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 Dec 2018
Sabelo Gasa
Everywhere I go you're there
You're my happiness creature
The horrible voices doesn't appear
You make my depressions disappear

My nights are so bright
Even though we're far apart.
Can you make my heart shine like you
You hate darkness in you.

Whenever is dark you light up bright
You make my problems light.
You were there before me
I consider you like my theme.

I'm talking to the moon
I miss it during the noon.
I only see you when my eyes are closed
We're miles apart, I'm so interested.

You taght me the sweet smiles
You wipe my wet eyes.
You love me unconditional
You don't take things personal.

Can you give me your peaceful soul?
The love you gave is so beautiful
Mom you're like a full moon to me
I always mess up you still believe in me.
*dedicated to my late mom**
 Sep 2016
Ahmad Cox
There is pain
The world
Can be messy
It can seem
Like the world
Has gone crazy
Its easy to focus on
All the things
That are going
Living pessimistically
Instead of looking
Seeing all
The beauty
That is all
Around us
We live in
A beautiful world
Even as far
As things have gotten
We still live
In a beautiful place
Even as crazy as thing
Might seem
There are still people
Who are living
And showing people
What love really means
There are still people
Helping people heal
Showing people kindness
Showing people
How to love
One heart
At a time
There is still
We are never
Too far away
To receive it
We just have to
Start looking
And finding the beauty
Instead of always
Seeing the negative
Living pessimistically
And start seeing
In a different way
 Dec 2014
Sabelo Gasa
I'm sitting here alone
On the edge of the huge stone
Can't believe you're already gone
Nothing better without your tone
I miss everything about you
I wish I could hold your hand once again
I didn't meant to hurt you
Hurting you has never been my duty
You were everything I had
We enjoyed every peace of moment we had together

Our hearts were connected
You were the only girl who
Had a Love I needed
I felt my true self around you
Found Myself doing crazy stuff
You were like"oh my mizzy" and gives me a baby kiss
That the moment I held your hands
Hug you tight and, and lifts you up
It's felt awesome ,you somehow liked it.
People around us were all against us
They didn't recognized our future as bright
But i always saw brightest light
For our precious future
We had too many dreams
We wanted to fulfill
It all shaded away in a matter of seconds

I sometimes refer Love as a tree
A tree which grow in a very sensetive place
"A heart"
When it grows larger it's roots are being
Circulated all over the place
When someone removes it
It's roots left behind
Its than intend to live in your heart forever
Thats how painful love can be

We drafted a novel
Its failed throgh the power of evil
We needed a fuel
Happiness was our aim
It all down the drain
It no longer on our vain
I wanted it to remain
Forever on our empty hearts
I don't know why I'm doing this
My feelings led me to this
I was making mistakes
You never let it got to your
You were pretending like
Nothing happened
You never held grudges for me
Our Love was like ever
Floating river
Made of silver
Its felt great, ever
I wanted it to lasts forever

No other One could give me the genuine love like yours
You remain the best ex girlfriend
I can write bunch of pages
There plenty of images
Running through my mind  
The sweet memories we had
How could I ever flash them
On my mind
This is somehow an ever floating Love
I wish you all the best on
Your life journey
You'll always be good to me.
this is what I wrote for my ex gf I can't get over her
 Aug 2014
jeremy wyatt
We drifted through the grey stones,
Looking left.
Looking right.
Always looking wrong.
43 women with your name lie here,
amongst the trim green grass and dried, bunched flowers.
43 women who share a name.....
Do you all begin to blur in memories,
as time blurs days of childhood ?
Or are you still sharp in someones mind, as you are sharp in the picture in my hand.
All those women who shared your name,
and we could find only two.
And neither of them was you.
Still looking for his Mothers resting place.
 Jun 2014
Seán Mac Falls
Stillness as omen—
Dread and drear before the call,
  .  .  .  Raw crow on a wire.
 Jun 2014
Seán Mac Falls
The first ones they killed were the poets.
They crowned themselves, the sterile
And sexless acorns who fell from the felled
And split the air, writing with bark,
Would have us not desire experience
But describing trees.  To the naked kings
The word is a wonder, a tool to be used
Like any other.  With a forge, they called
An altar, they pitted heaven and made miners
Of the Gods.  In high places they read
Their grounded works, sogged with rain
Water from a red wheelbarrow, they list
And bludgeon us with their hammered similes,
Scribe their poems, they are the painters of one
Colour and high priests of alchemy, turning
Salon into echelon.  When the falcon stoops
They name him hawk.  Standing ****, flat-footed,
In bumpy skin, their honks go unanswered,
For they are no kin to the swan that glides
And sometimes they remember that,

The first ones they killed were the poets,
When the sky is etherized, prose made
Verse and their subjects yawn the great
Slaving maw.  Steeped in stale erudition,
They man-scaped the garden, pulled out
The weeds and by their words, they decreed
That only grass should grow, in strident
Chorus they are ringing in the sheaves.
But their poems are only like poems.
The naked kings are clothed in word only.

In the thirsty kingdom, water spills
Stagnant from the stein and the droplets
Echo, "there's no there  .  .  . there."
Incestuously they christened
Each other, one hundred years of virgins
Making love with a dead word
They know not of— Poet!  Asters
Among the daisies, yet on the fields
Of praise, they shall deflower
Themselves and though they strut
And prance as stallions and mares,
You will know them by their brays.
 Jun 2014
Seán Mac Falls
So many words between us—
The caustic breech of abatement, ruin
Runs atonal, in recitals of indifference,
How even the ****** birds now sound
Discordant and rain crushes as it falls,

The pinprick stars are merely eyes
Undraped to the worn soul's veil
And gorgon time roils setting our feet
In the crust of wishes and delusions

The bullet riddled skies in absence
Of colour are but particulates of lime
To the moonless night.  Words have no
Eyes, they can only finger.

O the sorrows of the untouched—
The cruelty of the sightless and bent blind,
Drab vermillion stars felled like forced tears.
 Jun 2014
Seán Mac Falls
One true love has come swiftly,

Before cold autumn, now, gone.

Deep in the knows of my ******

Heart, even after winter, new love

Grows!  No need for gifts of flower.
 Jun 2014
Seán Mac Falls
I do not envy the man about town,
The shackle suit and morning groom,
The campaign of papers and style,
Whose work a day is but a futile way
And each choice is ruin to the heart.

The pill shaped tables of the board rooms,
Where ink is blood and flesh is facsimile,
Caged in by the cubicle, lets in no breeze,
Only the still air of stifle, encased.
What dreams may die in this dullness  
Of days?
          There is a ringing that will not  
Cease.  There are stalls by the staples, there is  
No peace.  And time is warden either side  
Of the glass doors and with mercenary feet  
And closed eyes he makes his stand, he makes
His choice, he sets his gait, chimes in lock step,  
His voice is hoarse, and all his salary days  
Are trojan.  
        No, I do not relish the dog  
Eat dog, nor the barking toes that step so low,  
Even lower than the hangman's boom.  For like  
A slug crossing a busy street he does not fear  
The tread.  He does not know these sounds are clink.  
His thoughts are trapped in folders read, and with  
Mobile cells his ears are pinned and grating-micro-
Waves well cancer to his brain.
 Jun 2014
Seán Mac Falls
Mirror, tears in eye,
Her picture by bed,
No light in night sky,
Even moon is silent.
 Jun 2014
Seán Mac Falls
The sea gulls— who fly in wanton
To the horizon, are a spirits
Calling, are sea songs falling
To my mind they falter— as I
Have known such cozen to the sun
That falls each day nor do I see
It rising.  My world is weighted,
Under, pass the lining of the quick,
By the mounted cloud which hangs silver
Over the plated night. The owl,
Whose eyes of Janus tails, when wanes
The lids, tied to crescent holey
Whelm of malevolent moon,

Praise over me, with wooly wings,
Is silent as shadow.  I may strut or run
But they do come as the shadows will
With cahooting sun, and the blotting
Bald faced moon, chiaroscuro—
The days feign and heaven pales under
The wake of the luna sea.

       In darkest daylight
I shamble toward the flat horizon
Where the seabirds fly, till their ends,
I take two-faced my faulty comfort
As I see them, falter, falling, yet never
Do they touch the gloaming ground.
 Jun 2014
Seán Mac Falls
I am alone with you.
A fire burns in the distance
It lights our faces
As before in the empty cinema,
Where we arrived, at some beginning
To watch a foreign film. Our eyes,
In new utterance, murmuring subtitles,  
What words could never speak
The tips of seats, rows of air
And the moony screen,
A tableau of feathers and cloud
Two of us, alone, as one
Rapt in the spread of wings.

Later, alone we dine in the Café  
Campagne. Our conversation  
Deafens a burgeoning crowd
Coffee was nectar, our words  
Were whispering petals.
Dearest Blodeuwedd, I saw the sweetest  
Sorrow on your face, the green ocean
In your eyes, I was cleansed  
By your tears.  I have always
Known you.

Across the border on the far island,
You stepped into the waters with me
And when you disrobed you lit the stars
And the stars and my eyes kissed your skin
Your slender legs, columns that taught  
The Greeks in Helens age, touched the water  
And the sky. I saw the milky way that night.

Síneánn, I am your Pablo
We are two white birds sailing
Over the foam of the sea.
Solvent to my stone you are the hinge  
To my casement world.  Rain petal
Voice, lithe, alabaster woman,
I am lost in your Sargasso eyes  
I hold your skin, my Selkie
Sweet Niamh, I have lived  
One hundred years this week.

It is warm in the distance
In the country of the sun
We end at the house in Umbria
In the autumn, there is no word
Siberia, my light Rosaleen.
Now is harvest time.  
At the great table we feast  
With family and friends  
And I am not alone with you.
 Jun 2014
Seán Mac Falls
Raven haired woman—
Bathes in lake with sinking moon,
Black swan drowning light.
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