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Life is a maze,
Some of us get lost along the way.
Inspired by poetic T
Everything you said
Was really true, I have found;
Truth like what you told
Doesn't set me free, sadly
I feel bound to change myself.
A fairy poked my little nose
And gave me a sense of adventure
And now every time that I'm held back
I wonder what that scent was meant for.
 May 2014 Antonena Ishkova
MKF
You may not be a knight,
My dear,
But you shine like one's armor.
Your horse
Is a 2011 mustang
And though you don't have a sword
You still pierce my heart.
You may not be a hero,
My dear,
But you might be the one to save me.
For Trevor
I thought I'd pen a jolly rhyme
But, then I ran out of time.
Then I thought I'd be sublime
But, then I went all pantomime.
Then I thought I'd commit a crime
But, got put off by the splatter and slime.
Then I thought its supper time
And drank a bottle of turpentine.
Didn't I say I ran out of time, for a jolly rhyme?
© JLB
In soot black darkness we lie
between thin, worn out sheets.
A cheap hotel, false names,
cash only, no trace.
Our bodies became a canvas
to sin. We pivoted on an axis of
need, our madness and sadness
lost amongst the tobacco stained walls.
From chin to shin we've tasted,
tainted lust, clung mewling to each other
anchored in this, coal black, soot black,
ebony black night.
Skin to sin we wait for daylight, its
redemption, and chagrin and sadness
to leave. Anxious and unbalanced
we wait for planets to align, so that we
may await the day that this darkness
fades to grey
© JLB
I wish I could gather all your broken pieces ,
and heel the scars that the shatter had left in you.

But here I am, oblivious of how to gather my own wreckage.
Inspired by someone.
 May 2014 Antonena Ishkova
irinia
ask your blood
your limbs, your breathing feet
what Poetry is -
a phylogenetic anomaly
in light’s discontinuity

or just…
the strange yearning of hematopoiesis

ask the silence in your lungs
the bursting DNA, reinterpreted
how it allures memory inside your bones
how it treads conventions of sleep
with the weight of a sigh

if you ask me
what Poetry is
I’d say: breath calligraphy
a winged dream of depth
on enchanted retina
the bitter-sweet art of airy harmony

ask your hands
what Poetry is
perhaps they’ll take a moment
to bloom
We walk this world
as if it's our own
and we destroy it
like we can fix it afterwards

We waste so many ideas,
so many lives;
We tell so many lies,
we hate so many things

We walk this world
as if it's our own
and we destroy it
like we can fix it afterwards

We act as if we rule others,
as if we don't need them;
We burn so many bridges,
we ruin so many buildings

We walk this world
as if it's our own
and we destroy it
like we can fix it afterwards

We'll never understand
and we'll never listen;
We'll never pay attention
and we'll never take care

We walk this world
as if it's our own
and we destroy it
like we can fix it afterwards.

We'll never give,
but we'll always be given
We'll never get what we want
and we'll never know what it is

We walk this world
as if it's our own
and we destroy it
like we can fix it afterwards.
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