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 Sep 2016 Illya Oz
Melanie Kate
Just a disappointment

I don't hate,
It’s just wasteful-
Breathing in
and never breathing out.

The space is empty
with crammed tug-of-wars
dragging my heart,
Heart dragging months.

I don't think
any less or worse-
Character undefined. Always repetitive.
Bored of the ****
pulling over old paintings;
Same as yesterday,same as before.

I don't cry
for actions cowardly
shunted inwards;
Explosion due released.
The shedding tears,
carving maps upon lips,
design attention
inward reaps deliverance.

I don't hurt
for lacking sensitivity-
desire for one embellished
with lapping present conviction.
The same minuscule point,
returned again and again-
Intentions to change;
Stairwell to nowhere.
(c) Mel D. Ltd. (10 Oct. 09) 2009
 Sep 2016 Illya Oz
Melanie Kate
Sometimes the sway feels like marching
Marching like I’m dreaming
While sleeping with the wind
Upon a sailing, swaying sea.

                                                  These dreams carried me here
                                                  Fleets of souls past
                                                  Lost in my sail boats

These dreams become my home
Because the horizon is gone
And the sun is night,
The moon and stars my life, my love.

I may not know where I’m going
But I feel this forward rise and fall
And the march in my heart
Drums with a knowing beat, beat, beat.

Success swims beneath these bodies of water
The air stirs my hair and soul
Lifting me above unknowns
To a place, I’m taking myself, really slowly.
MKD (c) 2015
 Sep 2016 Illya Oz
Melanie Kate
Moments like these racing through me:
Looking out the bus window,
stacks of lights
in square, blinded blocks of cement.
Golden trees
turning brown and barren.
But moments like these,
I'm miles away, I'm someplace else.



Moments like these passing me by:
As I wonder through streets,
alleyways wafting in dark sewerage;
Seafood bistros glaring at me.
My hips sway, my feet sink
into exotic sand, sunshine warm.
Floating effortlessly along the dead concrete,
opening my tiny door; this nutshell abode.


And I can’t breathe here
without moments like these.
They are the broken pieces
of my longing heart.
Slowly keeping me together
in these moments’ reality.


Moments like these, slipping, speeding away:
Like endless traffic in angry madness,
in cities that awaken in darkening hours.
The tranquil silence in my heart
guides me to your faces.
One by one I dream for each;
For all the things we want, the good things we need;
For happiness, love, success.
Each thought embedded, embroidered
into moments like these:
Sitting on a bed, millions of miles away,
a cold, rainy day –
A heart beating for moments not these.



(c) Mel D.  Ltd. 2010
(C) MKD 2010
 Sep 2016 Illya Oz
Sourodeep
Ink
 Sep 2016 Illya Oz
Sourodeep
Ink
Scratching for quite some time
on this blank white page,
my emotions flow
shine and glow
till the emptiness
imbibes my thoughts
like raindrops after a **drought.
I love fountain ink pens :)
.
Smile at the world,
See what doesn't happen,
The moon is so sharp
And indifferent in the sky,
The lovers sink as they try
Never knowing each fall
Of smile as they eye.

Smile in the overgrowths,
The wastelands of the mind,
Touch the ghosts at meetings,
They will shock you raw,
White as the moon rages
And the sun, cold burning
Each day as it brands you.

Let go, let your face rest,
There are no smiles real
As you dream them to be,
Let your life be limp as death,
See the waters as they climb,
Up from the muddy tomb,
So few can feel rising.
 Sep 2016 Illya Oz
Crimsyy
My heart's a fountain of blood,
spiraling out of control,
you're the one who tugs tightly,
I'm on constant patrol,

Drink me, make me feel real,
behold my soul to your eyes,
memorise every inch,
so you'll never say goodbye

Leave me now,
prowl for my mind tonight,
I'll invent a face
for my name's sake.
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