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She smelled of earthly verse
and soft scented lust of poetry
and her name burned
in the forest of the tiger
where pleasure was forged
from sins desire
and sewn into petals
made of flesh in shape of flower
and what god or man would dare
to venture and give prayer
to offer their heart to sacrifice
for the blessing
of the kingdom and universe
she keeps hidden
beneath her *******
where love is found
in the scent of her earthly verse
and lust for poetry
There is a streetlight
Outside my window.
It shudders and shakes
And makes the world
As bright as it can
For as long as it can
Before dying
A thousand times a minute.
It cannot decide to shine
Or go dark
Or leave this place behind.
It clings to the importance
Of its flickering life
Across the darkest part of the world.
As if the intermittences
Of its appointment
Will save a life
Or move a mountain
Or light the way.
It gives itself over and over
For an empty street
In a wasteland
Without a soul to behold
It’s glorious sacrifices.
If I had a say in this
Or anything at all
I would whisper to the dying light
And lower it gently down
Into the darkness with me.
I would show it what is left
Of my own shudders
And we could both sleep
Knowing we are not as alone
As we were before.
Leaving the blue-black street
To the moon
And the stars
Or whoever is left
With some light to spare.



Cape Dorset
2018
As I lie here
With eyes closed softly
I think deeply of you
And I inhale stars
The scent of twinkling light
So fresh and alive
Sparkling gentle inside me
And I want to write this feeling
So tentatively
As it must be
Like writing words on bubbles
Delicate and precious
Begging them not to disappear
Like dreams in the morning

                                        By Phil Roberts
This may well be my last poem here.
When you were a young child,
you wore your naive head in the clouds.
The vastness of space was your limit,
there were no social norms to worry about.

Growing up they told you,
you should pretend that you don't care,
so when your hopes would get devastated,
disappointment could give you a spare.

And now you find yourself wondering:
when did I stop following my ambition?
The thing you regret most when you die,
is your passion's creeping omission.

Besides, how can you ever win a game,
that out of fear you did not participate in?
Without your dreams you're a soulless ghost,
like a concaved snake's skin.

If only you're bold enough to walk your own path,
alienated and without an established map.
You will soon realize that your passion's just waiting,
for your courage to close the gap.
I came to realize that in our society less people are brave enough to dream and follow their passions. No one should be judged by his ability to dream of what he/she can be. No one should have to feel ashamed to openly express what you are passionate about. It is courageous and commendable to pursue your goals.
Never forget you can be whatever you want if only you believe in yourself!
Have you heard of Alice,
The girl in Wonderland?
I am sure you have.
The problem, you see
lies in the words you didn't read.
The part the writer did not need.
While Alice laid upon a bed,
Her mother watched and stroked her head.
The doctors said it was psychosis
And so they gave her higher doses.
She's over-stressed,
She is a mess,
But every day she takes her meds.
She can't find Wonderland again
And so she uses pad and pen
To write some poems, oh so sad
But they help others feel less bad
And that will help her feel less ******,
The closest thing she feels to happy.
May make changes
 Feb 2018 Lahkeesha Ghastin
calm
'the perfect royalty.'
funny.
funny how it rhymes with your disloyalty, princess.
the world's been wondering where you've been.

no, no one knows how hard your life is.
how hard it is to lie.
no, no one knows how scarred your mind is,
or how bent you are to smile.

'the perfect royalty.'
funny.
hilarious how your title rhymes with your cruelty, acquiesce?
the school's been asking questions 'bout where you've been seen.

no, no one knows how tough this act is.
this character's a show.
no, no one's guessed how rough the fact is
that your life's not one they know.

'the perfect royalty'.
huh.
doesn't mean you're perfect too, you're just a novelty, do you attest?
the mirror's looking for you 'cause you're hiding from its screen.

no, no one understands your worries.
no one cares about your strife.
no, they want to see new accessories,
or else just quit this life.


'the perfect royalty'?
Wasn't sure about this hut decided to post anyway.
1632

So give me back to Death—
The Death I never feared
Except that it deprived of thee—
And now, by Life deprived,
In my own Grave I breathe
And estimate its size—
Its size is all that Hell can guess—
And all that Heaven was—
1277

While we were fearing it, it came—
But came with less of fear
Because that fearing it so long
Had almost made it fair—

There is a Fitting—a Dismay—
A Fitting—a Despair
’Tis harder knowing it is Due
Than knowing it is Here.

They Trying on the Utmost
The Morning it is new
Is Terribler than wearing it
A whole existence through.
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