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 May 2017
Noelle M Eithun
When he first touched me,
I thought I would unfold
Go weak. Tremble.
But instead, I didn't feel anything.
He put his mouth on my skin and I felt numb.
Distant. Distracted.
I tried to close my eyes and center myself
but I kept waiting for it to be over.

My first intimate moment and my body
turned to stone.

~~

You ruined me.
You ruined my ability to enjoy intimacy.
Maybe even love.

I have been waiting my whole life for a moment like this
but you forced me to recoil into my natural coping mechanism of shutting down
Pushing away

But this moment was right.
I wanted him to kiss me.
I wanted him to touch me
but you turned me against him.

You made me think I didn't want him
I didn't deserve him
That his touch was tainted
When it was perfectly fine.

To the ones who touched me before,
you touch me through hands that I know
Hands that I trust
Hands I could love

My body can't shake your touch from it's memory.
Your finger tips forever scar my goosebumps.

But I wont stop searching for peace.
Peace for my body
For my soul.

Peace despite of the ones who have touched me before.
 May 2017
Babu kandula
if at all God is a myth

Whom we reach for

Salvation and get freed

From our sins ?

Yes, it is you who can

Free from all your adversaries.

Don't be a spectator

But,

Be a good child
Be a good parent
Be a good neighbor
Be a good human

When heavens closes it's door

You only have you

For defense and also survival
 May 2017
nivek
having given themselves to loves service
again and again
often forgetting but given all the same

love accepts your meagre offering
and transforms it a hundredfold.
 Apr 2017
James Floss
Darling,

A breakthrough in WWD:

I realize
Battles lost
Can be restive—

And if used right,
Restorative

Depression isn't always
Destructive.

Here I hunker
In my bunker
Reflective.
 Apr 2017
nali
We were standing there just talking and laughing
Remembering the good ol’ days that actually weren’t that good
and I couldn’t help but notice the uncomfortable look on your face
So let me gently ask you: do we owe you something, sir?
Because since we arrived I feel this hate coming from you,
a passive-agressive staring that makes me feel guilty for just existing
in a public space
like it’s a drag for people like us to be out here and
not hiding in the shadows of our profane rooms
but despite what you may think I didn’t come to this place on vacation
this is where I belong even though most of the times I wish it wasn’t
and as you stare at us I feel the same thing that my friends and siblings felt
just two seconds before they were murdered.
I fear that these are the last scenes of my short film.
I fear the news my mother’s gonna hear if I dont go back home tonight.
I fear for my friends because they don’t even seem to realize
that the man sitting next to us
has got in his eyes a hate that im pretty sure he wasn’t born with,
but was taught by a society that only remembers love
when it comes to avoid talking about the mass shootings
against us that they support and
while they’re trying to shut us up when we ask for reparations
for the permanent damages they have caused us
But I aint got no time to talk about it so let me ask you one more time:
do we owe you something, sir?
As I was sitting here I thought a lot of times about
going away to avoid the worst but now
it’s my turn to shut my fear up and stand here
to say that I ain’t going nowhere.
Because I’m tired of leaving places
to feel a fake safeness ‘cause we all know the statistics too well
to ignore that home is not sweet when you just don’t fit
There’s no safe place to go because our hearts are trophies
and you've got this uncontrollably desire to feel it on your ***** hands
and we both know you’d do anything, anything to find out what it feels like
and you’ll believe that what you’ve done is something to feel proud of
and believe me,
they will arrest you for ****** but only because
they need to show people that killing is wrong but they don’t really
think killing people like us is that wrong, do you get it?
It’s the 21st century but i've heard of witch-hunt,
gay concentration camps and slave markets
within less than a week.
Not far from here the last screams of people I knew
were heard and their voices won’t stop echoing in my head
'cause nine times out of ten I know that just because
the bullet didn’t come for me this time I does not mean it won’t come
but you didn’t answer my question so let me answer it for you:
do we owe you something, sir? No.
You owe us.
You owe us and you better pray for afterlife to be a myth
because if it’s real we’ll be there to remind you that you owe us
You owe us so much that you could have a thousand lives
and yet it wouldn’t be enough to pay what you owe us
Because everytime you **** one of us you’re killing all of us
and it only makes your debt increase.
So when you see us lower you head and be grateful
we didn’t take your soul yet.
not sure if it's a poem but it is something so
 Apr 2017
Josie
Living on a shoestring, but
I'm enjoying my Spring Fling
 Apr 2017
DaSH the Hopeful
A poet's supposed to only post poetry
     If I try to do anything different under a pseudonym
They'd know it's me
               They're not too dim
  To shine a light on similarity
             Between two varying laugh tracks despite all the hilarity
        Been getting down to brass tax with a microscope
       I could read the fine print even if both my eyes were closed
     So tie the rope tightly around your own necks
                          As I work far outside of my trajectory from how I make the bow flex
         If I was Archie mixed with Cupid
          I would
    Follow an arrows arc like an archery marksman whose targets are Betty and Veronica's beating hearts
    And when they get hit,
        They both fall pretty hard
      And meet me in my back yard where I get their backs archin'
         Point is, I've got precision aim
    When I'm shooting for emotions
            Make you never feel a thing
      Make you clear minded and focused
             Let you all in on my pain
   Have you buzzin' like a locust
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