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 Nov 21 Ashriyon Thomas
Kian
In the quiet, slowly stirring,
Through the night, the dark alluring,
Came a breath, a soft recurring,
Like a sigh upon the air,

Through the woods, the shadows leaning,
Every thought within me gleaning,
Past regrets, now intervening,
Held me captive in despair,

In the stillness, something shifting,
Through the gloom, my fears were lifting,
As if fate, forever drifting,
Led me onward, unaware,

Neither sound nor sight deceiving,
But a sense, a deeper weaving,
Like a thread of truth, believing,
Guided me without a care,

Through the trees, a pathway glowing,
In the dark, a river flowing,
And my steps, now steady, showing,
That the night could not impair,

Yet the breeze, with whispers fleeting,
Told of days beyond our meeting,
Of a time when your heart's beating,
In a world that's bright and fair,

So I walked then, deeply grieving,
From the night, my doubts were leaving,
And the dawn, with light retrieving,
Showed me skies beyond compare,

In the east, the colors blending,
With the dawn, the night was ending,
And the sun, with rays ascending,
Promised hope within its glare,

Yet I knew, beneath this yearning,
As the light was slowly turning,
That the dark, forever churning,
Would return, its grip to share,

For the shadows, always creeping,
In the corners, ever sleeping,
Wait for moments, silent, keeping,
To reclaim what light can't bear,

So though morning breaks, still tender,
In my heart, I can't surrender,
For the night, in all its splendor,
Waits to catch me in its snare.
 Nov 21 Ashriyon Thomas
Kian
Body aches, and soul decays, the ocean stretches wide,
With scorching skies, and burning eyes, I’ve nowhere left to hide,
No wind to kiss these ragged sails, no stars to be my guide,
I drift in silence, hours bleed, the waves and I collide,

The sun, a hammer, beats me down, each breath a broken plea,
The thirst has left my throat a grave, the hunger gnaws at me,
The years, the months, the days are one, the tides my only sea,
Yet still, I wait—though hope is dust—for solace that won’t be,

No whispering wind, no shade in sight, no shadows on the crest,
The horizon mocks me with its calm, my heartbeat begs for rest,
A desert made of salted glass, the end a welcome guest,
I’m lost, I’m worn, I’ve come to know the drowning in my chest,

If these dead waters rise for me, I’ll sink without a sound,
Let ocean’s weight press down my bones, ‘til none of me is found,
For I have nothing left to give, no strength left to be crowned,
And if these seas shall swallow whole, then let me, too, be drowned.
 Nov 21 Ashriyon Thomas
Kian
'It'll be alright, though, won't it?

   Despite this tightness in my chest?'

(And yet,)

    Each of these moments

                                                  S

                                                   P

                                                  I

                                               L

                                                  L

                                                S

                                  direct into the next,

            'My life is so kinetic,'
         how have I this long kept my head?

        Although 'this hope may be synthetic,'

                      I think it still beats being dead
 Nov 21 Ashriyon Thomas
Sora
I don’t think they heard me
When I said I’m not okay
No one moved to comfort me
Or light my birthday cake

I don’t think they heard me
When I said “I’m feeling blue”
I was told to “ just cheer up”
“It’s completely up to you”

I don’t think they heard me
My tear-filled wails of pain
Cuz they were soon cut short
By the angry sound
Of my first and middle name

I don’t think they saw me
When i began to disappear
I don’t think they really cared
They said
“Shes never, ever here”

I don’t think they saw me
My withered, cracking shell
“She never eats or sleeps or drinks,
Shes putting us through hell.”

I don’t think they saw me
Standing right before their face
They told me“we’re sick of the lies and
all your tears are fake”
My experience
(a poem in Haiku and Senryu)

Draw a stick figure
future - sadly diminished
and chaos ransomed.

Paint the landscape
with the sweltering glare
of global warming.

Add micro-plastic
and forever chemical
flavorings to taste.

Come share this
with me - let kisses heal and
soft whispers inflame.

Some locks need two keys
to open, some heavens can
be reached by mortals.
.
.
A song for this:
All Gone Away by The Style Council
Locks that require two keys are called ‘Dual Custody’ locks. They’re most common for bank deposit boxes.
all steam evaporates
strong emotion settles
leaving the knowing;
all things in balance.
My eyes are like my fathers,
So is my heart,
No matter how much I try to undo myself,
or pick me apart,
He is a piece of me,
My bitter half.
how strange for a man to be so fully imbibed with hate
all the way to the unleashing of indiscriminate slaughter
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