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Dewayne Green

United States

Born in Cambridge, Massachusetts. I am a poet. A social activist. A student. A friend.

Message from Writer

I hope to open eyes with each poem I write. I want to give a part of me through every sentence, word, and syllable.

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Dewayne Green (United States) published:

The Tree.

FREE WRITING

 I'm laying in a bed full of lies.
Strangling me.
Putting me in this awkward position.
  It feels like being slapped in the face.
  Millions of times.
I want to shed a tear but feel too weak.
I am craving the thirst for my own tears.
  Deyhadrated from this depression.
I go underneath the tree by the house I used to grow up in.
  I am hungry for wisdom. 
I yearn for the memories.
The good...

Seeking Peer Reviews

about 1 year ago

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Dewayne Green (United States) started following sKRUwriting (India)

over 1 year ago

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1

Dewayne Green (United States) published:

FOREST.

FREE WRITING

Our encounters are not the same.
Spasmodic through the span of time. 
I ask myself if I still know you.
I feel betrayed having you near my proximity.
It feels like a burden has been placed on my back. 
So heavy, that I can't escape.
Feeling like being lost in a forest,
A forest that I can easily get tangled, and trapped by the many vines that are around me
Trying to escape, until I see you.
The elephant in...

Seeking Peer Reviews

almost 2 years ago

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1

Dewayne Green (United States) published:

16.

PROMPT: [Insert Age]

The hourglass isn't even half empty. 
I feel time is not even important.
It being the sand that passes through the bottom of the glass.
Every grain representing every second of my life. 
Feeling like it is flashing by before my eyes could even comprehend that it is gone. 

Why do I look ahead to what is next?
Am I going crazy?
Maybe it's just apart of life.

Every year on June 24th. 
The very moment I see a sugary...

Seeking Peer Reviews

about 2 years ago

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1

Dewayne Green (United States) published:

16.

PROMPT: [Insert Age]

The hourglass isn't even half empty. 
I feel time is not even important.
It being the sand that passes through the bottom of the glass.
Every grain representing every second of my life. 
Feeling like it is flashing by before my eyes could even comprehend that it is gone. 

Why do I look ahead to what is next?
Am I going crazy?
Maybe it's just apart of life.

Every year on June 24th. 
The very moment I see a sugary...

Seeking Peer Reviews

about 2 years ago

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Prolific

Dewayne Green (United States) earned a badge Prolific

about 2 years ago

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1

Dewayne Green (United States) published:

16.

PROMPT: [Insert Age]

The hourglass isn't even half empty. 
I feel time is not even important.
It being the sand that passes through the bottom of the glass.
Every grain representing every second of my life. 
Feeling like it is flashing by before my eyes could even comprehend that it is gone. 

Why do I look ahead to what is next?
Am I going crazy?
Maybe it's just apart of life.

Every year on June 24th. 
The very moment I see a sugary...

Seeking Peer Reviews

about 2 years ago

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Dewayne Green (United States) published:

Cloud 9.

FREE WRITING

You look familar. 
You sound unfamilar. 
The way you talk isn't how it used to be.
Who are you?
I look back at our times together
Travling through in somewhat of an imaginary time capsel 
I travel to the time where we first met. 
Oh how innocent we were. 
The past seemed like we were on cloud 9
Our times together felt like a dream. 
Not just any dream, a realistic
 Simplistic 
Optimistic 
Dream. 
It was like a work of...

Seeking Peer Reviews

over 2 years ago

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Dewayne Green (United States) published:

Cloud 9.

FREE WRITING

You look familar. 
You sound unfamilar. 
The way you talk isn't how it used to be.
Who are you?
I look back at our times together
Travling through in somewhat of an imaginary time capsel 
I travel to the time where we first met. 
Oh how innocent we were. 
The past seemed like we were on cloud 9
Our times together felt like a dream. 
Not just any dream, a realistic
 Simplistic 
Optimistic 
Dream. 
It was like a work of...

Seeking Peer Reviews

over 2 years ago

Mfa
2

Dewayne Green (United States) published:

​The Last Breath's

PROMPT: Collective Voice

"I can't breath"
You said as the men gathered like a pack of wolves
Ready to attack. 
Their arms and strength holding you down like pillars.
Making sure I won't make a move.
Or sound. 
"I can't breath" 
You said again. 
But they threw those three words, like it was something on a piece of paper that was unimportant. 
As they hold you down.
Choking not only your throat
But your last breath that you will make in reality. 
The...

Seeking Peer Reviews

over 2 years ago

Published Work

The Tree.

 I'm laying in a bed full of lies.
Strangling me.
Putting me in this awkward position.
  It feels like being slapped in the face.
  Millions of times.
I want to shed a tear but feel too weak.
I am craving the thirst for my own tears.
  Deyhadrated from this depression.
I go underneath the tree by the house I used to grow up in.
  I am hungry for wisdom. 
I yearn for the memories.
The good memories. 
I am completely numb to everything. I
look around in complete confusion.
I then see the youthful side of me.
Running around the tree.
An apple descends on to the ground. 
He stops running around.
He picks up the apple.
It's glistening to the point where I can see my own reflection.
I am then handed the apple.
Holding it with the number of fingers that God has given to me.
(One,Two,Three)
I take a bite.
Starting to cry. ...

FOREST.

Our encounters are not the same.
Spasmodic through the span of time. 
I ask myself if I still know you.
I feel betrayed having you near my proximity.
It feels like a burden has been placed on my back. 
So heavy, that I can't escape.
Feeling like being lost in a forest,
A forest that I can easily get tangled, and trapped by the many vines that are around me
Trying to escape, until I see you.
The elephant in the room. 
The one I can't ever stop thinking about. 
Forming this awkwardness
All at the same time, figuring out out if forgiveness is the key out of this forest.
Called confusion.   

[Insert Age]

16.

The hourglass isn't even half empty. 
I feel time is not even important.
It being the sand that passes through the bottom of the glass.
Every grain representing every second of my life. 
Feeling like it is flashing by before my eyes could even comprehend that it is gone. 

Why do I look ahead to what is next?
Am I going crazy?
Maybe it's just apart of life.

Every year on June 24th. 
The very moment I see a sugary cake with candles.
Seems to be the only time I hit the rewind button in my head. 
I go back to the good moments. 
And I glare at the bad.
Even though I need to examine the moments I don't want to even look back to. 

In the end. 
I am only 16.
I have a whole life ahead of me, 
Don't I? 
   

Cloud 9.

You look familar. 
You sound unfamilar. 
The way you talk isn't how it used to be.
Who are you?
I look back at our times together
Travling through in somewhat of an imaginary time capsel 
I travel to the time where we first met. 
Oh how innocent we were. 
The past seemed like we were on cloud 9
Our times together felt like a dream. 
Not just any dream, a realistic
 Simplistic 
Optimistic 
Dream. 
It was like a work of art. 
A masterpiece that kept getting better, and better.
Until the storm came soring through our fantasy. 
Lightning struck on me
Causing myself to fall face foward into reality.
But you still remained on..
Cloud 9. 
 

Collective Voice

​The Last Breath's

"I can't breath"
You said as the men gathered like a pack of wolves
Ready to attack. 
Their arms and strength holding you down like pillars.
Making sure I won't make a move.
Or sound. 
"I can't breath" 
You said again. 
But they threw those three words, like it was something on a piece of paper that was unimportant. 
As they hold you down.
Choking not only your throat
But your last breath that you will make in reality. 
The last breath of being able to live your life how ever you desired. 
The last breath of seeing your family that you loved so dearly. 
But most importantly, the last breath of knowing about the love you brought to people. 
Flashes like lighting came to your mind. 
The focus shifted not only on yourself, but to people in a similar mess as you. 
You witness people's last breath from across the earth. 
Fellow black men, women, children. 
All witnessing for...

The Amazing Thing (Found Poem)

Each day we go about our business.
This is what we need to walk around with.
 
There is nothing important enough
When you’re very sad.
 
I think about how it hurts to be present
There is so much mystery and complexity.
 
We cross dirt roads and highways.
We see a white car behind us.
 
Then this amazing thing happens.
It was like this. It was like that.
 
I need to see what’s on the other side.
 
A women and her son,
Waiting for the bus.
Trying to make music with a harmonica and a voice.
 
Everyone who walked by stood in a circle.
We then go about our business
 
Poems used:
Praise Song for the Day by Elizabeth Alexander
If by Rudyard Kipling
The Poetry of Ordinary Time (found poem by Annie Dillard using an interview with Marie Howe) 

Six-Word Story

Scars

Scars. Never. Fade. Away. In. Existance. 

Carmine

Carmine is the joy of a young child.
After receiving a piece of candy from the teacher as a reward.
 
Carmine is like a sweet innocent girl.
Who on the inside, can have a treacherous personality.
 
Carmine is a red flag.
Signaling danger when it comes a mile away.
 
Carmine is the fear that is in someone’s eyes.
When they sense something in their little carmine heart.
 
Carmine is like a celebrity.
Always seeking attention.
 
Carmine is the feeling of affection.
The feeling of loving someone unconditionally.
 
Carmine is heart break.
Morning someone you lost and once loved.
 
Carmine is unpredictable.
 
 
 

"Wonderland"

Oh, how I miss those crisp cold months.
Breathing in the crisp cold air as soon as we stepped out of the house.
Frolicking in the pure white ground.
We used to call it “wonderland”.
 
The “wonderland” we used to get lost in.
Sticking out our tongues while the look in wonder of what we call “the magical marshmallows falling from the sky”.
As they drift down from the sky,
They gently hit our tongues, which melt.
Disintegrating into the unknown.
 
When you fall down
I was the one to pick you up.
I was the one to brush the “magical wonder powder” off your jacket.
 
Hours and hours went by.
Mother calls our names to come back inside.
Inside.
We sip hot chocolate,
It was warm, and the aroma gave the house a sweet smell.  
 
We watched the “wonderland” grow,
We watch its height grow from ground up.
 
We then watch the clock...

Once Upon.

Once upon a struggling time.
People came together.
Being united with one common message.
The same hope and dream of their message being heard.
They begin to craft.
Forming every word.
Every break,
And every motion.
They create a voice.
A voice that could be heard from miles away.
A voice they hope can help change the perspectives of the people around them.
Touching their heart.
And uniting their soul.
They have strong hopes.
A hope they can begin a conversation afterward.
A dream of being remembered.
Far after their existence.
To eternity. 

Poetry

What If.

What If.
There was such thing as paradise
A place where I can share my ideas of art
And that I can’t be criticized of my thoughts that have been conceived
In my mind and regurgitated into the negative air.
What if.
I can change the world with my ideas.
If I can change people’s opinions of what visuals they see through their eyes
What if.
I was forced to become a living product of society
Being a doll with no emotion and controlled by strings tied to my arms and legs
What if I.
Prevent society on creating an image
An image that rapes ones race, culture, and religion
Identity.
What if we.
Can change the world.
One heartbeat.
One breath.
One step.
At a time. 
 

What If.

What If.
There was such thing as paradise
A place where I can share my ideas of art
And that I can’t be criticized of my thoughts that have been conceived
In my mind and regurgitated into the negative air.
What if.
I can change the world with my ideas.
If I can change people’s opinions of what visuals they see through their eyes
What if.
I was forced to become a living product of society
Being a doll with no emotion and controlled by strings tied to my arms and legs
What if I.
Prevent society on creating an image
An image that rapes ones race, culture, and religion
Identity.
What if we.
Can change the world.
One heartbeat.
One breath.
One step.
At a time. 
 

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3 Likes from Others

​The Last Breath's

Liked by 2 people

Scars

Liked by 3 people

Once Upon.

Liked by 1 person

Good neighbor

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