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Sorry my beauty
Your lying eyes
just told the truth
 Mar 2017 Sisilia
Graff1980
My Hand
 Mar 2017 Sisilia
Graff1980
You suffered so I smiled and I offered you my hand
It is just a tool to lift you up and help me understand
Were you come from were you have been
Suffering without anyone to call to help your suffering end
At first your eyes were averted in shame and guilt
I think I can kind of understand how that felt
But I tried to help you to see
You are not alone because we are all part of the same family
I can’t offer you cash or a place to stay
I haven’t been exactly were you are or felt the exact same way
All I have is this hand that I offer you in love and friendship
And I hope you realize that we share this kinship
You are my brother in spirit and blood
You are my children in responsibility and love
So I give the best part of me that have
A hand to lift you up and a joke to make you laugh
 Mar 2017 Sisilia
Ola Radka
Risk
 Mar 2017 Sisilia
Ola Radka
Risk is everywhere.

To cry is to risk being sentimental.

To dream is to risk being disappointed.

To laugh is to risk being a fool.

To love is to risk not being loved in return.

But when we are not willing to risk,
We don’t grow in life.
Life loses its power.
We may be safe
But
We are lifeless.

*The greatest risk of all
Is
To risk nothing.
 Mar 2017 Sisilia
Cate
rummage sale
 Mar 2017 Sisilia
Cate
My tongue flicks
Absent mindedly
Discovering and rediscovering
The new sensation
Of a missing tooth
Or a kernel of food
wedged in my gums
Or a ****** cheek
Bit ferociously while chewing.

In my same manor
My thoughts stroke
the idea of you,
Feeling for any new details
i may have missed
My first time
across your surface.

a mark, wrinkling
beneath your eye
a small  tattoo
above your elbow
a delicate crease
where your head
meets your neck.

Subtleties of self
are everything to me.
you hold your cigarette
between hits,
bent backwards between
thumb and *******
as if subconsciously,
you know
you’re damning yourself.

You hold your elbows
When you cross your arms
As though you are afraid,
Should you relax your grip
The contents of your chest
Will spill out before you
Like a toppled canister
Of produce remnants,
Juicy, sloppy, and sopping

But you speak quietly,
like a discarded bag
of shredded documents.
Rustling with partial importance
I try to piece together
your comments
almost as though your words
hang beneath the weight
of your breath
as an afterthought
of your exhalation.

I watch you
watch me,
calmly calculating
baiting conversations
with tactful insinuation
and later,

in deep rumination
they replay.
I select the moments
That fit the narrative
I've created,
rummaging through
until what I want
you to mean
is all I hear you say.
Serenity passed through the mountains,
Through green pastures,
Through a silver moon,
But my Love?

Passes through wars -
Falls in blood and tears,
Turmoil, and doubt;

But always -
Falling deeper in Love for you.
Random gushy shizz at 1 AM.
 Mar 2017 Sisilia
Anne Webb
How does it feel to be free?
Maybe unlike birds who fly high in the sky,
people can only feel free when they die.
I might write another poem on the topic of being free...
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