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 Jul 2018 Cheryl
Philia
Content.
 Jul 2018 Cheryl
Philia
Why don't you just sit;
and smell the flowers.

Why don't you just enjoy the moments,
Why do you have to figure out, what's before you?

Why don't you just relax,
smell the breeze of the ocean,
feel the Sun shines on your skin,
and just feel happy about that.

Why do you have to seek for certainties,
why do you have to demand all things to be in the right places.

Why can't you just take a deep breath,
and smile for things that are happened.

Why can't you just hold my hand, and be content

>
 Jul 2018 Cheryl
Kevin
NO. 2 PENCIL
 Jul 2018 Cheryl
Kevin
His soul was woven
From a fool's whispers
By the hands of a ghost
On a loom of lies
          . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
                 . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
                        His condemnation
                        Was not so much
                        Predicated on the Lord
                        Or what part of his body
                        The Devil had enjoyed
                                 eaten and spit upon the street
               The whispers
               The echos of whispers
               Troubled him the most
               Especially at night
               When light breezes
               Muted the voices
               In an interruptive cadence
               Leaving the words unconnected
                        The burden
                        His own
                        To fill in the blank spaces
                        Connecting the dots
                        With a broken pencil
                        And an eraser
                        Worn to its metal edge
My boy suffered from schizophrenia
 Jul 2018 Cheryl
Kevin
Purpose
 Jul 2018 Cheryl
Kevin
I'm employed at a factory
20 miles from here
I make transmissions
Which lets me afford a car
With a good transmission
So I have a way
To get to work
And make transmissions
It's complicated
 Jul 2018 Cheryl
neth jones
right hand - cack hand
misinfected
an inebriant
a heat of intoxicants
'Recover Your Presence Of Mind'
i don't even have my mattress raised
from upon the floor
spilled drinks
moulds
and pages soaked to the boarding
snoring in spores
infested with messages
in nest with it all
best to withdraw
the artist
the 'madder than'
the inebriant
right ?
can one practice as a sober ?
I've never wanted to create more or been this capable before...or are the results missing something ?
something splayed
askew
scatty
splattered
hellish even ?
is it the reader ?
will we not be pleased with the results without some evidence of a soul in suffering
bewilderment
and numbing isolation?
 Jul 2018 Cheryl
Kyle Janisch
Lost within;
The sounds and vibrations
That dance all around me

Controlled chaos begins to unfold;
As my body gives in;
To the temptations;
That swarm my presence

Sweat drips;
And my body shines in the moonlight;
As I dance into the dawn
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