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 Nov 2015
Isaac Peña
This one goes to the real poets.
To those who decide to carry the world on their own.
To those who carry hell in their head and a graveyard of lost love stories in their heart
To the brave ones who fight darkness with darkness.
Tho those who the only answer they seek from a god is if there's eternal life for their loved ones, because they know there's no space for them in that paradise.
To those who know that suffering is the most humane feeling there is.
To those who loved and hated the wrong person.
This goes to Lorca isolated, hiding in a closet in New York.
To Unamuno craving to believe in something impossible.
To Quiroga drinking the poison of his sorrow at a hospital.
To Becquer and Espino for dying so young.
To Neruda for cheating on himself so many times.
To Machados' lost spirit.
To Marquez and his melancholic ******.
To Poe's tormented soul and his raven.
To Shakespeare and his Juliet.
To Dante and his story of woe.
This goes for the only beings who can live with a hell inside of them, and still manage to write heavenly things for those in need to read.
This one's for us.
 Nov 2015
Alan W Jankowski
Two young brothers are left at home,
All by their lonesome selves,
The older one notices a new toy,
Sitting high up on a shelf.

He climbs up and brings on down,
What he believes is a toy gun,
He thinks about the games they’ll play,
Boy this sure will be fun.

He aims the ‘toy’ at his little brother,
And shoots him in the head,
But that gun was not a toy at all,
And soon the three-year-old is dead.

When a child dies,
All the stuffed animals cry,
Alone on a shelf,
They sit by themselves,
In a cold lonely room,
Like a final tomb.

Johnny’s tired of being bullied at school,
But every dog has its day,
Though all his classmates seem so mean,
Johnny will make sure they all pay.

The next day at school will be different,
From a knapsack he pulls out a gun,
Suddenly he starts shooting his classmates,
Shoots them in the back as they run.

Soon most of the class has been shot,
And their young bodies are lying there dead,
With one bullet left in the chamber,
Johnny puts the gun to his own head.

When a child dies,
All the angels cry,
The tears flowing down,
On the sad little town,
It’s a cold, cold rain,
But it won’t numb the pain.

For Jose this is the biggest day in his life,
It’s his gang initiation in the ‘hood,
He must seek out a rival gang member,
With a couple of shots he’ll be good.

Jose packs his piece and extra clips,
And his driver takes him to the spot,
He takes aim at his helpless victim,
And another is dead with just one shot.

But that one bullet it ricocheted,
You hear a young mother scream and cry,
As she realizes her young son is hit,
On a cold dark street he is left to die.

When a child dies,
The whole world cries,
All lives matter, big and small,
I ask you people, heed the call,
Please stop the hate, before it’s too late,
For the future of us all.

10-27-15.
Written for the upcoming book "World Healing, World Peace Poetry 2016" on Inner Child Press...
http://www.worldhealingworldpeacepoetry.com/
 Nov 2015
GaryFairy
our thoughts are the ribbons
wrapped around the words like a bow
like a present of misgiving
that only the giving could bestow
it's hard to live with the living
when we die with what we know
it's the wit of the unwitting
it's the only gift we show
 Oct 2015
CapsLock
We're just soaring on this earth.
Without course, a floating asteroid,
with no worth, it's our planet of birth.
Of meaning, all there is, is void.
Always wandering to some north,
pretending life of merit is not devoid.

I'm not writing full of depression,
it's just the same old realisation.
Don't wanna die, just a bit whatever,
waiting for a change in this monotony.
Tired of waking up, wish I'd sleep forever
or that something would entertain me.
*"The key to being happy isn't a search for meaning. It's to just keep yourself busy with unimportant nonsense, and eventually, you'll be dead."* -Mr Penautbutter.
 Oct 2015
Musfiq us shaleheen
~~
when the silence comes down
in the darkness
the space between you and me
is just a sigh

some of the awaking words
floating in the mind
where tunes comes from
the next door

words to have come out
slowly
poetry as the whispering of  
dry dropping leaves

come up in the
hopeless romantic flute
comes on the
tune of the lost love

a portrait of broken dreams,
black and white
where exists a defeated faded face
and your silhouette
~~
@Musfiq us shaleheen
.
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 Sep 2015
GaryFairy
take a look, you may notice
the stolen glow of the hopeless
a photo so out of focus
lower than a golden crocus

but beautiful just the same

going closer, you may notice
soul of a broken closeness
low notes of a solo opus
glowing like a floating lotus

and beautiful just the same

(a golden crocus is a beautiful, low growing flower, but it can be easily over-taken by weeds, and wither...a lotus is my favorite flower, which floats on water, and seems to glow, but would wither without water)
this is my dedication to all of those who are depressed,those who feel alone, to all of the outcasts, to anyone who feels beaten down by life...you are still important, so let your petals grow... because you are still a budding flower
I'm tired of hiding who I am
I'm tired of living by society's rules
Tired of you judgmental fools
Because I'm different and proud of the way I am
 Sep 2015
Elisa Maria Argiro
Way before people in human form,
we existed as air and light.

Lavender lights in the northern regions
called to each other, and we responded freely.

Sound sounded differently then, reaching
inside our airy souls, overarching temporal existence.

Dancing through infinite space, leaping beyond knowing,
we became pure unfettered feeling.

Come across the threshold of light, riding on your smile.
All that was then, is still our ancient home.
©Elisa Maria Argiro
 Sep 2015
Musfiq us shaleheen
...
..
Much before the door closed
Can be seen regularly when walking on the road
Though dark, see the mass of trash
But did not hear any noise ever

On the side of the sky touch wall
My constant movement
Though shadow yet trademark cynicism
I can go away even closed eyes

Closed eyes within the dark
Yet unbelievable, but brings a dream
A dream within the dark,
See a diamond crystal
Where only light and light dispersion
From each dimension

Suddenly, in dream
I am in front of the closed door,
See a footprint,
Known voice with tune,
Can hear the illusive song

Now neither there exists any tall wall
Nor any closed door in the mind
...
..
 Sep 2015
Akira
He told me my scars weren't beautiful
And I told him that no one could ever really admire a masterpiece
Without taking a few steps back
Your scars make you who you are and no matter what you are beautiful
 Sep 2015
Sumina Thapaliya
If I have to describe
the love
in one word,
I will use
your name
for that !!!
petals of the wind,
like lilies unfolding
in the water.
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