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She would vanish if she could
Disappeared and gone for good
But then again she never understood
How much she needed to be

The world a land of passing glances
Fading dreams and phony chances
Made it so I’d find she dances
Betwixt reality and a dream

And there she’d sit in silent splendor
The realest of dreams wanting to surrender
Because of a reality that had rendered
Her unable to fly

And so in silent rage, sadness, fear
The dream wished she could disappear
And soon she’ll be away from here
Without so much as a goodbye
 Apr 2018 Alima Tekeyeva
Poonam
I shed my tears in form of words
spiralling on a page
as a snake sheds it skin
dumping my rage
and the person I had been
can we at least agree that what started
as a cartesian mind-body duality
complex, has suddenly become
a dichotomy, a ghetto for the mind
and a themepark for the body...
                      notably?
i still think it would be worthwhile
to look into producing gym electricity
by modifying treadmills
so that the hamsters could give back
something a field or an endless
        chess board of slabbed concrete
effortlessly provides.
losing all
your will
your everything
until a shell
flat broke
with money
becomes of you
full of angry
frustrated
and raging
confusion
so now here I am
existing without enemy
and what's next...
is nothing special,
day in and day out
alone
empty
in a room
with battle trinkets
and more nothings
describing situations
long past
remembering awful things
in convoluted ways
dreaming of past missions
loves, friends and reasons
coloring in the edges
to make for a more
palatable being
to be remembered
with glee and reverence
in satisfaction...
but for long
it never lasts
and now all's collapsing
on all sides
losing structure
becoming distorted
leading to dilapidation
like an abandoned diorama
left to ruin
left to weather
left to be forgotten
my mother always said...
"memories cannot save themselves"
- grave yards are stupid
It was real,
Not fantastic,
I got no flowers,
He was not romantic,
Its better before you know what you want,
So much easier is the response,
But expectations create such work,
Some die and some get hurt,
It must to be real
You cannot pretend,
There is no fairy tale end…….
Just a thin line,
Slave or master?
What is “happily ever after”?
©B L Costello 2018
 Apr 2018 Alima Tekeyeva
skyler
people change everyday
so i vow to fall in love with you
every time the sun rises

s.s
Loosey goosey, Gary Busey
Makes more sense than you!
What do you see, big kaboosie?
What would Vladdy Putin do?

Fussy wussy, presidential woosy
Tell a whole buncha more lies.
Flappy *****, big **** slappy
The best your money buys.

Choppy woppy, never stoppy
Even when caught on tape.
Shouty, pouty, tough it outy
Completely out of shape.

Fleecer, squeezer, ugely obese
Shadow of your youth
Ripoff, tipoff, always lipoff.
Incapable of truth.

Heapy cheapy, never sleepy
Won’t pay your own bills.
Brainless pain, runaway train,
All your ideas can ****.

Neego, peego, bloated ego
The little kids you scare,
Shard, pard, big tub of lard,
As attractive as your hair.
 Apr 2018 Alima Tekeyeva
rom
i fear the Summer
for Dawn arrives early and her touch that rouses the sky
sends you promptly to sleep
while i am left alone in this blinding light

i fear the Autumn
for when she approaches,
the leaves that conceal my longing for your embrace
gently fall to the terrain underneath

i fear the Winter
for she strips me naked
and destroys the guise i made from the canopy of my brethren –
the canopy that shielded my grotesque body and gnarled veins from your gaze

and i mostly fear the Spring
for when the evening comes and the Wind sings her tune,
sweeping my leaves into her trail,
i wish for her to carry them to you
where i am reminded once more that nothing on this land can reach you
during the night
(since this burning desire that shall remain as it is will never curtail our distance)
and moreso during the day
(when you slowly fade from my sight)
wew first piece for 2018 ! inspired while I was in the campus of ADMU
 Apr 2018 Alima Tekeyeva
Ciel
Darling,
you wear your sadness so well.
I wish it would rain every day so I could constantly witness
the way your cheeks glow with the tears falling from your eyes
or the thunder of your voice as you sob through the night.
I love the way your brain tosses
and turns
and rummages
inside your skull
picking at old threads and littered notes.

I just hate cleaning up after a rampaging storm.
It's snowing in April
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