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 Jul 2015 123
Ariel Baptista
Sanguine
Choleric
Melancholic
Phlegmatic
Phlegmatic
Melancholic
C­holeric
Sanguine
Blood oranges
And hibiscus tea
White wine
Carcrash memory
Hypertensive
He straps me down on the table
This is for my own good.
Too much blood they say,
Too much red wine too much liquid
Too much
My hand is swollen
My stomach distended
The vein in my forehead is bulging
Too much blood
A needle
A leech
A pen
Blood oranges
White wine
A needle is a leech is a pen
Is what the doctor ordered
He straps me to the desk
This is for my own good
A cure
Too much blood
Too much tea
Too many memories
Too many thoughts
Hypertensive
Sanguine
They say
They hand me the scalpel
And show me the line
Too much
I’ve had too too much red wine
To be doing this
A pen a leech a needle
A bucket of blood
A novel
Sanguine
Melancholic
Choleric
Phlegmatic
This is the cure
This is for my own good
Too much much blood
They hand me the pen
I’ve had too too many
Blood oranges
To be doing this
A scalpel is a pen
Is a leech is a needle
A bucket of blood is a novel
(Bleeding is the cure)
I bleed.
There is only one thing you should do. Go into yourself. Find out the reason that commands you to write; see whether it has spread its roots into the very depths of your heart; confess to yourself whether you would have to die if you were forbidden to write. This most of all: ask yourself in the most silent hour of your night: must I write? Dig into yourself for a deep answer. And if this answer rings out in assent, if you meet this solemn question with a strong, simple "I must", then build your life in accordance with this necessity; your whole life, even into its humblest and most indifferent hour, must become a sign and witness to this impulse. - Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet
 Jul 2015 123
Sedoo Ashivor
Egg
 Jul 2015 123
Sedoo Ashivor
Egg
I broke a chicken egg one day
Found two yolks inside
Amazing, the things that happen
When Nature has her way.
 Jul 2015 123
Sedoo Ashivor
I can't stop thinking about you
Thoughts of you swim in my head
I keep being assured that your love is true
When I'm awake and when I'm in bed

I can't breathe when you are around
My heart listens for your sweet sound
My throat constricts and becomes dry
I can't speak, no matter how hard I try

Every memory of you brings a smile to my face
And I wear this famous faraway look
While I ponder, I travel to this great place
You have turned my life into a storybook

I have heartache when you are far from me
I can't sleep, I can't drink, I can't eat
I see you and my heart skips a beat
That's the way you make me feel

The way you make me feel is good
Much more desirable than delicious food
Your love is like a warm, warm embrace
And my joy is the soft smile on your fine face.
 Jul 2015 123
Sedoo Ashivor
The moment my eyes closed on Saturday night
The very moment, my eyes lost their physical sight
I swam into this vast dreamland
Where there were dry shrubs and lots of sand
It was a totally deserted place
There was no sign of anyone, not a single race
It was strangely quiet, the atmosphere eerie
My palms were quite clammy, it was that scary!
I squinted into the dark and saw something
It moved and sounded like bells were clinking
It began drawing closer to me, advancing
I tried to move back, fearfully retreating
But my feet felt stuck to the ground
Its growling surrounded me, what a terrible sound
The moon shifted, I saw its form and its face
It was a horrible sight, its body, every trace
There were the huge eyes, so yellow
The face monstrous, nothing mellow
The teeth were fangs, oh! I can't describe
The fear I felt on this dream ride
Its claws started to descend on me
What would I do? How could I flee?
Just when I thought my throat was being ripped out
I heard a loud shot, and then a shout
The monster lay dead at my feet
I was shivering, my face as white as sheet
I turned and saw this handsome, kind face
The lips moved,"I've come to rescue you from this place"
I was saved and so full of joy
That the evil beast had been destroyed.
My alarm rang and I woke up in bed
My heart thumping, I remember all He said
Taking my hand, he had led the way
And promised to be with me everyday.
 Jul 2015 123
Sedoo Ashivor
I am a stick of wax

The thread within me is lax

I brighten your night

With my yellow light*

What am I?
 Jul 2015 123
Sedoo Ashivor
There was once a man called Richard Megacide
One day, with little provocation, he committed patricide
The jury decided man slaughter, but he soon incurred the guilt of matricide
The following month, we got wind of his act of fratricide
The judge ruled against him, then he carried out homicide
As the entire people began to complain, next was genocide
The king, though spared, didn't keep silent and the story was regicide
That very day, Richard Megacide went home and reasonably committed suicide.
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