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  May 2017 SunFlower
Shruti Gauba
Loving a flower is playing with danger,
and you must know, danger never warns,
so when you pluck me because you love me,
you forget I'm embellished with thorns.

Because you don't pluck the one's you love,
rather, you keep them alive.
So I let my love become your breaths
that filled your lungs, so you'd survive

But even love swoons into revenge,
and your love too was a fatal deed,
so watch my petals as they all wither,
but remember; my leaves helped you to breathe.
And now I'll be the one who'll ****** the breaths.
SunFlower May 2017
Art
Art is like a poem without words
It whispers sweet colors into our ears and provides us the meaning of what those colors perform
They serve a purpose to humankind
to show passions and imagination
It's influence on society
whether it's through music or literature  
Art is a reflection of our world through someone's eye and creation of their hands
It shouts out to us with encouragement
and never to abandon a vision
Sun Flower
SunFlower May 2017
There similar in their own different ways.

Both have anger and trust issues.

They can explode at any moment and I’d be stuck there trying to help them.

Why is it that I take the responsibility to help calm someone down.

It’s like it’s my job to do so.

I hate the fact that both pull me in with full force.

Why is it that I go to the trouble ones.

It never does me good.
  May 2017 SunFlower
Ryan Holden
Taking long drives,
Through these country roads,
Catching butterflies,
And memories along the way,
Taking advantage,
Of the nicest of days

Dipping our feet in the sea,
Of sheer iciness,
Instantly feeling like needles,
Prickling our toes,
But we keep running as far as we can,
Holding hands,
as we go.

Eating a lemon top,
In freezing cold weather,
Not a single care,
When we're together,
Villages, pubs,
And countryside,
Our two hearts,
Will be full inside.

Even as summer passes through,
We always go back,
To that cosy shelter,
Whilst you're wearing 3 layers,
And my best sweater.

Birthday on the London eye,
Trying to count the bowler hats,
From up in the sky,
And seeing how many bulldogs,
Walk closely by.

Queuing for hours on end,
But filling in that empty void,
We call conversation,
Psychotic bond,
No hesitation.

I remember at the royal wedding,
As they passed by,
New princess with her dress sparkling,
I whispered in your ear,
You look much more beautiful, my darling.
  May 2017 SunFlower
Ryan Holden
I see the violence,
I hear no laughter,
It's all faith to capture;
I can feel the rapture,
Disaster another chapter,
Darkness within these walls,
a fall,
No more buildings too tall.
Fire choking the young,
It's only just begun.
There's no sun,
We hear a bomb,
Run,
Innocent children,
Deprived of fun,

Shrapnel flying everywhere,
Smoky air,
Streets are bare,
It's all despair,
I feel the Animosity,
Subconsciously,
Knowing I'm dead probably,
We do this to our society,
Because we have religion and rivalry,
Violently, involved yet independently,
You walk so silently,
Scared of your own shadow frightfully,
Tirelessly,
With your messed up psychiatry,
That’s irony.
Restless Ramblings of a mind, that still doesn't understand why.
Quick succession rhyming used here. Some lyrics are taken from a rap I wrote, in similar context to what is happening in this sad, miserable world.
  May 2017 SunFlower
Sylvia Plath
Never try to trick me with a kiss
Pretending that the birds are here to stay;
The dying man will scoff and scorn at this.

A stone can masquerade where no heart is
And virgins rise where lustful Venus lay:
Never try to trick me with a kiss.

Our noble doctor claims the pain is his,
While stricken patients let him have his say;
The dying man will scoff and scorn at this.

Each virile bachelor dreads paralysis,
The old maid in the gable cries all day:
Never try to trick me with a kiss.

The suave eternal serpents promise bliss
To mortal children longing to be gay;
The dying man will scoff and scorn at this.

Sooner or later something goes amiss;
The singing birds pack up and fly away;
So never try to trick me with a kiss:
The dying man will scoff and scorn at this.
  May 2017 SunFlower
Maya Angelou
You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may **** me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.
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