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 Aug 2012 Deepsha
AapkiHamesha
Meet me at the coffee shop
Around eleven o clock
Talk while the moon will rise
Bring me back, to my mind
Listen to the haze
Of Luna's serenade
Your curious gaze
Impossible to evade
 Aug 2012 Deepsha
CA Guilfoyle
The dawn, still the quiet embers
linger, wander, falling under
spells to uncover

Hands grasped golden nights
music fiery, blazed the heavens
mingling with starlight

Morning birds on wing,
dawn of sacred blessings  
calling lovers home
 Aug 2012 Deepsha
Ahmad Cox
Darkness rises
When we least expect it
Darkness rises
It can feel like a cloak
Heavy and cold
Choking us
Smothering
Choking out the light
It can feel like
The light has gone out for good
You can start to wonder if you will ever
Feel that light again
If you will ever feel that peace
It can be easy
To lose faith
To wonder if God even cares
If he has forsaken you
You must endure
The darkness never lasts forever
Joy and light
Are waiting in the morning
 Aug 2012 Deepsha
matt nobrains
i sit and strum my guitar tunelessly
listening as each of the chords
strike a dissonant
exclamation in my mind.
i play without intent,
letting my fingers
guide a symphony
of sorrow over
the frets.
it's not the kind of music
you listen to as you cry.
it's the kind of music you
make when you
can't feel.
it's not the kind of music
you listen to for pleasure.
it's the kind of music
you hear in your pain.
it's not the sound of the
oceans driving home
sense,
it's the sound of the desert
inside you drying
your soul to
a shell.
atonal
noise.
On a day like today
When the clouds have hidden the sun
And the wind is cool and rain threatens,
I brew tea.

On a night like last night
When sadness is a knife
And salt stings my cheeks,
I brew tea.

When inspiration strikes,
When night descends,
When love leaves,
When friends come,
When rain falls,
When sadness calls,
I brew tea.
I'm British.  Here's my love poem to tea.
And we all shine on.
            The thorn of love that is invisible to strangers.
            Here comes the husband’s attitude again. Pass with Care.
            Here comes the husband’s paycheck again. Pass with Care.
And here we have the husband’s mistress again. And she passed with care.
Now, we have this baby girl. One more piece for the puzzle-family:
“And you know I ain’t never want no half nothing in my family.
My whole family is half. Everybody got different fathers and mothers.”

Sacrifice, Mama. Ain’t that what it’s all about?
Rose. Rose. The one who is already risen.            

When you banished him from your bed, did he contort his frame
and slug his way toward the door,
continued down the hallway
and down the stairs
to leech away the ghost of that emotion that Tallahassee-big-hipped-girl gave him?

Give your daughter, now, the hungry fatigue that you had to acquire. Pass with care.
And now you stand with this goblet in your arms.
Goblet of light. Golden flower in your heart and in your brain. This baby girl --
            Breather of the goodness in the world.
DISCLAIMER: The character Rose is from August Wilson's play Fences. Rose is a wife who learns that her husband Troy has a child with another woman. Rose reacts by banishing Troy from her bed but taking in the child after the mother dies during childbirth. I quote Rose as well because her voice should be heard just as much as my voice in order to develop her identity.
 Aug 2012 Deepsha
K Balachandran
the fat  black hen
that looked
a symbol of something
hidden, one can't
exactly pin point what;
ubiquitous,
around the courtyard,
busy racking up trash
for something to peck at,
vanished at the moment
it was in high demand.
Who would think
it could be perfidious
like this?
When the oracle demanded
fresh blood of a black hen,
as sacrifice for a dark divinity,
none could guess
it would vanish in to thin air!
Some blame went to foxes,
on the prowl,
some thought
the  black magic men
who seeks to gain
powers supernatural,
by spilling blood
of hens and civet cats
are responsible for this
let down!
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