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 Nov 2016 Kush
archwolf-angel
Her
 Nov 2016 Kush
archwolf-angel
Her
An ordinary girl
In the reflection she sees
Playing roles accordingly
Facades to please society

Never thought she would matter
Or even cause a stir
Because she had always been told
You are a wallflower

Never saw her own beauty
Never could believe
Because she had always been made to feel
You are not worth it

But it was her labelled flaws
That he saw as attractive features
That was when she started to truly think
*You are a beautiful creature
 Nov 2016 Kush
Erik Jon Jensen
When I left my house, the morning wore a shroud of fog.

When I arrived at the church,
I knew there would be no weddings,
(which she loved,)
only a funeral.

When I left her grave, the church-bells cried,
so I wouldn't have to.

When I finally slept,
I heard my prayers being answered
with a "I love you too sweetie."
Rest In Peace Lorraine, ninety-nine years old, eleven days shy of her 100th birthday.
 Nov 2016 Kush
annie rose
memories
 Nov 2016 Kush
annie rose
fingertips gently touching
heartbeats syncing to one
breaths of laughter, lust, anger
now I sit here, alone

coffee mug sharing
fighting over the remote
off-key screaming to songs on the radio
now I sit here, alone

hugging from behind
stealing of hats and sweatshirts
your scent, your voice, your warmth
now I sit here, alone
 Nov 2016 Kush
Star Gazer
Fly
 Nov 2016 Kush
Star Gazer
Fly
Where do I stand? Amongst the broken or amongst the strong,
A destructive song to whistle pass oncoming traffic,
Oh tragic how the tunes I hear in my head are much louder
than the clouded judgements of those just passing by
because I'm blinded. Blinded by grass in the sky, the Earth
seems hurt, confused, upside down but I keep walking,
keep crawling, as though I have shoes made of cloud
and I'm allowed to fly wherever I want.

This isn't the world that raised me up, this is the world
that hurled abuse and painful memories, just to keep me down.
It's what I've allowed and to that I say I'm walking on
because my feet sings a song, the pitter-patter beat
like sleep under a tin roof echoing the serene sounds of raindrops.
The pain stops, the tears I've heard are not falling down my face,
it is the rain, leaking between cracks of a self-made ceiling
and as healing begins, this is my start, by tearing down that roof.

My shoes are made of cloud and I am walking across the sky,
hear me sigh as I say 'this is where I should have started from'
Catacombs are built for the dead, you are breathing, you are alive,
hearts survive, and so will you, so just do me a favour...
tear that ******* roof down and fly.
 Nov 2016 Kush
Doug Potter
Remember the afternoon we watched
the police drag the lake searching
for the Williams boy as we drank
Dr. Pepper?

There was a hell of a crowd
you had both hands on
Shelly’s *** & she
****** down her

thighs when the kid
bobbed up, face
pale blue, eyes
wide.

how is it possible to close my eyes
when all that is is just passin' by
how on earth should i cover up my ears
when there is nothin' much nor else to hear

i say we truly forgot how to feel
we continue to deny to be real
'n' within those **** lies we be livin'
them unhidden plays 'n' acts we're givin'

ye'd say: 'i do feel 'n' know it all'
by thy many a 'truth' still standin' tall
now would it be no understandin' shall
'n' shall never be when we make it fall

for when we stop our minds elevatin'
then be which story we'd be creatin'


*

..love always...



عرفان بن يوسف © AH 17/10/1437


'a (pentameter / freestyle rhymescheme) Sonnet'
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