I mean I’ve tried, 
I've fought,
I've cried, 
I've lost,
I've did the we but its always just been me hoping that you would join but how can I expect so much from you when you spell we with an I?
 How about you walk your singular ass out of my life? take your singular heart and feel those singular feelings and be singular as you like. But don’t look for us to be plural in the sheets, plural when your singular feelings start multiplying into, where is she, why did she leave me where is the we? But you’ll always have that one single thought of me. 
Those were just some thoughts that I probably would never say because I'm so emotional about us you think I'm crazy. But it's that crazy kind of crazy you feel when you love someone.
You will forever be stuck with the thoughts of how you had the right one right under your nose, but you turned the other way.I hope you can leave with that little thought, you really had it all be you decided to go the other way and chase things that clearly weren’t going to work. I guess as humans we shy away from the things that want us, but chase the things that won’t have us but I think you’ll be chasing me now. I’m no longer in your hands for your personal use I’m not longer worried about the we, I could care less about you and I together. I just want you to know that I’ve always loved the idea of us together, the thought of it filled me up with everything that was good. I would have done anything to make us work, I wanted you so bad. Don’t get wrong I still I love, and I always will but I can’t sit around hoping that you will realize that I’m the only one who truly really cares. I hope you’re happy though in whatever path you take, even if the path doesn’t lead to me. Just know that I will be here, always as a friend but never as anything more because I can’t handle you. I can’t handle the thought of all the effort that I put in and how I got absolutely nothing back from you. I’m learning thought how to be better with you and how I shouldn’t expect so much from you, and how we will never me you and me. Sometimes I sit and think about all the history that we have together and how we almost had it all like that Adele song, but of course you mess up as always but I can’t completely blame you because it was me who allowed you back in my life time and time again. I had the power to let you go but allowed you stayed in my life, causing me more and more heart ache that I clearly didn’t enjoy. But its okay I know I can move on this time, from all of this.
The more we sit here I realize that, we've been going through this same cycle and even though I love you more that I alone, I love me more than us together.

The excuse cycle

Gentle man
I am a gentlemen.
A gentle man,
woman,
man with a touch.
Made from his bone, god realized his mistake and made a gentle man.
Can’t they see I conquer all?
From man came woman, and than came voice.
The voice of disobedience
I will eat the fruit of the forbidden tree,
from sin is where the voice came to be.
Time on the clock began ticking for us
in that moment it was set for us,
That our voices would be black as us.
It all came from this one idea; black is sin, but speaks deeply.
From here the voice was given life, and our life was predetermined.
See it was set in stone who we would be, where we would go, what we would see.
The voice that bound to us, deep injected in our guts, making us into our very own ideas.

Created from the very dirt, the very gentle man.

The sinner the man with the touch.

I was determined from that very moment.

I'm suppose to be this bad.

Good behavior isn't a trait of a gentlemen.

So please excuse this gentle man.

Black Seat

Come sit here.

as we ride slow, as we ride long.

Lets look here.

Out this window, where we see high.

Lets ride deep

into poverty, where voices meet me

meet me, loud and sleek as so did she

Sitting in the same back seat

looking at the same back head

can you hear me?

Same black me, same black feet stalking the same black defeat.

Voices are need, to get out of the same corner seat.

Lets stand here, holding onto these roads.

Same buses busting black voices.

Same black crap with all these noises.

Same back black defeat eating at me

taking me

faking me

for sacking me

damn its aching me

trying to move from the front of this ride

trying to sit in that front row seat.

seat, seat, seat, seat, seat

breaking me.

cracking those muted voices inside of me

crying out to me

hating these burning seats

seats, seats, seats,

those voices creeping up on me

voice shattering me from the back seat

So excuse the back black seat, now the front view window me.

The word Bird

follow buttons, 140 words, hash-tags, and trending topics.

tweet me.

lets turn our race into a trending topic.

lets hash-tag what blacks say in arguments.

lets hash-tag job black people don't have and can't get.

Lets follow the twitter name "you might be ghetto if" because we all knows what it takes to be ghetto

Lets be on team light skin or tam dark skin and say why one is better than the other, when honestly it doesn't matter. you're still black regardless

mocha, carmel, chocolate I didn't realize we were flavors.

I'm gonna tweet some misspelled words because I'm too lazy to type the actual word and will you retweet me? 

let 1,284 followers see that I;m lacking some sort of education and that I fall right into that stereotype.

Retweet it so they can do it too, and before you know it I'm a trending topic.

That topic that never changed that same black topic that stayed the same.

follow the leader right into the unemployment line, because you know thats a black thing.

Twatching- the act of watching ones tweets constantly on twitter, although you may not follow them.

They twatch us because we are entertaining and because our actual voice is irrelevant sorry but I will be relevant.

and my voice will not be contained within a tweet, because 140 words is not enough voice for me.

My experience is everything you can't read but only feel and that is a better understanding.

Tweeting is what you do when you fall short of words but I have too many words

I have lots of fully spelled, english understanding, big words that goes beyond the tiny black voice on twitter.

so excuse me if you can't retweet this because this is my story not your typical trending topic.