[BRACKETS
Nowadays crime pays like a full-time job;
dictations of morality, stories of right and wrong and wrong and right
wrote off untrue, since your mother isn’t with you,
and her prayer beads and mats wear by all the Dust.
dust—accumulating Dust—seething!
Leering! Dreadfully! ice in your scalp;
dust Brittle to the touch, but
remembrance of God wasn’t burning much.
It’s Friday though! Along drowns the weekend, and you hear
Musicians everywhere ravel about the week’s end.
In every cry of every rapper,
in every rapper’s every cry,
frozen blood shattered sharper than Glass Parades in the wind.
But most, through the Twilight Dust you hear,
the vengeance in every artist of war,
the hope in every mother forevermore,
Silenced! In the beckoning of Dust, under clear Darke skies.
From which we were created,
in which we will return,
from which we will rise again,
another time, forevermore.
It’s Friday though! How could you forget—
wipe your tears away—grab your apron and glasses,
and a pen! Very important!
How could you forget you have to file your taxes?
(DAMN.)]*
A Restful Fire
Pomegranate dries in the evening sun.
Rivers wrap around your throat behind tree stumps so shy to the sight of something as pure as Water bestowed from the heavens above—you found this so annoying. you’ve always found this to be the worst thing: Silent Negligence. against all faith, you’ve always found the smirking eyes of snakes nauseating, the consistency of hunger tantalizing, greed inevitable, ruth truthful.
pomegranate stains your shirt as you take slow bites careful not to stare at the Sun.
why would you anger It?
it’s just bad luck.
so when the Moon ignites the air with dissidence and the gusts Howl for acceptance, fixate—how heavy your lungs weigh in your heart—until you are stuck struggling in Moonlight, and all you may do is
* See “Brackets” by Jermaine Cole and DAMN by Kendrick Lamar
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Hilltopics 
[BRACKETS
Nowadays crime pays like a full-time job;
dictations of morality, stories of right and wrong and wrong and right
wrote off untrue, since your mother isn’t with you,
and her prayer beads and mats wear by all the Dust.
dust—accumulating Dust—seething!
Leering! Dreadfully! ice in your scalp;
dust Brittle to the touch, but
remembrance of God wasn’t burning much.
It’s Friday though! Along drowns the weekend, and you hear
Musicians everywhere ravel about the week’s end.
In every cry of every rapper,
in every rapper’s every cry,
frozen blood shattered sharper than Glass Parades in the wind.
But most, through the Twilight Dust you hear,
the vengeance in every artist of war,
the hope in every mother forevermore,
Silenced! In the beckoning of Dust, under clear Darke skies.
From which we were created,
in which we will return,
from which we will rise again,
another time, forevermore.
It’s Friday though! How could you forget—
wipe your tears away—grab your apron and glasses,
and a pen! Very important!
How could you forget you have to file your taxes?
(DAMN.)]*
A Restful Fire
Pomegranate dries in the evening sun.
Rivers wrap around your throat behind tree stumps so shy to the sight of something as pure as Water bestowed from the heavens above—you found this so annoying. you’ve always found this to be the worst thing: Silent Negligence. against all faith, you’ve always found the smirking eyes of snakes nauseating, the consistency of hunger tantalizing, greed inevitable, ruth truthful.
pomegranate stains your shirt as you take slow bites careful not to stare at the Sun.
why would you anger It?
it’s just bad luck.
so when the Moon ignites the air with dissidence and the gusts Howl for acceptance, fixate—how heavy your lungs weigh in your heart—until you are stuck struggling in Moonlight, and all you may do is
* See “Brackets” by Jermaine Cole and DAMN by Kendrick Lamar
Help amplify the voice of the students. Share this: