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  Dec 2024 Carlo C Gomez
Emma
I'll burn the whole world down,
drinking shot after shot,
a line of ******* tracing
the fault lines of my ruin.
She whispered his name—
it slid like silk through the cracks,
a prayer I should not answer,
a hymn to something broken.

Her partner, cold as winter steel,
turned away with hands clenched,
fists full of silence,
but I saw her,
wild and animalistic,
a creature of the night.
Her fragile wings folded
against my aching eyes,
her shadow heavy
like a sin I craved to confess.

She was sunlight
rising from the deep blues of the ocean,
vast and wide,
always hungry,
her voice a melody
in languages my soul knew by heart.
She spoke,
and every tongue became one,
every word a wound
that bled longing.

She misses her mother—
that ghost of neglect,
that monument to pain.
Her tragedy, buried deep,
roots twisting around the ruins
of love she'd never known.

And me,
a weary traveler
with no map for her labyrinth,
I found her like a storm
finds a broken shore.
She burned her trust—
ashes of what could never be—
but still,
I lit my match.
  Dec 2024 Carlo C Gomez
Snehith Kumbla
I love slow,
not snailish,
random acts,
but where one is
relieved, revealed

in their yawn and
stretching of limbs,
a little scratch
in the ribs,
stomach

like an animal
absently fluffing
up fur...
a spread of charm,
wayward hair

strand curled
curled to a spiral,
deep guttural sigh
of a woman asleep
over her lush hair

or walking quietly
under the trees
trance-gazing
a stray cotton seed,
helicoptering dry leaf,

squirrel run...
I love slow,
gentle sidestep
dance to it,
revolve of

lissome waist to music,
liquid spread
in a hot pan,
still breath
between kisses

sea waves licking
up the feet,
slithering afar,
time nibbling
away...
  Dec 2024 Carlo C Gomez
Emma
He eats at my soul with a lover's slow hand,

Each bite a hymn, each wound carefully planned.

His silence, a gospel, his shadow a prayer,

I light every candle, but he's always there.

A feast in the dark where no one can stand.
  Dec 2024 Carlo C Gomez
SiouxF
Under the velveteen red moon
I shall come a knocking,
Raising you from your slumber
Of dreamless sleep,
To cast your eye over your earthly deeds.
Will there be moments of wonder and awe?
Love, comfort and joy?
Or regrets and self-loathing?

You only have one chance at this game called life,
So throw the dice,
And make of it what you will,
No matter what life throws you.

But I beseech you to play the winner,
Not the victim,
Be your own warrior to the end,
Courage and compassion
Your soulmates,
And love, your sword.
  Dec 2024 Carlo C Gomez
Nat Lipstadt
~ for the grandson of an extraordinary man~
<>
the supply chain, which unless
you’re a logistics aficionado,
is  
alot of ve-hicles, planes,
trains, ocean going monster ships,
& shaking hands of humans, of a
Heinz variety of colors,
who give nary a moment to what
it is they are moving across a planet

all miraculous in the ordinary
schema, but when you slump
in the recliner, and think about
chains, and the reach extraordinary

you issue a curse of admiration and
lean back and think, with luck,
I’ll never have to move ever again,

and more moment’s preserved,
to serve and be served,
for all us deserving,

to let words and visions get
passed around, and the supply
chain unchains
the human soul for
the best thing us you~mans can truly
produce,
the art of new creation


4:07am
  Dec 2024 Carlo C Gomez
Unpolished Ink
Life is the threshold
existence is a windy doorway
8 word view
In the village where my grandmother lives,
chestnuts are plentiful,
encased in prickly shells.
They drop from the trees,
hitting the ground with a thud,
and crack open to reveal their fruit inside.
I love collecting them,
immersed in the magical stillness of the forest.
The scent of rhododendron luteum sweet, unforgotten.
Our years resemble stones,
stacked one atop the other.
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