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 Jul 2015 Cristina
mk
too many poems
too many poets
describing the
same **** feelings
and yet
throughout the centuries
none of us
have ever found
the right words
// spent my whole life tryna put it into words //

thank you so much for the daily ♡
My nightmare woke me up in the morning
to a dark night ceiling

I turned over to see
the blinds holding out the light
A faint grey line escaping
From the corners

I closed my eyes
"It must be seven am,"
I thought

The clock told me differently
It was eleven am

The sun is high up in the sky
by this time
Usually

I had dreamt
of walking in strange
dark places
where I shouldn't have been

I thought that gender equality
meant not being scared of
walking alone

You came along and helped me out
showing me otherwise

My heart which had been waiting
for something bad to happen
calmed,
like the premonition had passed
It knew what had been foretold
had come about
My mentor spoke to me of two rivals,
Once, they had been friends in some distant past.
But the years have eaten their love and made grudges manifest.
|The two shattered into broken glass

To my wise master I asked only one,
One question... In all my range.
One question I asked:
“What changed?”

In the outskirts, at the home of my daughter
Where you can stare at the stars or passing cars
None more brighter than the other,
We share memories of my grandmother.
In the photographs, she looks so much younger.
Not frail, but a fighter, lover and saintly|

To me, she asks plainly,
One question, and one question only.
Sifting through the ages of years past:
“What Changed?”

At the kitchen table, feeling inadequate,
My lover screaming and frustrated,
I recall memories when we had been intimate.
Times when movement was made for desire and not duty
|A calendar of nights left in confused abstinence

I interrupt.
She delays rage.
I beg,
“What Changed?”

_

In the last few hours of night
The dawn reaches me at last.
I had locked moments-
Literal seconds of time as the truth.
But it was always changing
In flux and morphing.
Turning into something new
Just for a moment, and then on again
“What Changed?”
Everything.
Always.
 Jul 2015 Cristina
Joe Cole
TROLLS
 Jul 2015 Cristina
Joe Cole
Trolls may rant and trolls may rave
But they have hollow minds and little do they gain
I've not yet seen a single troll get the daily poem
Perhaps it's their ineptitude caused by stagnation of the brain
They choose a victim without conscious thought
Then attack with words of bitter bile
But then forget the Wolf bites deep
But still retains his smile
Now trolls are big and ugly
With the foulest words and breath
But, oh yes trolls remember
THE WOLVES ALL RUN IN PACKS
In support of my good friend Quin
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