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The tears do not stop
The dam has been broke
Unknown reason for the rain
Believing they are over
Only to start again

A song, a phrase in a book
It does not matter
Even just a look

So many things resonate in her mind
She swears she hears voices
Low in timber
Causing the forever ember

Scents drifting upon the breeze
All too familiar
None putting her at ease
Feeling the warmth of masculine hands
She blinks trying to hold back
Floodgates open instead

Tonight is hard
She doesn't understand
She is strong
Tonight dropped gaurd
Breaking her tether
*things fall apart so things can fall together
I am truly unsure where this has come from. All my emotions are out of their cage.
Oh* howIfucking hate <loving> you
{forgetyou}
& how too u try to placate  _ YoU;
wear your passion // darling
own.  your. wants.
you _ are _ so _ much _  prettier
   with.    them.         on.
ElNido

I found no water dripping from my hairtips
As I had that face-to-face look to my fave jeans.
Lost as when I did the transferring of feet,
I thought that departure was quite a break of heart.

The open window has sent me a bright invitation,
Sun's glaring but I never saw her fine reflection.
I felt the Air strolls through my skin
The taste of the floral serum enveloped by the sachet.

I had poured myself with the aquifer's liquor,
The remembrance of the search was over my psyche.
I could still feel the pain that excites my upper muscles
As I tried pushing and pulling to break the ground level.

Cuddling the old reversible jeans, he says I'm Free to Go,
I crowned my soul with an inner bliss and whispered to the Air.
My eyes were shut for a moment, but I was an alliance with them -
Of them whose not emptied yet * revitalizes my potential.

One boasts that *
the Light was completed,
The other has kept me envy his softening skills.
I never thought that there's still hope for dull flying-tips
But they simply say, "It's not the end of bad hair days."
how you like to tie me up
in knots
{{not the way i want}}
you hold my hand
you hold the cards
& then you shut it off
you play it down
[if only you had kept your mouth]
[if only i hadn't had you]
on my tongue
your hands in my hair
i wouldn't care
i could shrug it off
but you dig in those nails
{{while i make you fl _o _ at}}
& it's not enough
your ups and downs
i can't keep up
i'm torn apart
Migrant refugee
a place of temporary
community is everything for
The Afghan, Syrian, Iranian and Africans of all
from the jungle they came, to The Jungle they go.
A place to pass through hope
to go over to Dover and
beyond. Think so fond
of the other side.
Work, new life, peace
and family they seek.
On a journey to travel, men,
women and kids flee from
an evil chasing their race.
They stare death in its
face the whole way.
To leave it all behind in hope
to find that which is true.
Some French help, some unsure,
others come from afar
to serve and ask
"What can I do?"
to find there is nothing but to see.
Some pray and some say
"I will not stay"
after months of waiting
to leave with no more tricks in
their sleeve, oh Lord when
will they believe in this Jesus
who sets all free.
Calais is a city in France that borders Dover England separated by the English channel. Muslim refugees flee their nation as bombings increase in their neighborhoods from ISIS and other evils. By the time they have traveled through deserts and mountains fighting starvation and exposure to then drift across the Aegean Sea into Athens Greece, those who survive try to make it into the rest of Europe for freedom. Those few hundreds that make it out of Athens find themselves in a place called "The Jungle" in Calais, France. This is basically an old landfill that does not get used anymore, so the generous French government has made use of this space and has made a camp for the refugees in this place. Everyone who is there wants to continue moving to find more work and a better life. Hope and despair are a constant battle in these peoples reality. This refugee camp is called The Jungle because of the diversity of nations and culture represented in this community. What once was an official government camp for 1500 people is now surrounded by 5000 refugees in "tent shacks" and makeshift buildings provided by local ministries because no one plans on staying long term. But after a few years of a growing population, human attributes have made small businesses, shops and cafes with different communities in this vast landscape making every day life palatable for the people living in these  conditions. Every night people are trying to be smuggled across the English Channel on boat in anyway they can find.Hiding in a crate, truck and many others are a passport in their eyes as getting official paperwork in near impossible.
Turn around, girl
I don't want to see your backside
I want to see that pretty face
A thousand smiles is much more beautiful than body parts could ever be.
You're a human being
It's time they start seeing you that way
Just come my way
And get to know each other
That sounds like a decent start
 Jun 2016 the Sandman
David Barr
Your beautiful iris reminds me of a captivating and ancient ice-age.
So, haste ye back to the final origins of the beginning and blink tears from those heavy ducts where chords are a warm and rhythmic expression of your audible silence.
This democratic estate has been compartmentalised and displayed for all to purchase.
Therefore, let us now ***** watchtowers in cross-cultural locations of diminished Gaelic solidarity and submit our souls to the spectres of haunted forests.
How mystical is your awareness, my friend of questionable statements. I lavish your growth in fertile soils, where explanations lay bare their very soul to the wrath of the gods.
Cast it outward and share the spoils of the spell, because sound can be kicked in a forward direction.
Oh, brazen star, I worship your stealth amidst this universal parade of elocutionist conquistadors.
Draw your sword in the rising mist of the dawn and let us nakedly parade around fires of fertility.
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