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 Apr 2016
m i a
these depressing thoughts are catching up to me,
and i feel as if though i can't breathe,
i'm tired of this war going on beneath,
my flesh, and inside my soul,
which is now the colour of coal,
i'm no longer whole.
pieces of me are attached to the people or things that have broken me,
you see,
i can't look at myself in the mirror and say,
"You can get through this kid, like you did yesterday."
Anymore,
for i just see a girl who's ready to give up,
but the funny thing is,
is that she doesn't give up,
she keeps breathing,
she keeps thinking,
she keeps listening to her heart beating,
because she knows,
that deep inside,
**a part of her is still alive.
i know it's hard, to keep living, to keep breathing, to do all of this. but at the end of the day, there's always a part of you that tells you to stay alive. listen to that part of you, and stay strong.
 Apr 2016
Ignatius Hosiana
It's not about the number of poems
I make but about touching
hearts of those in need of
an invisible hand and
about
improving
the quality
of my touch...
So I'd rather
have one piece touch 1000 souls
than a 1000 pieces that won't
send out even a single ripple
to the million limpid hearts...
I'm all about squeezing a smile
out of those hardened by grief
subsequently finding self relief
 Apr 2016
Gidgette
When the sun and the moon
Collide in the sky
When blood drops,
Are the only tears I cry
When snow flakes
Fall in the middle of June
When the sound of silence
Remains the only tune
When the fish sprout wings
And fly from the sea
When the only thing standing
Are petrified trees
When the sky loses its color
And is no longer blue
That, my sweet, is when
I'll stop loving you
 Apr 2016
Happynessa
She wondered what it would feel like
To escape the rigid boundaries of words
And speak in the fluid language of art

The chemical pull of the pen was exciting
But the blissful sensation of the brush
May give way to time losing its meaning

Her love of art came from her childhood
Story books when opened meant she
Could fall inside the wonderful illustrations

Years of life and years of passion spent inside
Black and white sketches and drawings
Magical incredible frightening and amazing

She feels the silence between poetry and art
She feels them expand and soften until it seems
Like a giant bubble that holds them both
 Apr 2016
Ignatius Hosiana
Do
not be afraid
of big dreams...
but
lack
of
courage
to
dream
big
 Feb 2016
K Balachandran
A white porcelain coffee cup
she gently raises up to her lips
with a satiated look on her face;
this gift, a much awaited moment
attained by satisfying her yen
not for choicest, gourmet food alone.

Those dark droopy eyes, suggest
a luxurious languor, she does cherish,
as long as the after tremors would last.

Slyly she looks at his swollen red lips
with a crafted guilt, it gives her yet
another high, sending ripples over
her *******, his eyes do a recce on this
then go up to her lips,finds his ardor
last hour had  made them crimson all over,
throwing his head backwards he smiles at her.

— The End —