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A tension that filled this Welsh air
A wait so long, 16 years if I'm exactly fair
My stomach stirring in the depth of below
The call from the bushes, then onto Hello
Cracking setlist, a comeback performance
No fighting on stage, sadly banterless
An oasis of calm
Just their mancunian charm
No strops to be thrown
No shouting or even king of their throne
An understanding of flying the dove
Peace,
unity,
brotherly love

OASIS

JJB
 Jul 3
irinia
slowly the mountains come out of the blue of morning, they regain their face
light bathes them in its milk
I hide in the tall grass like a child
this self expands into the clouds behind the trees
an engulfing joy dissolves words into vowels
everything that exists  is wonder, a forgotten state of matter
time confesses a circle
the circle conjures  an earth so wild
the forest stores its prayers inside moss
the sacred hidden in the most profane  flower
an work of art with unknown author, every atom is colourful
I offer my skin as playground for butterflies
they can feel she's not so different from the skin of the earth
some hours are born by the self of rain
I wonder if the wind feels me
like I feel you in blooming nails
I held your love
with the fingers of my heart
I tattooed the promise
to all my tomorrows
across my back to be carried for eternity
. . . where are you now ?

It takes forever for distant stars to burn my lips
There is no mercy found on the floorboards that walk across my kiss
. . . where are they now ?

Remember how the needles of time stitched the nights together ?
How easy does the fabric of love become unentwined
. . .  remember ?
 Jun 19
Kalliope
If I rewrite the narrative,
make you say things you’d never-
it hurts a little bit less.

If I picture you sending my screenshots,
laughing with your friends
about how I’m pathetic,
it hurts a little bit less.

If I melt the candy coating off your words
and read them as they are,
my chest doesn’t feel as hollow.
The pages rinse free of hope,
replaced with finality.

If I say it was just a game,
and now I have to log out-
close the window, shut it down,
you’ll never log back in.

My lungs can fill with air again,
My eyes remain dry.
This grief stops sitting on me,
I can stop wondering why.

You’ll always be
my favorite book I picked up-
but maybe you were one
I was never meant to read.
I wish I hadn’t stitched you into all of my fabric.
There’s nothing to do that keeps you off my mind.
You are everywhere and nowhere all at once-
like a ******* ghost seeping into all my rhymes.
 Jun 17
Cadmus
They asked me once,
“Why do you always take the hard path?”

I said,
“It’s not that I choose it
It’s just the only path I see.”

Not all of us are given options.

Some roads are rough
because that’s all there is.
Sometimes, life doesn’t offer a choice between easy and hard - it simply gives a road, and we walk it.
 Jun 1
Blue Sapphire
If I were to leave tomorrow,
would you ever remember me?
would you visit my grave -
Is that how you'd remember me?
Or would you turn me
into a poem of yours,
and keep me alive through you?
 May 24
Carlo C Gomez
Affixed to the Lee–Enfield,
this blade, this trigger point,
stricken by ambush,
enters the melee
along the false edge,
cuts to the core,
like sympathizers of
William of Orange.

There are no daggers
apart from war,
just an ocean of
death and defeat,
its water,
its ever rising water,
swallows us whole.
 May 24
Piyush
The sun rises over a lily's field,
Early morning always brings the peace.
"Want some coffee? Add some milk,"
He wants to write—needs paper and a strong will.

The beauty of the world he knows,
Her beauty he recognises.
Yet he hides the beauty,
And always defines the pain.

"The world is hell," he says,
And somehow, he's always right.
He sees the bills,
He sees the depressed minds.

Wants some money, but
He's just a poet of the night.
How much further will he write?
How much more should he sacrifice?

Slow rain falling from her eyes,
The poet is dead inside.
He needs some rest now—
He needs a goodbye.
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