Figure me out!: Devyn Pleasants

unpublished poem by a youth from Larkin Street Youth Services
*typos and capitalization are [sic]

12/27/10

Figure me out!
It's not that hard
To remove the bandages
covering those scars

Now ask about!
Even if it's not clear
Where they came from
And why they're still here

Get into my head!
You know you want to
so don't play around
Or I will taunt you

Don't hesitate!
Can't you see?
I want you to understand
What I really need

Don't fight the urge!
I won't mind
The questions you ask
Or the answers you'll find

Break the skin!
Keep probing till you get
What you're looking for
Or til I forget

Give a push!
Don't stop in your tracks
You're on a roll
So don't look back

Open my mouth!
If it won't budge
To find out how
In the past I've loved

Follow me!
And I'll show you a way
To my darkest room
Down decaying hallways

Push me harder!
If I try to resist
When you ask me questions
That just get me pissed

Don't leave me alone!
'Cause you'll never hear
How I came so close
To living in fear

Rape my seanses!
I will oblige
Now it's up to you
To figure out why

Some People Say I Have a Gift: Devyn Pleasants

unpublished poem by a youth from Larkin Street Youth Services
*typos and capitalization are [sic]

Some people say I have a gift
that makes them sit down in front of me
To listen intently to my poetry
In order to know the whole of me
the chance to look at me critically
Or to find a rhyming soliloquy
Will not come like this
But, however, they persist

In time they find
My soul to exist
As thoughts and ideas
I put on a list

Then hide away in a secret place
Away from even God's grace
I take it out when no one's around
And use it to write my feelings down

Sometimes it's gone, at times too scared
To let me keep exposing the mind's affairs

But if I stop writing it yells at me
It gets angry with me and tells me to leave
And then I'm left with an undone piece
No chance to finally release

Never asking why it screamed at me
Do I write of its insecurities?
That's probably why it's mean to me
For revealing every impurity

But alas with efforts
I've finished my poem
And what has it shown
Has it shown that unkown

Deep, dark hidden space
Hid from even God's grace
Hid forever, hidden from time
Hid where the stars try not to shine

Hidden even as the planets shift
In my heart
Is this poetic gift

You're Princess: Samone Marshalek

unpublished poem by a youth from Larkin Street Youth Services
*typos and capitalization are [sic]

Define me as your princess.
divined in a novel of non-fiction.
I struggle with our battle fields
but your grasp on my glass slipper prevents me from escaping you.
You wont have to take a bite of the poison apple for me to kiss your lips.
My carriage is big enough for your mind to fondle with mine.
Your body is my cloak and my arms are your tower.
but when there's a distance, my heart converges in tangled knots.
Lost in thought of your touch.
For I await for you in a castle as your sleeping beauty.
To kiss me with loves first kiss.
To break the fall from a deep sleep.
But would you climb the million stair cases to reach to me?
Or would you slip rose pedals into my dream?
then it's your eyes that get to me.
Your my candle in the dark that makes me shine from the bottom of my heart.
I urge to take you on adventurous rides
to make the rhythm of your heart beat throb on many fast rollercoaster's.
Skimming my fingers over your chocolate layers.
Wondering with my evasive lips and my slippery hands.
Mirror mirror on the wall who loves you more than all.
I'll make sure I don't take a bite out of the poison apple
But take a bit out of all your love with a kiss to your frozen lips.
You found your Cinderella. You found the shoe that fits.
Still, I'm enchanting to explore and to fine all your weaknesses.
Now define me as your humming bird
Singing beautiful disaster softly, into your delicate ears.
As I'm snuggled and wrapped around you
Playing the melody that you endure me to sing.
When the clock hits at the stroke of 12, the spell is broken.
I'm bound to ask who my heart belongs to.
Is it you?

My Bromo Called Me: Vinnie

11/10/10

My BRoMo CaLLed Me
She Put on HER Canclled TwitteR
Account A Lie of CouRse!
-My Mind Is A Rubkis Cube that HAs
BEEN Passed aRound, kicked, DRopped AND Had
The stickers pulled, peeld, mismatched
And EveEN HAD A FEW Just DissapearR!
HowEVER ThRu The ConFusioN, FRustRAtion,
IRtation, Even BetteR oF my ENDAMETic SELf!
I Go Back To Basics, I Rip oFF the stickers
And Get the Solution To Make
aLL The Sides ThE SamE CoLoR! BLANK!
I WRITE!
WhEN you ARE Ready To Have what I
ahve BROMo ComE Join ME!
CLEAN Sinc Day ONE Plus ALive Equals OnEself.
How Can You Ask ME wheRE IMAT? wheN I have
BeeN HOME This whole Time, How EasilLy you
FoRGet, You LiE!
I wiLL READ This shout Out Loud
FOR You, Much LovE!
Only Content... only Forgivness
Only CLean and conTent HearT Just FoR you!
IM Just Me, Im Just Vinnie
And Now I Let My Hands Be my
Painting of writing Poems
In My Spoken WoRd
Against you My BRoMo!

Been Seven Long Days: Vinnie

unpublished poem by a youth from Larkin Street Youth Services
*typos and capitalization are [sic]

3/10/10

Seven Long Days Since I Saw That Face
Look Back at me with that
ExpressioN oF AnGeR
No SmiLE Anywhere To Be Found..
No Love To Be Seen Anywhere IN Sight..
Seven Days Since I FeLt The Warmth
of you RacheL!
Only To Be Swept away In a MatteR of Moments!
Swept Away by your UncallEd FoR
YET Confusing ReactioN!
Seven Days Since Those WoRds escaped
FROM your LiPS!
Those UnTruthFuL WoRDS
I Now what I BeLievE
SEven Days IN The DARK
With No ANsweRs To BE HEARD
SEven Long DAys!

I am a sad poet: Devyn Pleasants

unpublished poem by a youth from Larkin Street Youth Services
*typos and capitalization are [sic]

"I am a sad poet
My words are bleeding
Who cares, you poets
Are forever teething

I am sad in here
You only need one eye to see
Tears are found here
And the edge is steep

I have cried and hoped
Death would be release
But that is far from
The rest I need

And each time it ends
In a lover's bout
Adds scars visible
To you, no doubt

But are invisible to me
Are shielded and concealed
Like wounded soldiers minds
Are falsely healed

San Francisco: Zack Smith

unpublished poem by a youth from Larkin Street Youth Services
*typos and capitalization are [sic]

Doses everywhere
People without a care
There's nothing to do
Except to melt away without a clue

A flashing light
Lies not to far from my campsite
Listening to Beirut
Is my favorite thing to do

Yesterday a fog settled
I just got my notebook and meddled
Darkness always comes when I write
It's so hard to stay in the light

Looking in San Francisco
Tripping on LSD
Nowhere to go
Candles are all I can see

Smoking another cigarette
The satisfaction still hasn't reached me yet
Thirteen days away
Oh how I miss this holiday

Old friends with coke habits: Zack Smith

unpublished poem by a youth from Larkin Street Youth Services
*typos and capitalization are [sic]

Old friends with coke habits

This person is fucked
This person just told me what happened
This person walked into my backyard
This person just finished crying after four hours before he left
This person ran into his house bleeding
This person got out of a car
This person got into the car while it was moving
This person got up as soon as he could
This person got pummeled
This person tried to explain why he didn't have the money
This person spent 2 weeks bumping his life away
This idiot got it fronted to him

Food is Delicious: Vaughnjareya Falkner

unpublished poem by a youth from Larkin Street Youth Services
*typos and capitalization are [sic]

Food is delicious
Food makes me fat
Food is good
or evil.
Some have too much
Others have too little
I've even met those who have the perfect amount.
Food.
It's there
In the cabinets
slimmering on stove
raw in plastic packaging
moldering under the couch.
Food. Hey, you guys want some food?!
How do you like yours?
And you?
Out of the can.
How about you?
I like it free, my man.
Holocaust victims were deprived of it.
Mardi Gras revelers in France indulged in it.
Spilled it on the ground,
while children cried to be fed
seeing cakes and sweet meats trampled
beneath the rich people's feet.
I hate using cash to get it,
Food Stamps are preferred.
People love it during Christmas
and shun it after New Year.
"Lose those holiday pounds!" Magazines skriek post-Thanksgiving.
"Feed the children!"
"There's starving people in Africa!"
Not ALL, parts, dummy. Africa is a continent.
Binging, purging,. Tasting, dining. Salvia glands prepare you.
Hot or cold, my dear? Ice cram man in the summer, soup man in the winter.
Food.
Pick your poison, baby.

Seeing I 2 I: Warren Ross

unpublished poem by a youth from Larkin Street Youth Services
*typos and capitalization are [sic]

Seeing I 2 I
to know, think about, and tolerate is one thing
to contemplate, understand, and accept is
Another entirely.

Let me put this out there right from the start.
I am me.
Warren
Edward
Ross
No one Else, got it?
Good.
And now I just wanna say I am really
starting to get annoyed with this whole
label, label stereotype thing every
one And their Mammas seem
to be rolling with these days.
Do you think what if the whole world went
blind, people would really know who's standing
beside them. Maybe we'd finally look past
appearance, and actually get to know
the people behind the cover
or maybe

I'm just
crazy
could
be.

I don't know
I just don't understand
why the world is so fucking judgmental,
Can I just be me?
Can we just be humans together?

Dear Body: Vinnie

unpublished poem by a youth from Larkin Street Youth Services
*typos and capitalization are [sic]

10/28/10

DEAR BODY!
You See There Is A Problem HeRE!
Im In PAiN!
Not Just Any Pain, The Kind of Pain That
makes you Feel as though There are Little GrimLings
chewing away at my muscles & Joints Causing them
To Constrict a Thousands Knives
Pressing Hard, pressing Deep!
But you See, Its Not youR Fault!
Its MinE!! For Iam The One who
Consumed all those what I call
Lines on FLat MiRRoR TabeL!

I was the OnE who ConSumed
Those Now Living On what I Call a Side Effect
On a Once 89LB METH HEAD!!

But Its Not YouR FAULt Body!
I Now CaRRy The Pain!
But you See Body! I teLL You this
I Need you To CARRy Now This Healthy
Fagboi, cLean Since DAY One ON This New JouRNEY
I NEEd you To CARRY Me
ALL The Way
FoR I am STRong, I SuRRender!

Freedom: Samone Marshalek

unpublished submission from the youth at Larkin Street Youth Services


Sometimes it's hard to listen to the rain
When its [sic] clarity isn't clear enough.
The rashes off my skin tell a person im [sic] not well enough
for a day without innocence.
Inch by inch I'm loosing my own
with every tear leaking from the corner of my eye lids.
No one seems to claim the stranger inside me
so i [sic] walk along my torn pieces.
voices keep winding through my soul
speaking love appearance but i [sic] cluster under my clothes
that makes me invisible to glance at.
I'm opposed to the volume of the crowd
that makes me want to shout out my rough edge
but no one seems to know that.
Bleeding but no fear of fighting
the tall waves from above my head
sometimes makes the freedom comes [sic] out again.

Questioning: Shanya Nicole

unpublished submission from the youth at Larkin Street Youth Services


Where do I want to be? I don't know I don't feel
like I have a choice it's up to me. Some days I feel
the need for a woman, some days the need for a
man. But I am comfortable where I am. I don't
need a label, I love, love, love, depending on the
day, the time, is it the right place?

Both are beautiful to me. Both are choices.
Both are my eye of Desire.
I can have one or the other
or Both
or None
But I know what I like the most
choices
confused of my attraction
And men are always available
women shy away
Megan are hurtful
women soft, loving
But it's hard to want
What doesn't want me
and I'm not too sure