Should Have Known Better

By Autumn Scott

They say it gets easier with time but they never say what happens
when time is standing still,
He was your sunlight, and it seems more and more lately like the darkness is closing in.
You try to sleep,
try to do anything to take away the constant ringing in your ears but you shut your eyes and the image of his lips pressed against your cheek opens flood gates you don’t remember building.
Before you can catch your breath,
you are drowning in a sea of your own naivety.
You should have known better.

They tell you that an object in motion always stays in motion and then wonder why you have spent your life running in circles.
In school they taught you to never ask “why”,
they taught you to just accept things for what they are, to stop being so curious,
maybe this is why you never made it past grade 10.
you want to know why objects at rest stay at rest,
you want to know why the stars shine at night,
you want to know why someone can wake up one morning and suddenly not love you anymore.
you want to know why you got detention for asking these questions.
You should have known better.

They sing their Ring Around the Rosies through gunshots blaring,
heeding warnings of his intention,
He tells you he loves you and you fall for it every time.
the troops beg you to surrender,
to retreat into the safety of life before the war,
but one glance at that face across the battlefield and you jump directly into his line of fire.
Your family fills their pockets with posies to mask the scent of your demise.
Ashes, ashes, we all fall down.
You should have known better.

Autumn Stott, 21, was born in raised in Jim Thorpe, Pa. She is a waitress by day, hopeful poet by night. To read more from Autumn, visit http://au-trocity.tumblr.com or http://hellopoetry.com/autumns/

Fluoxetine

By Marissa C. Miller

Maria liked the color Yellow
Yellow was the color of the flowers in the grass
and once she took a bouquet inside
an insurmountable look of pride and a fistful of flowers
“well, now, those are just weeds.” Momma said
and Maria wondered how anyone could live in a world
where your whole life you mistook weeds for flowers

Maria got sad once
and momma didn’t understand
momma stroked her little tousled hairs
and sang her sweet rhymes

Five little monkeys jumpin on the bed
one fell off and bumped her head
Momma called the doctor and the doctor said
“Give her a pill, cause she’s sick in the head.”

but Maria laid out in the field of weeds
and stared off into space
the pills made her gaze absently into the clouds
and she didn’t see monkeys, or elephants, or bears
or love or god or anybody
but she could feel the weeds around her
and thought
how could anyone live in a world that mistook flowers for weeds?
Marissa C. Miller is a Scranton based writer, actress, singer, and graduate student. She is currently a performer and sometimes writer on the podcast 40 Story Radio Tower.

Check out more from Marissa:

https://wealllooklikeassholes.wordpress.com/
https://twitter.com/marissac1273
https://twitter.com/tower_40

Once a Dad

By Tony Amico

On a warm sunny day you entered the world and I was suddenly Dad,
and dream how I dreamed of a lifetime in store, not knowing how little you had.
But grateful am I and so fortunate too, for the blessing of life and a son that was you.
The first steps you took, my thumbs in your hands, all memories vivid as the time your life spans.
The first words you spoke I may not recall, but calling me Dad is what I miss most of all.
So full my life was and you nourished my pride, but I took it for granted as you walked by my side.
Day after day, year after year…wouldn’t you always be ever so near
Those who stepped out of our lives, some who left this earth. These are the realities of life since the day of our birth.
Time marches on, changes do come, I tried my best to be a good Father to you, my one and only Son.
My Michel, My Michel, I just couldn’t see, where destiny was leading, my dreams were not to be.
And so I walk through this life holding memories deep inside, sometimes I see your smile and my walk turns to a stride.
Even though I can not touch you or run my fingers through your hair, I can close my eyes and wander, in my dreams your’e always there.
So when my time is over, when my walk is finally done, I’ll step into the splendor, with you my loving Son.

Tony is a self-employed, local Masonry Contractor from Throop, Pa., with an artistic background. In recent years he has indulged himself into the writing medium. He also enjoys public speaking and writing fictional as well as non fictional post and words of inspiration, drawing from mostly his life experiences.

Book

By Nick DeMarco

Try as you may
Your mind does not equal your body
In the preparation
Of the cold shoulder
The cold shower
Tossed on you
Tossed at you
By life

It is not a matter of self-burial
The loathing is long gone
But this belief in a choice
To smile in faith
That tomorrow is always a viable option

Sometimes I stare at my left hand
Open palmed
Rubbing it with my right thumb
As if coursing the words
Through the neurons
Into the sparks
That comes forth from my hands
And then onto the page
An usual practice
For such legerdemain

Age doesn’t always equal wisdom
But more so an acceptance
Solemn and undeniably true
That even if friends go
Even if loves leaves us
We still have what we were taught by the ancients
And it means something different to everyone

To this boy
Now a man
It is taking a silent oath
To never quit
Not because quitters never win
But quitters
Have the shortest, most uninteresting stories to tell

I want to be a book that can’t be put down.

Nick DeMarco is a 34 year old son, fiance, uncle, brother, and friend- when he is not blogging for NEPAScene.com, reviewing video games, running his small business, Nick D’s Video Game Vault, or caring for adults with autism on 3rd shift.

From Nick: “Singer/Songwriter and poet, it has taken my many years to accept myself and overcome great obstacles, most recently the passing of my father in April.

This is me. This is all I know in self-expression and communicating.”

Through The Storm

By Mason Crawford and Olivia Romano

Jacob you are louder than a giant
Sophia, they’re all staring, keep your voice down.
Jacob you said that already
Sophia, you pee the bed. Every night
Jacob you are too annoying
Sophia, mom cried when you were born
Jacob you have a mother who desperately needed you

Jacob, Sophia, only if they knew how hard you tried to stay with us, how scared I was of you
That our parents were told us you were babies of convulsions, disasters, and death. That you are going to meet Mister Mayhem only weeks after they adopted you.
That I would want to forget you sometimes.

That you were a four leaf clover drenched in pesticide
That you were a baby baptized in tears and diagnoses.

But buddy, baby, I want you know, I’ll be your keeper
Your Welcoming Sign doormat
And the place you can hide

I’ll be the lion inside your chest ready to attack
Whenever threatened
I’ll be the one who holds your hand when you cross the street
I’ll be your punching bag
Your safe place
The reason you want to come home.

And I’ll still love you unconditionally
I will never stop loving you unconditionally.

I’ll still be there when you need another piece of gum
When you want to play dress up with big girl clothes
When you need a friend for black ops 2

So listen up, just for a moment

I want to make an apology, for not talking about you to my friends,
For not raising the bar because no one thought you could grab it
And for not believing in you.

I know Jacob you’ll never fully understand the meaning behind this, and I’m sure you’ll fight me saying you do but just remember I’ll always have the next piece of gum awaiting for you.

You might be a disaster, but you are the most magnificent disaster I have ever known.

So Jacob,
Sophia,

Never be told you are too loud, because voices tend to put you down anyways
Never stop believing in princesses and ice cream and cartoons with daddy.
Never stop repeating yourself, be the drummer in a war
Never stop swallowing the sun, you are my favorite rainbow
Never stop being you, I need someone to tell me when Friday is coming around

Never stop loving me,
Because I will love you through a million storms
I will never stop carrying you home.

Mason Crawford is a junior at Tunkhannock Area High School and can usually be found trying to get his parents to take in another beloved cat. He has performed on stages as local as The Ritz, Keystone College, and TwentyFiveEight Studios. He has also performed on stages as big as the international festival, Brave New Voices. One of his biggest accomplishments is opening a show for nationally acclaimed artist, Rachel McKibbens. He has been an active member of the local non-profit, youth run organization the Breaking Ground Poets run by Katie Wisnosky. You can now find Mason trying to answer this simple question with to many answers, “Where is the happiness?”

Olivia Romano is an active member of the Breaking Ground Poets. She has just graduated Tunkhannock Area High School, and now can be found scaring it up at Reaper’s Revenge. Olivia has performed on the Brave New Voices (an international youth festival) stage two times. She can usually be found trying to discover life’s mysteries and crying at Grey’s Anatomy. 

Never Been an Easy Thing

By Kathy L.

Hard as I tried
And many tears I cried
But the day did arrive
When I was able to say good-bye

I know I did my best but
I could not pass your test
Perhaps you look at me with disgust
What was it I wish I knew you didn’t trust

In my heart I know my love was always there
But you never did seem to care
A perfect parent I will never be
But as for guilt I am free

I pray for you each and every night
That you will see me in a different light
But if that is not what is meant to be
I cherish the love of two out of three

Kathy is a mother, teacher and wife who loves her job and family. She loves crafting and has only written a couple poems in her life. She lives in Scranton, Pa.

Untitled

By Cathy Mason

As I stand at the crossroads
And search all around
I think of the memories
Some desolate, some profound.

I embrace the journeys
Those moments in time
Pillaging through diligently
To reconstruct this unsettling mind.

Grasping for the fondness
Trying to forget the pain
Inching forward slowly
Believing I’m NOT insane

I yearn to be free
Trying to learn to rebuild
Struggling each day
Searching to be beguiled

Cathy Mason is a 46-year-old single mother from Factoryville, Pa., who has been writing poetry since the early 90’s. She writes what she feels, without worrying about which type or structure of poetry she is using. She writes from the soul, and does not know poets, other poems, or different types of poetry.

Playing Dress-Up

By Jess Meoni

Can I force myself to coexist?
Smile dryly while we reminisce
about follies and counterfeit experience?
Open my mouth, unhinge this kiss, detach my jaw,
let the desperation crawl out from the depths
of petty quips, a lack of definite intent.
Excuse me while I interject.
This skeleton of words and wit
has made a specimen transmit
a conversation laid to rest.

Jess Meoni is a graphic designer and community activist from Scranton. She is the editor of Ruthless Zine, a monthly rock n’ roll inspired publication as well as A Rocky Glen of the Mind, a poetry collection. She is the organizer of the Scranton Zine Fest, an annual art and literature festival, Grrrls Night, a women’s-only mic night, and a contributor of NEPA Scene.

Giving

Anonymous

I keep giving my all to people who only ever take.
I put myself aside to make sure that they don’t break.
I’ve lost myself in people who’ve never truly cared.
And put my love in someone who was never really there.
I walk around the world with my heart upon my sleeve.
But I’ve let so many people in, just to watch them leave.
I’ve learned that maybe what I’m fighting for isn’t meant to be.
And the people that I’m loving just aren’t capable of loving me.
Now I tend to cling to people only to find myself pushing them away.
I try to make them go before they realize on their own that they don’t want to stay.
So I’m stuck here now to figure out exactly what to do
Because at the end of the day, still all I want, is for them to love me too.

The writer of this poem wishes to remain anonymous and is from Scranton, Pa.