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 Jun 2019
Sarah Adams
It's just skin
Beautiful flesh
Our comforting cellular blanket
And yet it's color
And it's origin
And what skin you lay next to is somehow a controversial subject...
The validity of a vital *****
becomes a debate
In respect to a background
fueled by hate
To continue a legacy of violent, turbulent, shallow judgement;
If you used those stones cast at others
To build a tower instead
You could get a new view
and see the world
as a shared habitat
and to stop waging violence with words.

the flesh of the fruit
is a precious barrier
Holding all things important within
I protest this skin
Deserves to live
In peace
 Jun 2019
Graff1980
Today I’m struggling
to find
a potent
portent
of the human
condition
to place in
my poetic
compositions.
 Jun 2019
Eric
Some days im as small as a frog apon a log , others I feel like a hog , even comes to eating hot dogs . Some weeks my head's filled with a ton of bees . And other weeks I want to be as old as a tree . A month goes by and I'm being swat at like a fly , I duck and Dodge cause I just ain't that kinda guy .  But even when I'm black and grey , I think of myself as a raccoon eating apple pie , when it's apple pie trash day . You know what I'm saying ? the babboon part comes later, right after I sun bath like a alligator. weird right? as weird as a platypus's mirror .or even how dogs cry tears. they feel , they hear , they can learn somehow to cope with fear. as like wolf chasing deer. even they know their never always prepared. the more I swim through life , I realized, I am one with all , there isn't cutting ties . I'm the same human being trying to get by , just like all of life . built to survive , we just need the drive .
 Jun 2019
Sally A Bayan
>>>>                                    

                                       x
                                      x x
                                    x x x
                                 x x x x x                        
                      ::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
   ­        ::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
::::::::­::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::;::::::::::::::::::::­:::::
Never can it move::::like thunder or lightning
it goes slow, but sure:::::treading its own path
brave, strong and patient:::in facing its ordeals
they don't want to sting:::unless when needed
they want to be left alone::::but, alert:::::::ready
to protect and defend itself:::::with less action
when trapped or driven up a dead end:::::it is
more composed::::::it knows when to explode
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::­::::::::::::::::::::::
::::a scorpion can quickly paralyze its victim:::
::::::::::::::::::::with its own venom:::::::::::::::::::::::::
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::­:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
:::::::::::::::::­::::::::::::::::it is said,::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
human beings have innate venoms or weapons
i don't know if i have one:::or what it could do
i only know, i can hardly harm anyone::::::::but
like any other creature:::::::i will defend myself
:::::::::::when my safety is compromised::::::::::
    :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::­::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
      :::::::::::::::::::: i am a scorpio ::::::::::::::::::::
          ::::::::::::::::what about you?:::::::::::::
               what could be your venom?
                 ::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
                    ­ :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
                        :::­::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
                                x x x x x
                                    x x x
                                     x x
                                       x
                        



  Sally


© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
October 23, 2017
(just an old poem, guys...
just scribbling, while at the backyard, watching crawlers fighting)
 Jun 2019
Graff1980
For the longest time
I could not find
compassion in
my frenzied mind
for any of my past selves.

Now, as I recall
the gloom
of a sun bare room,
where the
curtain
swept
back and forth
like a broken broom
brushing up
more dust
for all of us
to inhale,

the thin spindles
of spider webs
above my head
whilst I lie in bed
contemplating
how bad
I wished that I was dead,

the late night runs
as If I thought
I could escape from
the pain that
would always come,

the hours of lifting weights
because of my lack of self-love,

of reading for hours straight
to dull and distract myself
from that longing ache
that made me break
when I would wake
in tears,

all those years
passed and I have forgotten
the pain that my isolation brought on.

I was so cruel
and unforgiving,
angry and unrelenting
in my self-loathing
and former forms
of self-flagellation.

Time plus distance
has lessen the intenseness
of those moments,
and I have found more temperance
in my temperament,
allowing myself enough room
to finally forgive him,
the person who I have not been
for over ten
to twenty years.
 Jun 2019
Prerna Singh
Your silence
Poisons
My ears
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