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 Aug 2017 Wendy Wong
Nakia
His fists were paint brushes
The holes in the wall
Abstract art
His knuckles bruise as does his mind
Because that hole in the wall isn’t changing his life
Beauty in his pain
His thoughts thrown on the wall in a fit of rage
But those holes aren’t as deep as those in his mind
Filling with self hate
Regret
Dried paint
Lies.
read at your own peril!
the
loathsome
howl of whipping
wind in the rafters and
the eaves. the presence of
an evil force blowing poison
leaves.       an unholy     unction
which         makes the     evil come
the poet      picks up his    vile pen
the haunting had begun. he dips
his quill into the ink, the voice
tells what to write. he obeys its
cruel commands into the dead of
night. owls call loudly, witches
scream, banshees whail their    
woes! the tortured writer        
cannot stop! on and on it
            goes! finally in a dawning
hour, the poet slumps to
desk. the evil has lost all  
control, but the writer      
breathes his last. the        
work he finally
      finished? t'was
      such a tale of
woe. and the
modern writer    
of the book
signed it
          Edgar
     Allen
Poe
°°°
°°
°
°


SøułSurvivør
(C) 6/3/2017
 Jun 2017 Wendy Wong
Robert Frost
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
 Jun 2017 Wendy Wong
Gidgette
I keep my wish list
Upon my wrist
But they don't care for that

I keep my dreams
In makeup creams
They said to try that

They said live a fake life
Be a good little wife
I left, and died my hair black

I walk looking down
In vintage whisky I drown
And I'm ok with that

They said to "fake a smile"
Wear My pain with style
I'm no good at that

I try and cover my wish list
Written in scars upon my wrist
With the dreams, silent screams
Makeup creams
I'm not ok with that....
I miss you all. Please forgive my boldness here. Sometimes, I just have to SCREAM. The only way I know how. Much love to you all.
You are not

A ****** for being a man

A racist for being white

Homophobic for being straight

A terrorist for being Muslim

Or a bigot for disagreeing

Stop generalizing
You're not anything unless you commit the act
 Jan 2017 Wendy Wong
Erin Nicole
His eyes were like
clocks that stopped
spinning the moment
she stared into them.
The universe halted.
All things began to breathe
each others stillness.
To her: it was a simple,
blue, eternity.
If only he knew that I like him or how much. Hmm.. life is hard.

— The End —