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mi Jul 2017
Flower petals and confetti litter the ground.
Balloons held up by your friends.
Curious passersby gathering around.
You,being pushed towards the center of attention.
You, alone, in the middle of it all.
His friends wearing letters on their shirts,
Shuffling to spell out-

“will you marry me?”
It flashes on the jumbotron
In lieu of the kiss cam.
Fans hooting everywhere
“Say yes! Say yes!”, they scream
As he kneels on that popcorn and soda littered floor
And repeats-

“will you marry me?”
He says as his now sister-in-law gives you her bouquet.
His and everyone else’s eyes are on you.
Even though it’s his brother’s wedding’s reception,
he still managed to capture all the attention
Towards the two of you.

His eyes are brimming with tears
and glistening like the ring he’s holding.
He loves you. So much.
You love him,too. You know you do.
But how do you say I love you and no at the same time.
“I love you but, no.”
That doesn’t seem right.
So you stay on the middle ground and say
“I’ll have to think about it.”

The hooting turns to whispers
The tears on your boyfriend’s eyes come falling down
as he tucks the ring back in his pockets.
Your feet cemented to the ground
As people look at you as if you’re the strangest thing
to have ever existed.
And you may as well be.
No one says no to proposals.
It’s considered rude to reject such a thoughtful gesture.
But to whom is it being thoughtful of
Because it sure as hell isn’t of you
Since you’re the one who’s being viewed as a villain
But you have to remember that you’re not.

You are not a villain for saying no.
You are not the bad guy for not being ready.
Your decision is valid
And if he leaves you
Or makes a villain out of you
for being honest,
Then you were right to reject that ring.
-d.j.
A wane
in monsoon
when substance
would refrain
again in
platforms shaped
round our
insistence to
wage what
luxuries would
become again
with those
leaders in
the chairs
as they
brought more
futilitiy there.
aurora kastanias May 2017
I was officially born in the 17th century.
My homeland was England.
My parents were many.
They conceived me in coffeehouses.

I was officially born in the 17th century,
When the crowns of Scotland and England united,
When James VI, King of Scots,
Ascended to the throne of England as James I;
When civil wars between roundheads and cavaliers
Ended in Parliamentary victory,
At the Battle of Worcester.

I was officially born in the 17th century,
At the time of Interregnum,
Commonwealths, Glorious Revolution,
William and Mary
and the English Bill of Rights.
Reformation and proliferation of literacy:
People learnt to read the Bible,
Then chose to be curious and explore,
Secular literature and novels
In circulating libraries.

My parents were many.
They conceived me in coffeehouses,
Scattered around the city,
Spread throughout the country,
And finally reached abroad:
Another Revolution,
on the other side of the Channel.

My parents were many.
They met at intellectual bacchanalia,
In reading societies and clubs,
‘Cause that’s where news was communicated.
Freely criticizing politics and governments,
They engaged in conversations
in an environment of confrontation,
Social status set aside,
To listen, exchange, formulate,
Understand and comprehend.

Another William called me ‘mistress of success’,
Blaise thought I was ‘the queen of the world’.
Being well informed and debate in social networks
Was a duty, before being a right,
As my parents’ opinion would guide the rulers,
Ideally in the interest not of few, not of many,
but of all.

First heeded by governments,
They quickly learnt to manipulate me,
They muzzled me and domesticated me,
Taking away my freedom and relevance,
With the unofficial excuse by which
My parents were too ignorant
to even have a voice.

Now those coffeehouses have changed their shape,
Intangible, virtual, ethereal,
New spaces for new parents
To develop ideas, opinions,
And exchange;
Not currencies or stocks
but information and views.

I am my parents’ voice,
My name is Public Opinion.
ryrosaur May 2017
I woke up this morning.
Then I went back to sleep.
Twenty minutes past my alarm, I realized that public education has been ranked as something mildly important, so I got out of bed and dressed myself in the clothing that I had picked out the night before - varying shades of grey. Not fifty. I'd say about four.
English class is fun.
Mims Feb 2017
"Why do you only wanna talk about the problems with public school and suicide?"

Because the blood in the restroom stall,
And the ghosts that walk the halls,
Are only increasing in numbers.
Colm Jan 2017
Don't pretend to be something you're not to impress
Don't be like that
When in fact it's the claim that you understand
Which unfailing
Undoubtedly
Makes me laugh
Lolz
This ***** world is full of deception
Where people sell faith for pennies
Fake people play sincere is but none
Mockery opens just crease by crease

I do not know why people play *****
Why virtue fails and vice dominates
Good are imprisoned bad is but free
World is but a ***** which fascinates

All relations are sham ready to haunt
Step by step play but with innocence
Try to dominate reality with the tricks
This is what is called public nuisance

Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2016 Golden Glow
Devin Ortiz Dec 2016
All of a sudden, I too
Must go, to the unforgiving place
Where judgmental eyes burn
Where wicked tongues lash
Where blasphemy screams
All of a sudden, I too
Must go, to the unforgiving place
My words breadcrumbs to Peace
Yume Blade Dec 2016
Better to write for yourself,
& have no public

Then to write for the public,
& have no self
Do it for yourself with love
Then for the other to show
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