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 May 2016 Kush
Commuter Poet
Sorry
 May 2016 Kush
Commuter Poet
You say
You are sorry

That's noble
And brave

But what I want
Is change

Only then
Will the apology
Mean something real
To me
4th May 2016
 May 2016 Kush
Vanessa Gatley
Its real
But if I stay busy
Maybe I wont find it
That complicated
Over think it
.,...
Reminiscent
Impartial
I'm dissent
With myself
Even sitting gets my heart beating

Hard
Caved in
Retort
 May 2016 Kush
m i a
[ g r a d e s ]
 May 2016 Kush
m i a
your grades do not define you
your grades do not define
your grades do not
*your grades do.
school is one of the leading causes for over- stresssed teens, your grades don't define you. You are greater than a couple of numbers.
 May 2016 Kush
Little Bear
Ordinary
 May 2016 Kush
Little Bear
Do you have any idea just how ordinary I am?
Do you see that you are so much more than me?
I can never be as much as you want
and you will always be more than I can have.
I am left behind and you are so far in front I cannot see you.
I am nothing that you would want
and you are everything to me.
Do not make me more than I am because
I will let you down.
I will never live up to what you perceive of me.
I'm not as amazing as you think,
I am so very less than ordinary.
I am self doubt and loss and everything tragic that is not enough.
I am so very less than ordinary,
So very nothing.
Nothing you would want.
But look at you.
Look at you all shiny and bright.
I wish so very much that I was more like you.
So shiny.
So bright.
You are beautiful...
and I am unworthy of your breath.
Your sight.
Your senses...
they would scream out in protest
if they knew how very very less than ordinary I am.
Please do not look my way.
I do not deserve to see,
to hear,
to breathe.
I wish I could wrap myself into an invisible ball
and you would forget my very existence.
It pains me to know you can see me.
That you know I am here,
existing despite your insistence
that I am something more than ordinary.
Please know that I am not.
As the sun rises and the sun sets,
as mankind is born and dies,
know that I am so very very less than ordinary,
Please don't look for me.
See only that I am not here.
Re-posted from a previous account.
Some times the old stuff I wrote is just as relevant today as it was then.
 May 2016 Kush
Lora Lee
Potatoes
 May 2016 Kush
Lora Lee
Heartbeats fast
whispers and plans
a mother's heart conflicted
as she wrings her hands
through the courage,
streaming tears
        she will let him go
despite her fears
Outside, canines barking harsh
men's cruel shouts
she must say her goodbyes
as the shots ring out
So many kisses
on his sweet, sleepy face
         little man deep in slumber,
in angelic grace
yes, he cried for a minute
as the morphine kicked in
and she rocked him and rocked him
his little frame, so thin
Now as his father takes him
she crumples to the wall
"By the will of God may I see
him again" she whispers
for he is her all
Outside the freeze
puffs breath into clouds
the quiet imperative for
             this next move:
Father gently slips son
into the rough-hewn jute,
No rotten potatoes today, no
this is far more important
No one will look for a tot
in a potato sack, he hopes
He looks around and slips
through the hole in the wire
These moments are critical
the need for speed is dire
A quick trip to the village
           in the black cloak of night
looking over shoulder
Finally the house…it's just there,
the next meadow over
the secret knock is sounded
and the door opened in silence
warm arms greeting, helping
carry the goods inside
Will this be a respite
from all the endless violence?
            Laid gingerly on the bed,
the sack is eased off gently
no potatoes inside
just a small sleeping boy
his parents only pride
Father strokes his hair,
Lays his palms on his head
to bless this bundle of sweetness
in his new environment
"I will come for you, my son"
tucks thin blanket around
and the deed is done
and now, in the cold lonely
smoldering air
of the burning dark
now in the kiss of hopeful protection
yes, now it's time to part

Back to his wife in the ghetto's
cold, sickened  space
to try to convince her
to bust out of that twisted place
You are my warrior, you
and all the others
Your spirit beats on
in my
     naked heart's
            thunder
For my grandfather, badass survivor partisan
who saved my father (and also survived)during the Holocaust by smuggling him out of the ghetto to farmers in a sack of potatoes
My grandmother never made it
Tonight is Holocaust Remembrance Day eve in my part of the world
 May 2016 Kush
jane taylor
precious innocent soul
skipping rocks
on cobblestone roads
vulnerable untarnished pure
no residue of earthly soil

return me to that naiveté
unburdened by layers
of fake masks
and perfect capped teeth
in narcissistic societies

but I shan’t grasp
at ethereal edges
of nebulousness
and ephemeral
innocence

i shall endure
what I abhor
a master’s soul
cannot be forged
in paradise

wisdom’s essence
‘tis not pristine white
hints of ivory
tinge the effervescence
of the sage’s breath

©2016janetaylor
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