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You were under my skin,
so i tried cutting You out;
now all i'm left with are
hand-me-down bandages
and something for the pain.
.
..
...
When the inflated crunching sky turns into the black hole, one by one the expected stars slowly falling on the horizon, sudden deep dark clouds cover the silky face of moon, or the earth takes the full moon.

Long, long shadows darken the meadows, southern wind can’t open your closed window at all, standing along on the curve of a road, a sigh to fly in the wind, roaming heart finding a home.

See the mystic form of the known objects, distant standing old banyan tree suppose to feel a lonely friend of mine, a friend of rootless time, when silly, bogus thoughts engulfed me, want to break up but change does not cry out.

Melancholy beauty in the dark, floating with the imagine gulls in the sky, draw the red sun on the canvas of dark sky within the wings of dream, again see you are playing with the seven colors across my unfinished sky.
.
..
...
@Musfiq us shaleheen
Two years ago,
I never knew you existed, a greek hero waiting for history.
I didn't know there's a someone like you
walking on the pavements of this complicated world.

One and a half year ago,
we were asked to attend a meeting.
As I familiarize with the new set of faces,
I set my eyes on you, for the very first time, a greek hero attentively listening to the speakers during that time,
"he's cute and cool," I said to myself,
but I insisted, "no, just stop it, concentrate and listen"

One year ago,
I saw you in your casual yet cool attire,
The door shut when you passed through the glass door,
but you immediately held and opened it when you saw me left behind the other side
At that moment, you became my hero,
my hero who, I knew, didn't hear my "thank you."
I felt guilty, and I can't forget you anymore.

Within that one year,
my boss keeps on insisting that she likes you for me,
I said "no, I am out of his league."
It is true, I will never be a Penelope of a greek hero like you.
I haven't told anyone about my feelings for you
and I let those emotions die.
I tried to stop thinking about you,
and I succeeded without breaking down and cry.
And there I was, no more smiles, no more blushes,
each time I bumped into you along those aisles.

Until one day,
You talked to me - work-related.
My best friend and colleagues-slash-friends-slash-siblings joked you to me as we discuss official matters,
and the rest was history.

For a few months now,
my puppy feelings for you came back,
We now greet each other, we now talk to each other,
We are colleagues, there's no more to that,
I keep on telling my self,
Because I'm a nobody, you are a greek hero and I will never be your Penelope.
I see myself as dead.
When I scroll through all the pictures,
I see myself as though I've passed on -
A eulogy for every smiling image,
A remembrance for missing moments.
When I see myself, I am frozen in a sweet story
And it's as though it is lost forever
And I mourn each passing memory, maybe
Because those moments are surely gone, or
I am simply not a positive person, still
I know I must
Let go of happy memories and
Appreciate present glories...
Though,
I feel that I lose myself throughout time
As I create new entities
That dance most well with given moments, then
Let them dance away,
For they are only suited for one another -
A version of myself and a single moment unmatched,
Not meant for anywhere else or any other time.

It is as though
I am looking at photographs from these past dances
And seeing a life that is no longer
And it's a part of my own.
It's just another day in News Speak Nation

Our country tis' of thee
sweet land of the liberty
of thee I sing


It's a News Speak Nation while CNN drones on
they just want you to sing along.

Now the people wonder where we went wrong.

Land where my fathers died
land of the Pilgrims pride


It feels like one big dream
why don't you sing with me?

From ev'ry mountainside
Let freedom ring


While the news keeps blasting on
how we don't get along
the wars keep marching on
It's a News Speak Nation
spreading fear, n' damnation
when every one of us can say
our ancestors made their way
through stormy sea's
to kiss the ground, and pray.
Don't believe what the politicians say
they just want to have their way.
Buying votes as they crack their jokes
playing games with our votes.

Our fathers' God to Thee,
Author of liberty,
To Thee we sing.


While the gap of the rich and poor
widens deep
the middle class can't compete.
This poem is copyrighted and stored in author base. All material subject to Copyright Infringement laws
Section 512(c)(3) of the U.S. Copyright
Act, 17 U.S.C. S512(c)(3), Krisselle S. Cosgrove July 26th, 2015
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