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 Nov 2016 bless
Ili Norizan
And that's how you lose him,
Your ignorance,
Thinking it's bliss,
Your avoidance,
Thinking it's brave,
When he tries his best to make you
Smile,
Tell you it's alright to cry,
Make you believe you deserve,
Love,
Happiness,
And the whole world,
If he could, he would;

But that's how you lose him,
When you decide it's just a game,
Thinking he's another player,
Like the rest of them,
Even though they have different names,
And he's shown nothing but how he's not the same;

So that's how you lose him,
And you're the one to blame.

@byizn
 Nov 2016 bless
James M Vines
If I only had one day to live, I would start early to make amends. I would undo all that I had done  to hurt strangers and friends and the family that I love. I would give more than I have ever given before. I would do that and just a little bit more. I would share words of kindness with everyone I saw. I would not be to busy for anyone at all. I would step outside and enjoy whatever the day would bring. I would dance whether it was sun, snow, or even dark clouds and rain. I would make each second precious because I would know it would be my last. Then when the sun set and I breathed my last, I would thank God in heaven that he let me go out this way. I would be very grateful that I had just one special day.
 Nov 2016 bless
AM
and now I know it's over,
because seeing your name doesn't feel the same,
and seeing your face doesn't take me to that place

were there are no fluorescent lights
and where I'm not alone at night.
an allusion of reality where your fingertips are golden,
an allusion that was stolen.
a conscious mind
with the wrong perception of time,
and where cheek kisses taste like cherry-lime,
and where it's my ears that get to hear you snore,
your sleepy eyes were something I could never ignore.


another light lost in the void.
I wish it was your fault.
my hands are broken while you're still golden.
my days are bitter,
every night is winter.
I feel like just a skull with tired hair,
who forgot how to care.
The only thing I need,
is more skin on my knees.
the light is leaving, slowly,
because you were my something that was holy.
 Nov 2016 bless
Austin Heath
There is an answer
to why every privileged
******* can't write;

They talk of heaven,
they preach about angels and
how they might sing, yeah,

but haven't seen one.
They haven't listened to them
and cannot hear them.

***** rhetoric
applauding their enclosure
as the door closes.

Brain dead featherweights
tethered by their bibles and
white supremacy.

"Ideology"
cult of the soul without a
purple beating heart.

***** rhetoric;
repeat Frances Scott Key and
emphasize landscape.

We've all seen the fields,
we know how green the grass is,
and how blue the sea.

Biblical visions;
worship "democracy" and
call your leader "king".

"ideology"
a mask for supremacy.
***** rhetoric.

You're going to choke
and you can't have the angels
after you **** them.
Seriously all you white folks writing the star spangled banner + Donald Trump's likeness need to stop confusing yourselves with artists and writers. Also your poetry ***** objectively, lacks originality, takes no risk, and is closer to propaganda than art. Just saying.
 Nov 2016 bless
CMD
//how raw the wound aches //

                                                      //  i see you in the sunlight //

// wrapped in our used sheet //
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