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 Jul 2015 Carolin
ryn
Derelict
 Jul 2015 Carolin
ryn
I am but willing prey to the wiles of the full grown moon.
She guards the night sky...
While I patrol these grounds...
Grieving over the seconds that have gone too soon.

I am a vessel... all emptied and barren.
what once was full,
now echoes faint
the glories of yesteryears.
Afloat still, adrift upon the currents... aimless and sullen.

I am a ghost... haunting no one but my own.
Immortalised...
Anchored...
to a body of mist and haze...
Occupying this space where worthy wind had once blown...

I am a beggar offering nothing but my open palms.
Hope etched tight
into my knackered knuckles
and calloused digits.
Please... take them in yours...
soothe them...
grant me your touch, your coveted balm.
 Jul 2015 Carolin
Joel Frye
Reprieve
 Jul 2015 Carolin
Joel Frye
Cut yourself the slack
you would allow your best friend;
be kind to yourselves.
sticks and stones may break my bones,
the names i call myself will **** me.
.
...
.......
Then I never saw you
even didn't hear that song again
how everything got lost in uncertain
begins the rules of funeral  

Those morning dews,
how beautiful  the silver shines!
surely lost after a few hours
ah! the dreams grew and lost in daylight  

Moonlight falls on this large meadow
Certainly clears my distinct shadow
what a brightness in the face of horizon
get lost after the clouds covered

Hope grows love
where river moves towards the upstream
when loses
the time, untimely  

Love is a foolish pride
Find after lost,
as the day within the days,
daily

Lonely time as the pain of the poetry
In words, paper of poetry submerged
Find thy, say into the darkness
what a restless mind, drunk!
...
..
.
@Musfiq us shaleheen
Josiah Jack
never uttered a sound
when they dragged him away
from the scene.
when his poor body
was eventually found,
the treatment endured,
had been mean.

With no tongue in his head
they had left him for dead.

With a month
on his back,
he did indeed
contemplate.
Only sin
“he was black”
hence forth
this weary state.

They attacked in the night,
hooded and white.

All in all
he was
lucky
to be
breathing at all,
all because
he was plucky,
all because
he stood tall.

A ***** they said
should lower his head.

Were they hooded
for fear?
Were they hooded
in shame?
Most likely,
once covered,
they could hide
of their name.

If things were so right,
why hide out of sight?

Bravery isn't
a word for the ****,
Cowards,
this word comes to mind.
Bravery comes
when there's only one man,
not one
with ten more stood behind.

I will strike in a pack
with someone watching my back.

Their plan
was to ****,
this man
Josiah Jack.
Perhaps they
get a thrill
when someone
cannot fight back.

They get real loud
when they join with the crowd.

Josiah
knew well
that if he
raised a hand
his kin folk
would feel hell
from this
unruly band.

So he did not fight
but gave in to his plight.

They think
they were hidden
beneath that
white hood,
Josiah's hearing
is sound
and his
memory is good.

So when things are forgot,
he will take of his lot.

That's exactly
what happened,
as they lay
in their bed.
The flames hurled
with fury
the sky
filled with red.

This man barbequed them like fish on a rack
and no one put it down to Josiah Jack.
13th July 2015
© Copyright Christopher K Bayliss 2014
.
*your words formed in heaven
and then to leave
pained in hell
then to resist

on going, the way turned to bend
in the end, the end couldn't be seen
then continued to move,
that is to say celestial

words within too many words, make a wreath of the words,
maybe tell a fairytale,
simple words have lost in melody, tune
steadfast sight of the beautiful seen, mystic in the midst of the road

alone, then after alone, painted the portrait of thy
joy of life music,
weaving the words, craving a poetry
comes at a time, loss at untimely

maybe born in dreams
within too many words, a few perches into soul
to create forms, what an amazing ties!
ah, this poetry book has lost in poetry!
..
@Musfiq us shaleheen
 Jul 2015 Carolin
Peter Heerings
In general most wars are pointless
In general children get killed
In general  cities do vanish
In general the missiles hit
The general takes the decisions
But in general he does not smell
the smell of fire
In general he does not hear the people scream
In general  he only counts the hits and all the rest generally is seen as calculated side effects
He gives the orders
To push the ****
To fly the jet
To drop the bomb
It is precision but that's precisely the problem of a general war
 Jul 2015 Carolin
Peter Heerings
She never danced not in the open
But once she closed her dark blue eyes
She was the centre of the party
She heard the sounds of all the laughter
Glasses full or  being filled
She was the princess of the non existing empire
Of the wallflowers that blossom on an extraordinary day
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