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 Apr 2018
Yitkbel
There's no gin and tonic
There's no whiskey sour and lime
There's only wind and snow
And the fear of
Not being forgotten
But having never existed at all

And
Like the wind and snow
Did you know we melted
Or were you aware
I was never here
At
All
 Apr 2018
SoVi
Drifting across currents
From oceans to oceans
Remnants of war.

Drunk on Confession
High on Calamity
Make yourself immortal.

Poison the clouds, poison the water
Watch people collapsing
From metal dragons in the sky.

Flushed from Blazes
Deaf from Explosions
You’re the cause of war.

Low on empathy
Empty on repentance
Deception built on misconception.

In a world full of peace they’ll come and hunt you
But during catastrophe, you’ll be our hero.
You're a man of war.



© Sofia Villagrana 2018
 Apr 2018
Heather McCorkle
Under the same old corn blue moon
There in the canvas plays a tune
We dance by the firelight, paint our faces
But does that make us lower than all races?

We all have dreams
Far and small
We all plant seeds
Though you Englishers do it wrong
And we all triumph
And we all bleed
Isn't it true, though?
That we all dream

And we'll play a single note
When the rooster crows
Try to imagine a Native American saying this poem this in the 1600's, when the immigrants from England invaded their land and were sought to hate the natives. The Indian is dreaming of the day when we'll all sing the same note. When the rooster crows, morning arrives, and we'll wake up to equality.
 Apr 2018
Stephen S
This old house, this grey broken place,
Frozen in time as an eternal disgrace.
Children live hollowed, a family displaced,
A past without meaning, a future erased.

Pale blue walls and long fading boards,
Shredded white curtains and fire ant hoards,
Such are the stains of hate and discord
And the glory of what here once was? Now ignored.

Beyond rusty metal and chipping off paint,
You'll find a soft bed with some tiny restraints,
Out in the shadows, a little girl cries faint,
A childhood of sorrows. Not peaceful, not quaint.

It's so hard to see from the rotting dead wood,
In the place where warmth and passion once stood.
There's some photos to save but I don't know if I should.
And a story to tell but I'm not sure that I could.

Up those broken stairs are two little boys beds,
Where they used to lay down their adventurous heads.
But now there's no laughter, no fuzzy warm spread,
Just suffering and fear and loathing instead.

And so I wallow in memories painfully sore,
completely devoid of strength left to explore.
So I bid farewell to the dark place once more,
Pack up my anguish and head out the door.
 Apr 2018
Mary-Eliz
there are some
who seem not to  
"get it"

they don't like the way
that you
said it

some who only want
plain ol'
talk

anything else
they tend to mock

they want no
one to poetically speak
no color
no sparkle
or mystique

they are the poetry  
bashers and crashers

they **** all the magic out
I think it's too bad
they don't understand
I think that it truly is sad
Their loss. :-)
 Apr 2018
Cynthia Lewis
It's night time.
The stars are shining and my soul is awake.
I leave my study and go outside.
I look up to the sky and have this feeling....
Something's watching me.
Who or what and why i ask myself.
But i already know what you are.
I see a bright light....it follows me.
As i stand in shock,i feel a power enter me....a power I've never felt before. It's like my organs are being crushed yet it doesn't hurt.
I see a celestial being....i feel safe.
What do you want? I ask....
You already know.....it replies.
The truth is i dont know....i dont know what it wants.....as i stare in utter disbelief i feel a warmth inside me.
It speaks to me.
I want you to believe in yourself,like you believe in us.
I feel saddened by the answer and before i can return a comment....it disappears completely.
But now......
I believe in my friends when others don't.
I have faith in my own beliefs when others follow their own.
But more importantly i believe in me.
 Apr 2018
river
I saw a face today
Thank God I knew his name
All I can remember really is that there was nothing deep inside
nothing seemed to be the only thing that remained the same

We talked of times since we met
And how it felt for him to watch me be
As the world did nothing but let us lie
No angel ever came
No angel ever saved me

It was just a face I knew
Then he left and I let my mind run free
I walked blinded through a bunch of faces that I’ve seen
There were voices telling me
Keep walking you forgotten friend
Then for days I didn’t say a word
I just met eyes with faces that now seem unknown
Faces I don’t think I’ll ever know
 Apr 2018
astronaut
My father never laid his hand on me....
Not with a slap on the face, and not with a pat on the back.

My father doesn’t yell at me. In fact, the only time in which I get to hear his voice is when we have small talk every couple of days.

My father never broke my heart. I do not think he is aware that we are anatomally wired to have hearts.

I saw my father’s blood on the bathroom tile after him coughing in there for two hours straight. I pretended I saw nothing. I wonder if he too pretends he doesn’t see me bleeding myself to sleep every night.
 Apr 2018
r
I was walking
and the ocean
was above my knees

I didn't feel the cold
or mist hanging silent
above, but I knew
the darkness, old friend,
longer than I will admit

I knew the waves
in ways I know
I could never explain

You found me there
and called out for me
to come out of that grave
I was sinking in, I don't know
how deep I would have gone
had you not known my name

I should drop to my knees
and kiss the salt from your feet
thanking you with the sea on
my lips and leak salt of my own
offering gratitude for calling

Thank you through the mist
and waves, thank you for
my heart beating, not feeling
the cold, for my lips that never
tasted the lightless far below

Thank you for following
my footprints when I was lost,
drowning in a sea of sorrow.
 Mar 2018
Akash mazumdar
And she wasn't seeking any praise affirmatively,
But what her body was on ice block ceasing; craving for insanity,
Insanity of "love" one of the unique curse ,
She had the thirst,
Of Station to the location for a pair of eyes,
Admiring inmost from blood to where the insecurities lies,
Facing towards the absolute sky,
Repeating the uttermost fantasies of her life,
Smiling and setting peace beyond a mile ,
Beautiful than thousands of successful rhymes,
What she wants I know she barely knows but she lies ,
I wish she could have a look through my eyes.

©akashmazumdar
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