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''We share our cups of coffee marks as a bridge between friends, ''
Said Naimah.'' We share a few moments of good-hearted cheer, ''
Said Frederick.'' ''Love can die, but a friendship never ends.''
''Love is endless, '' ''I'm a widow, harrowed with grief and fear, ''

''I've lost my wife, and now I must take care of my unique son.''
''Where do you go? '' ''I'm going to Morocco, firstly,
And then, I'm going to Egypt.'' ''I think it can't be easily done.''
''I have a brother who can help me because I'm worthy.''

''You left your home, '' ''I couldn't pay the taxes for my land.
So, I abandoned my village and fled to the town,
But many people did it like me; I had to understand
That the agriculture shrank; the food prices put me down.''

''The price of the Turkish silver fell and that of gold increased.
Your raw goods became cheap for the European traders
Who could buy trades of very large amounts of stock from the east.
They were developed and exported back; friends turned to haters.''

''Their products were cheaper while having a better quality
To undermine your local businesses and craft guilds.''
'' They worked using new methods in their factories.''
''Due to our government, which this kind of bridges builds.


I've found a job in the lowest town's level as a servant.
At school, my son saw the education as his only outlet.
While dealing with angry people, I felt lost in this current.''
''You should understand this situation from the outset.''’

(He talked with Frederick about Maya, his sister.)

A strange man having icy eyes embarked for Lisbon at noon.
He wore an amulet around his neck on its leather string.
He brought three dogs while whistling the air of an unknown tune.
His cruel face looked like wanting tears from around to wring.

This strange man wore a black suit, a black hat, and a black cloak
Having equal pleats over the shoulders; his face was shrouded
In mystery; he started to walk as wanting to provoke
Fear; he searched for an employee because his room was crowded

With unusual things and he didn't have space for the dogs.
He wanted a face-to-face meeting with the captain.
He looked over at Frederick saying, ''Tell your rats and hogs
That my room must be clean; they must work for that to happen.'’

He sat down at a nearby table and decided
It was time to pay the price to Frederick for the travel.
He said, ''this is the best way to get you excited.''
He gave Frederick five rubies thick as the gravel.
(Frederick started to talk with this stranger man, who decided to confess.)
‘’In the third century, Corfu was invaded and conquered
By pirates from Illyria; later, they were driven out
By the autonomic Romans; though is kinda awkward,
I found an old treasure map; I bought that land; I’m a scout.’’

Geraldine knew that Frederick did not want to betray her
Because he wanted to be the father of her child.
She wanted his burden not to be more than he could bear
She was afraid that losing control could make her feel beguiled.

Frederick wanted his son to be captain of a ship
And to go together to do business in Italy.
He lost his dream love while being with her in the time slip.
While talking they didn't lie to each other prettily.

(The carrack was sailing to Syracuse.)

Frederick was the master and Brisbon was his mate.
He has always told Brisbon what he wished to be done.
Brisbon commanded the sailors and he was really great.
When he screamed, ''Steer, trim, sail, '' to their duty they had to run.


Sam and Sulim were steersmen while Gian and Aldo were corners.
Suaram, Cosma, and Dino were gunners while Ismail
Was carpenter; Fargo was swabber and boatswain while Hector
Was a cooper; Abseil was a quartermaster; to sail


Gino, Nico, and John hoisted the sails, got the tacks aboard
While hauling the bowlines, and steering the ship when needed.
Ibrahim cooked, furled the sails, slung the yards and washed the board.
Maya was a cook, or a quack when the rules were not heeded.


Aldo screamed, ''Sulim, I see land on the horizon! ''
''Impossible, there must be only sea until Syracuse.''
''The compass had a big variation for no reason, ''
Said Freddy, ''we're in a wrong place; I need a valid excuse! ''

(To be continued…)

Poem by Marieta Maglas
this is americana.

this is the sound of family get-togethers,
or the lack thereof.
the sound of awkward pleasantries
because we see each other
twice a year on the major
holidays. there are birthday cards
sent back and forth, necessary
games of monotonous tag and we
bleed our thoughts in between the
general conversations, we look
into each other's eyes and share thoughts
telepathically. we are not close,
but we are joined.

this is americana,
small town edition.
they call you family as
they look through your cupboards
for ***** dishes. they smile
and laugh with you as they dish
out gossip and revenge. they
stab a knife into your butcher-block
counter top. they sever your spinal
cord and make you a puppet, a
voicebox spitting out the message. they
make you their ***** and they call it
friendship.

this is americana.
grilling burgers and hot dogs
on the fourth of july, fireworks
across the town, city, nation.
you drive on interstates for miles
and miles and miles and every tree looks
the same even with mountains behind it,
until there's nothing but a great red
stretch of desert and you wonder if
the cactus really holds water, but the
honda civic or the minivan or the f-150
is going too fast to stop and find out.
you end up in a thousand starbucks,
a million mcdonalds, a billion little places
filled with a trillion little life forms
and you think about the way home smells,
how your mom made the home baked goods
when you were little but stopped as you
grew because not everything stays
golden.

this is americana.
united we stand, divided we
fall. we repeat a pledge from birth,
more often than we call for our parents
and before you learn what you're
promising. they say our nation is a
melting ***, free of religion, discrimination
and hate. we see a different truth;
we still say "god" as we pledge to a bleeding
country; races of every color suffer, every
gender is beaten down by society, and
we are not allowed to define, to own
ourselves unless we're white, rich, "powerful".
americana is a genre, a taste, a sugar-coated
glimpse into promise and unbeatable dreams.
the truth is we're all in debt, we're being
drowned out by the wealthy, we're all falling
prey to the powers that be.

we are americana, and we are broken.
whatever you believe, let us pray
that there is a chance left to
heal.
Happy Fourth of July?
I’m sorry if this sounds creepy
I just want to say thank you.
You have changed me in ways that few can or will.
You embody everything I wanted in a person but knew that was far too much.
You are a perfect purple pink sunset, suddenly
the stars seem a little closer, you give me reason to chase the sun,
the energy to take last step after last step.
I will never forget the moment, a timeless room past midnight you
talking with this hypnotic mix of innocence blended with this ackcute knowledge of
mountains of ****,
of the horrors of hospitals with this immortal love of life.
The only way to live a good life is to live a life.
You are a protecter of a life.
You will spin the wheel in the circle of life.
Thank you.

I have met gods among us and heroes yet none as pure as your spirit.
You fight poison without ever taking a step against it,
subelty was never my strong suite.
I don’t want to sing a song that even deaf people have memorized
yet how many different takes on one emotion can we get?
You are brilliant like the way the traffic lights reflects a green into
the green tree in a park at night but only fifty times more stunning.
Your voice, flows yet the direction never certain.
We have  the same gods it’s just you are making heaven
a nicer place.
We could share a seat, driving different directions
but close enough to love.
You dance so stunningly yet make the floor feel even.
I don’t really know what to write but
if you ever want a new boyfriend please let me know.
So the last poem I wrote was inspired by her, sorry if this is very cliched but any feedback is super welcome I might send this to her but first I want to perfect it so please any feedback helps!
Reflection of everything i'm not:
tall, confident, strong, yet graceful and simple,
Walking side by side with me, in perfect harmony.

Her size and shape change now and then
But then i tiptoe!  
She has to look taller! Stronger!

Unlike me,  She never wonders
If nothing was blocking the light,
Would masks slowly disappear like shadows?
If I were to die
Later, tomorrow, or now
Would anyone care?
Will my death affect the world?

I know it will
Though I may be hated at home

I know
There is someone out there
Who's willing to hear me out

I can't give up yet
Because I'd rather be miserable
Than, make the person who loves me miserable
I can still live another day
I know you can do it
Don't give up yet.
The moment when someone notices,
                               and they hold you so tight,

*You have no choice but to let everything out.
Something I need.
I long for the time,
when you are not “you”,
or “she” or “he”, or any
of the words I write. Not a hint,
not sign of you being “you”,
in each line “you” appears, it will not be you.
And I have found a new definition
of “she” or “he”, not even
the shadows of my words
would tell you that it’s “you”.

And in that day that it’ll come,
I’ll look back at this piece
of prayer, that my “you”,
will not be *you
a quick one // still finding it hard to really write so this may not be the best but at least it's something right?
The truth is,
my mind sweats more than it bleeds
Every puncture is filled,
salty tears water the debts of tomorrow’s seeds
The sun goes down,
but I’m never sad about something I seek
I work at what I am,
the things I believe are never easy or weak
To see things as God does,
a prophet studies leaves until the fall
What can we know,
it is in the silence between us that hears the call
I know I was,
but it wasn’t anything I could explain over drinks
You wanted to laugh,
so it never was a question of what each of us thinks
The lie is,
that I can forget everything I want just for you
Until you ask,
I will just assume that what I just said is true
But I know,
it can be as complicated as I want to make it
And you know,
that the reason I do that is because I can’t fake it
Stand up to me,
I need to know that no love can be about itself
All I do now,
is think about how bad I want your picture on my shelf
When I talk,
the things that happen seem to be unaffected by me
But when you suffer,
I remember that it was probably because I was too free
Mine angel always telleth me
(Brandon I don't belong to this place called earth)
Thou art right amour',
Thou art an angel!!!
And Angels aren't meant for a human race
Angels art meant for one another.....
And me and thee....
Don't belongeth here.....
We cameth here to find eachother again...
And that is all that matter's....
Is that I looked for so long,
And finally again
I hadst found thee amour'....
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