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 Jul 2016
Bianca Reyes
If I could hold onto anything in this life
It would be to the end of each of your sentences
Or the corner of your smile
Those are the two things I never want to end
Shared on Hello Poetry on July 4th, 2016
Copyright © 2016 Bianca Reyes
All rights reserved
Blah blah blah
Enjoy
 Jun 2016
Jeffrey Robin
.


Taking to the streets


Looking just to see you

Looking for me


)(

reality is strength

••


••

Beauty is the song

Drifts from eye to eye

We just want to know each other

Before we die


)(


Passion in the soul

The gentle human being

( & we are fully human once again )

••

On the bridge at dawn


Seeing and being seen

in the light of all

The Lord is known



.
 Jun 2016
Mateuš Conrad
it's strange to live in post-colonial societies,
northern england excluded:
aye, southern fairies and northern
monkeys! it's just strange to try
erasing the past, what's there to make up?
charisma or charcoal? never mind,
private joke... it's strange living in a
post-colonial society, the lost franchise
of wife, husband and brats falling apart,
it's so strange to live in a post-colonial society,
faking it with celebrities winning
money for charities on quiz shows televised,
the shame, it would seem as a tool
to educate others, the necessary plots
to educate people but nonetheless revise their
vocabulary to an "appropriate" use,
such method of dittoing is fine, since
you're not bothered to cite a bibliographical
reference - a someone said.
living in a post-colonial society is near-piquant
surreal... you don't know what to do...
i wish i knew... i wish it was strict and
affectionate, but sooner or later
the Zeitgeist of Darwinism will take over
and limit what's to be expressed;
why did i pick poetry as a medium of expression?
why? it's so pathetic, so ****** pathetic
that we have a poetic title of a book,
and equal plumber or electrician drudge writing
out the prose, he said, she said, whatever...
i guess people write prose like any
manual labourer does working on a construction
site, where the only Englishman is a bricklayer
or a scaffold-er, all other professions backed up
by Europe... Romanian labourers,
the graffiti in toilets... the graffiti in toilets,
once it was the Poles to blame, then
the Bulgarians and the Romanians...
strange to learn culture and contraband,
to learn it from post-colonial societies,
how they begrudge their past in order
to look pristine... oh sure they can sing...
they have the Irish jingles & jives in 'em,
but when they become conscious of it,
they want to spread it as far east as Iraq,
if they only looked in, rather than imagining
themselves as saviours... of course there are
differences, there always were,
but they haven't bothered to criticise themselves,
after such a colonial past they decided
that angels roamed the streets of London
looking for a quill... living in a post-colonial
society isn't exactly crumpets and jam...
three generations prior and you'd be singing
the national anthem with some form of
attachment - donning a top hat and a cane...
gentlemanly parading yourself on
a promenade leading up to Buckingham Palace
via St. James' Park... LOLS and high tea
at the 5 p.m. sunset worth a biscuit
dipped into Siberian tea served to pregnant
women in Siberia (i.e. with milk -
bawarka). **** on me, i never could have imagined
a former colonial nation, a former empire
to behave as it does... if i were an insider
i wouldn't have spotted the anomalies,
had i been a Jew i wouldn't either,
they still speak about us as if the Lithuanian-Crown
commonwealth never existed...
asking Palestinians are answered: give it 2000 years
of struggle to leverage authentic sympathy -
talking about humans like farmed chickens
is one way to go about it, the last resort,
but the only manageable precipitation of the world
into you, too many concerns to have,
the evidence leading up to a cocoon action,
from the earth's demanding representation of man
and worms - to dreamed up man and butterflies
that sing the Koran.
 Jun 2016
Kara Jean
An eccentric free spirit
A major let down, no one understands the blunt sounds
A neighborhood built up by the ****** society, half naked puffed out chests
I'd rather pick my lilacs and dance to Joan Jett then deal with their meetings
I will celebrate my homemade life with a button stating,
"Save the wine who cares about the rest"
Freedom from the voices that screech
Yes I know you're  not quite sure what I'm saying
 Mar 2016
PaperclipPoems
That maybe I was created to live forever alone.
 Jan 2016
Bianca Reyes
Arriving in a lonely dark room
In which my misery loom
Unpacking a suitcase of doubt
No windows nor any way out
I take off the coat that protects me
It was made of your laughter and glee
Now I settle atop of this bed
Supported by things that I dread
I took the path that lead me here
For love and joy was all that I fear
I will forever live in a room full of sad
When I ran away from the good that I had
Shared on Hello Poetry on January 28, 2016.
Copywrite under Bianca Reyes.
All rights reserved

Blah blah blah
Hope you enjoy
 Jan 2016
am i ee
once had a boyfriend

well was he technically that?

me thinks not

me thinks he just wanted to *** into
ma pants

and a few other assorted boys used this
same line

how they would complain
entangled in the car
hot breath heaving
long deep kisses
bodies writhing
on summer nights
and cold winter ones too

always squirming away
from curiously demanding
hands

after the zipper
between the thighs

warm delicious sensations...

But WAIT....

what will they say tomorrow?

so.... squirming away
never giving in
to the passion arising
high as the sky

frustrated...
these boys
would complain
like a little boy
not getting their new toy

YOU are giving me
BLUE *****

really?  is that really
a condition?
or are you just pulling my
proverbial leg?

and REALLY
it is MY fault?

me thinks not...

in any event
one day it came
to say

well... if you aren't
acquainted with your
right hand
perhaps now is the
time

and if you want a little
variety
use your left

and if you are feeling particularly
frisky
try them both
for the *******!

it worked perfectly for ME
for them
well
i didn't wait
around too
long to
SEE....
 Jan 2016
Black Jewelz
There lives a woman who
Seems mystical, even mythical
--It is true--
Because she is biblical;
Rarer than a precious jewel.

She is virtuous
She is loyal
She is courteous...

She is royal.

She shines brilliantly, like a star cluster trapped inside a room.
She glistens like jubilant sun rays dancing atop the ocean.
The wind of her voice sets inspiration in motion,
Like a sonic boom.

She is powerful.

She is virtuous,
Who is worthy? Just
Wonder & coil
In a corner & toil
As you ponder this.
And honor this
Acknowledgment,

Because she is royal.

Don't dare compare her to the likes of
Nefertiti or Isis.
They are not so estimable,
You couldn't buy her even with a million zeros before the decimal,
Because...

She is priceless.

So the King adorned her,
Because the King adores her.

She is beautiful, so they say,
But such a meager word could not suffice,
Because her true charm emanates like waves
In the ardent expression of her practice of life.
And from her mind and her soul.
Her precious heart--more precious than gold--
Looks like a kaleidoscope of rare gems,
Darting dazzling colors; the spectrum in whole.

Diamonds die in comparison,
Hand her a diadem...

She is special
She is jovial
She is gentle

She is royal.

She is not haughty,
Nor does she flaunt like worldly wenches do.
She tells girls who've been told they're peasants they can be a princess too.
She is not naughty,
Nor does she taunt like wanton vixens do...

Because she is godly.

Yes, indeed there lives a woman who
Seems mystical, even mythical
--But it is true--

She is virtuous,

She is royal...

She is you.
Written for a woman I adore. Not my wife or girlfriend or anything like that. Just someone I knew.
 Jan 2016
Amanda Francis
I waited for you, again.
I told myself that you’re not coming, that you didn’t mean anything you said.
I was right, yet, here I am waiting for you.
I tell myself you're like a cat, that I can love you ferociously with all my heart.
But, I keep forgetting to listen when I say I can only love you from a far…
 Jan 2016
Musfiq us shaleheen
~~
Nothing is Silent!
Even if there is a Silence
at least saying, I'm alone
Or exposing the beauty,
as you say in a romantic poem
~~
*************
*******
**
 Jan 2016
Amanda Francis
Back and Fourth I swing, my better sides hiding in the trenches of my mind.
My body is no mans land, caught between myself and I.
Violent vocabulary and assaulting alliteration load the barrels of my tongue.
This is self-protection, I'm burdened with armors against affection.
I spew sarcasm with venom, cold-blooded and serpentine.

You're the antidote and if I could I'd make you mine.
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