New Shoots

coming from the earth

green shoots unraveling leaves

opening to the sun

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Can you believe this?

Hellpp!! Is there anybody there?

Where did everybody go?

This is so crazy!!

You won't believe my tale

Did I get swallowed by a whale?

No. Why are you so dumb?


You said you wanted to come!

You're worse than I am

What story?

Oh sorry ladies and gentlemen

This is what happened

Pay attention to this please


I had a problem with my car

It wouldn't take me far

So I ended up at this bar

It's surrounded by trees

I think there's a hooker here

She can give you a disease


I was drinking you know

Maybe a bit too much for my own good

Yes. Of course we had some food

That doesn't even rhyme!

I don't care. I have some time

Will you get to the point?

This was some crazy joint


Is this ever going to end?

My god!

The story is not that odd

Okay Okay

Have it your way

You're still my friend?


Finish already!

You want to go steady?

You are such a jerk

My god!

I'm sorry

Here's what happened


I had too much to drink. I needed to use the bathroom. I asked the

Security guard. He said go upstairs. I said okay

But instead of the bathroom, I went into a chatroom!!

Bang! Zoom!

Now it's locked and I can't get out!

On a Friday yet

I'll probably spend the whole weekend here

Who's going to feed the fish?

Did someone say Trump was Jewish?


Hellpp!! Get me outta here!! HELLLLLLLLLLPPPPPPPPP!!!!!



Author's Notes/Comments: 

I thought I would try something different. Don't you get tired of the same thing all the time? At least I tried. Is anybody here that can recommend me for a Nobel Prize or something?

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Say what?

Hold your horses!

Stop the presses!

Did I hear that Trump confesses?

Can it really be?

Oh em gee


Hold on

I made a boo-boo

Did it ever happen

You too?

I don't see or

Hear too well

El Oh El

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Just Want to Love You

Just want you ,


That's all


nothing else


just you


nothing extra




I just want to want to be with




and love you



Author's Notes/Comments: 

We talk everyday and I listen. I just want you to know that I love you and how important you are to me.

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          Art: A visual form of self expression. For Some, this may be a physical representation created with their body upon different mediums; it could be a verbal expression emited by sound waves coming from the vocal chords of one singing a song, or a verbal representation of poetic beauty. The results vary. Performing arts have been the main public attraction for centuries in many different cultures, displayed all over the world, for decades of time. After viewing the transition of multiple displays of art over time, we begin to understand the characteristic individuals expressing themselves. More than anything art is not just beauty from another; it is an understanding beyond judgement, it forms a new perspective within, that make the viewer understand themselves.

          They say "beauty is in the eye of the beholder" though what is beauty but a perception of momentary observation sent within the brain and communicated to our physical body, creating an emotional response. We as humans are wired so differently; each and every one of us will never exactly know what it is like to be another.  Yet if we seperate our consciousness from dependency, and learn to live by the basic principals and natural laws of the universe- with a balance of independence and intetependence, we will soon find that we as humans have a plethora of things in common.  Beauty, art, formation, creation, desire, addiction (and more)- all of these are but one view away from individual interpretation. Perhaps we are all of one image, entitling every being to free will of self expression in lieu to the grace of imperfect perfection. Though with the exemption of the highest powers granted identification of a sinner or a saint, how deep, beautiful and powerful can art truly be?

           For many, art is an identified beauty romanticized by common display to a public community. To those individuals it is just a play to view with costumed people reinacting a specific instance thru altered personas. Deep within that persona though, we may find a whole different definition of art. The one perspective that reflects more than meets the eye- becomes a story of an unrelatable life to the standard viewer; that persona becomes alive. Picture this, you sit in the audiance of a play rehersal for it's final recital. The stage full of characters display their script, illuminated by the faint spotlight upon just one character. Now zoom in on that one individual, see them, hear their voice, become them. As you stand in that spotlight radiating energy upon you, breathe, blink, and open your eyes and see. Imagine a stage of vanilla scented candles burning their aroma around you- lingering with your every step. Now, take your next breath before you quote Macbeth; are you intimidated? Are you empowered? Has every rehersal prior till taught you to embrace these next words? As you exhale, smothering your one candle in hand with your breath you speak. "...Out, out, Brief candle! Lifes but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage and then is heard no more. It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury signifying nothing." Standing center stage, everything you lived for, all you believe in, every muscle in your body contracting, heartbeat pulsating, breathing staggering, enriched within your soul, you told them how you feel. All opinions and perceptions from the outside stage-in, entruthed by your utter being, projected through another persona upon stage. Ironic, how they applaud in unison as though pressed at que by a button. Signifying nothing, each strut and fret you make upon stage- curtain close, and is heard no more. A poor player of a game called performing arts, you gasp, feeling every bit of your truth exposed. Curtain closed, they shout and hooray, then go quiet. You relocate, next scene, chin up, spotlight on, curtain opens, and you look out to the audiance, still scathed from releasing the truth behind your words. You stop glancing around when such a face in the audiace halts you, looks deep into your eyes, unsettles you, connects with you, and you have the lucid realization that "this person is me." Into the audiance once more, you sit- bewildered that such a scene drew you in. Alas! You feel an understanding without judgement. You have now become the viewer that understandes with a changed perspective, you saw art, you felt beauty. And from then on, every display of character from another, you see different. You feel art has become a completely different altered form of reality. Welcome, you have now experienced the life within an image of artistic beauty.

             You see, being gifted, being talented or even a so called prodigy is nothing more than an identification placed upon your projected form of self expression. Drawing, painting, instrumental and vocal music, being a performing artist, beautician, hairstylist/groomer, interrior designer, athlete- there are so many ways to express oneself with all of our own unique potential. 

              Here I welcome you the pages of my exposed soul, the light and darkness within, to the recorded history of my life, accompained by the beauty of words, paintings, drawings, and photographs; perception of the world through my eyes. Welcome to THE ELEMENTS. Enjoy!

Miranda Baron

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Every Morning

Every morning,, when I wake up, 

I stop and take a while,

to remember what makes me happy,

the things that make me smile…


A baby’s laughter, 

flowers blooming,


holding hands.




a walk along the sand.


The aroma of cookies baking,

the smell of peanut butter in a jar…

My favorite book,

or music,

or movie…

gazing at the stars.


It takes me but a moment

and I’m sure there are things I’ve missed…

but it makes me eager to begin the new day


and start adding to my list.

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it is this impulse to destroy and rebuild,

when control is not being satisfied,

to destroy what was believed to be built,

by destroying I can rebuild something better,

try again 

or so I tell my self,

but it is a vicous cycle,

a paradox of envy and jealously,

of love and hate,

one becomes another,


Do I enjoy destroying?


I derive pleasure from ridding myself

from the annoyances of insignificant people

who only seemed significant intially,

but when I come to my senses,

I realize that they are pathetic,

and so I destroy them in my mind,

bury them in a graveyard of hate,

and that is that,

and I do it again and again,



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I wonder why are kids so cute?

may be because they are what they are.

They don't have anyone to impress.

No one can make them suppressed.

They dream endless

Imaginations boundless.

If it is so,

why do we need to grow?

Do so much to become what we are not!

Why at all be obsessed with becoming perfect?

When new style might be in being imperfect.

Sadly i am the one with so much philosophy,

Still don't know the key to my life mystery.

I tried to follow all rules of the society,

but now i see that those who followed the rare path,

are much more attractive to me.

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Cheap beer and acrid smoke 
blast my tongue 
His hair falls in his eyes 
My consciousness moves upward 
Emptying first my feet 
then finally, my head 
Either he is too quiet 
or my mind is too loud 
Recognizing my confusion 
he spreads me open himself 
I cannot look into his hungry eyes 
He wants me to love him 
To give him more than he can receive 
His heart is too full of soot 
And I am a mirage 

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