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 Mar 2018
martin
If you waken me from sleep
Gently call my name
I've been away and I have changed
Things are not the same

If you waken me from sleep
Don't pull my toe like before
I've been to war and seen too much
I can't be playful any more

If you waken me from sleep
Don't raise your voice or pull the sheet
Remember I go back at night
Back where I can't hide

She went to waken him from sleep
She didn't call his name
She pulled his toe like before
She thought things were the same
ptsd vietnam
 Mar 2018
Scarlet McCall
As the winds grow stronger and the snow falls heavy,
as the oceans rise and pour over the levee,
as the sweltering heat makes us sleep in the day
and work in the night, I’ll take your hand and say:
Dance with me in the darkness, until the futile dawn;
sing while I play guitar, we don’t have long.
Read your poems to me while we have a little time;
we have no future, but we still have rhyme.
Let’s drink a toast, or two, to what might have been,
and what once was, before our time turned grim
Let’s plunder the pharmacy, or eat the magic mushroom;
don’t go into the night easy, but don’t rage at the moon.
Let’s savor all the moments, as our destiny arrives.
Let’s not waste another minute of our precious time alive.
Mudslides in California, another snowstorm in New York.
 Mar 2018
Nayana Nair
Your hands were tired
of holding me together,
holding me to ground,
keeping me safe from myself
and my fate.
And when you were no longer there
I could go anywhere in the world,
live different lives,
and see the world anew.
Wait for the death
of my sorrow.
Or **** myself with what I am.
All this I have found
at the cost of
losing earth, me, and you,
to name a few.
Are you tired of killing us
Here I stand **** me
Are you tired of maltreating me
Here I stand devour me

How will you reap my flesh
How will you cook my bones
How will you drink my blood
How will you stop my tears

Here I stand presenting the cup of agony
The fountain of happiness flows as I revolt
Use my gift and fetch the drink for thyself
How sweet is the water I give

How bitter is my flesh to you ?
Did you eat my soul ?
Oh no! my soul is a brook of undying peace
Wallowing as daffodils adorned with loving gem

Exchanging hands of friendship beyond earthly rivals
Beyond your evilness and injustice
Your heart is oppressed by our thoughts
Wouldn't you drink our blood again

Wouldn't you **** us again?
Are you tired of your corrupt thoughts?
I thought you prefer to live in the dark
What makes love resides in your heart

Written by
Martin Ijir
 Mar 2018
wordvango
Imagining when she used to fill it
Up with dandelions and greens
Set it the middle of the dining room table she bought
Same old thrift store she got
The flower covered vase from
And the old yellowed tablecloth
And it was always filled
With whatever wildflower or **** she could pick
And it signified in a way
Our love and dedication
How though poor we were so rich
And I appreciated then.
The tablecloth is put up
The vase sits empty.
The yard is filled with dandelions
And blooming clover
Lush greens growing wild.
Just like my heart.
 Mar 2018
Nayana Nair
There are footsteps
drawn in rainwater
that float on the floor
that was once firm and solid
but now cracks under my every step.
The rain and storm
must have brought him here.
The never improving
weather of his heart.
Did he find what he came for?
How long he must have stood here?
Was it still raining when he left?
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