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  Nov 2019 Janal Rajput
Ben Palomino
I woke up to find
a devil by my side
we began to dance
in the shadow of the
  dying sun

I look into the mirror
only to find
the spirit inside
has left my eyes

I
traded my soul
but cant recal

all was lost
and nothing gained
  Nov 2019 Janal Rajput
Ally Ann
A friend asked me
how to be a writer.
I wanted to say,
lock yourself in a room,
scream until you have
a poem and no voice.
Open your veins and bleed
until you know that your bones
are pure words and sorrow.
Act as if you slit your own throat
and all you can bleed
are your own regrets
and all of the darkness
you boxed up for inspiration.
Write your mom a letter,
tell her you're leaving
and you won't be back for awhile
Because being a writer is traveling
through all seven layers of Hell
and denying anything is wrong.
Forget loving yourself
when all you have is a pen and paper
fused to your wrist
and Jesus is tapping at your skull
saying turn back now.
Warn the neighbors that if they smell burning
It's just your soul
clawing at the front door trying to get in.
Learn how to be alone.
Learn how to lose everything you have
in order to feel release,
learn how to only feel deceased
from now on.
A friend asked me
how to be a writer.
All I said was
don't
  Nov 2019 Janal Rajput
Meera
He doesn't burn photographs
He doesn't join therapy sessions
He doesn't smoke too many cigarettes
Nor he drown himself into alcohol
He scratches his wounds daily
And never let them heal
He doesn't try to get rid of the pain
Instead he let it grow on him
He waters the seed of sorrow with his tears
He feeds it with the manure of old memories
He takes it to sleep with him
And nurtures it in himself
Till the moment when every single drop of his blood gets replaced by this pain
Until his fragile heart can bear no more
And his soul starts overflowing with emotions
That's when he dip his pen into this pain
And empty his heart on a piece of paper
He bares his soul for us to feel
He creates poetry that the world would cherish for centuries to come
That's how true poetry comes into existence
Janal Rajput Nov 2019
Where the sea kisses the land,
And Luna and Sole coincide,
Between them is a fine, fine, line,
They walk both sides of it,
Love and Hope,
In pure gold dance in diamonds and step in sunshine,
Love holds his hand showing a world to behold,
Their ambiance intoxic worth dying for it,
He could waste his youth forever,
Chasing kites, he finds no better time,
Lets them rub his back, grow in his spine,
Dancing to his own beat, two left feet,
Hope covers his eyes in the heat,

He looks back into the divide,
Where the sea kisses the land,
And Luna and Sole coincide,
There it is again, caressing his chest,
That feeling- it flows like the wind,
He sees Love elegantly dressed alone,
By the cliff-side, wanting to meet the high-tide,
Something broke, and he wanted home,
Chasing Love he screamed and wailed,
Begged her stop, she seemed so very far,
He couldn't stop her despite how he tried,
He couldn't believe it, is it true;
That some feelings can travel too?
So he watched Love meet the sea,
A silver bullet piercing the murky blue,
A shred of light glimmers in depravity,
Prayed for salvation or divine retribution,
For someone to find his center of gravity,
Maybe in the murky blue he'll find absolution,
Maybe in depravity there is the solution,
Maybe amongst the pollution and the convolution there is revolution.
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