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Soury water flow
Ceaseless tears last till death days
I die a millionth living years
Lesion of wound reddish show

I am a victim of war relic
Can't you see, my burnt house
My pair of rag clothe
My battered ink of ignorance

Queuing for a feed
Begging for a drink
**** in a homeless bridge
Conscripted as a child soldier

Can't you see, I am the war relic ?
Voice of refugees status I am
Rebel to my homeland I run
Deprived by mortal quest for power

Politics of hatred wash me to bank of ocean
Can't you see I have one arm, one eye, one embroidery parts
Can't you see am a victim of power mongers
I have foolishly support their quest

I have shouted for the nuke to be test
Justifying their foolish context
they ran away to have a succor of rest
When the war bullet penetrate the wall

I am decorated as a zeroed hero
Holding crutches leaping like a dog
So bad I am abandoned in a refugee camp
Can't you see I am the worst victim of war with relatives buried and burned
with fire of sand and the gods watch without intervention

by
Martin Ijir
Loneliness is pages splayed across the bed
It is clutching the empty space beside me
Writhing in agony, knowing very well
You're not there

Loneliness is having my blood run cold,
My feet solidly planted to the ground
Every time I hear the unfamiliar ring
Of my (prosaic) name

Loneliness is basking in the sweet but transient
Moments of companionship, when your supple
Lips brush mine (and sparks flit down my back)
Knowing they will soon be relics

Loneliness is donning heavy, splotched clothes
Sodden from last night's tears and broken memories
It is having your mind plagued with yesterday
*Loneliness decays your today
Hair styles
Hair colors
Hairdos
Hairfall
Blonde
Brunette
Redhead
Grey
Or just black

A few strands of which
I found in her comb
In one untravelled recess of wardrobe
An untouched memento
From past two decades
Not graying
Not growing
Undeclined
Undestroyed

black and thick

the only relic

for her son!
 Mar 2018 Cristina
Kari
1/9
 Mar 2018 Cristina
Kari
1/9
Uncaged a phoenix traversed into the blazing sun
unfurling its throbbing wings, soaring
The pain a relic of a bygone age.
Mind possessed by the stars
The horizon ablaze with optimism
Marooned

Vapid beauty of this room
Frothing carpet, ocean blue
One wall me, the other you
What lies between is residue

Scribed on soggy, shipwrecked parchment
Questions asked, time forgotten
Who are we?
What do we know?
Into these questions Summer flows
And thrashes at your Autumn’s brinks
Yearlong they torment my brain
Infringing on every season

If not for the manic scheme
To love and having loved be loved
This correspondence to a distant land
With stars, more numerous and brightly lit
Than my burgeoning highway exit
Would by no means have left my hand

But if, against all odds, it will prevail
Extolling truth’s folly, my sorrowful tale
Quells with reason my groundless pride
At having docked on your passionless harbor
Unloading platonic cargo during our youth’s ebbing tide
Must not create union of body or mind
You swallow my horizon, like the sun twilight
Though, one need not chase that orange orb for tomorrow

In this night without fortitude, lewd humor consumes me
Singing with the mouth on my head and your voice inside
I plunge into darkness
Skimming its silky surface
Before zipping it behind me

Shall I drown, as I have lived?
In vain, my dreams your subjects
Taken for ransom in your heart’s Tripoli
Not surmising recompense, I forfeit this
A note belying resonance
Of my heart’s last echoed throe
One desperate effort, giving up
Feed every vestige to the void
Wading, torso encumbered
Each sullen relic of your memory
Falls to the deep’s frigid ebony
Then, only too late am I cognizant
That my own breath is tribute yet spent
Therefore if I were to float or swim
I’d give you every ounce of who I am
Convince you to relinquish me
From your tepid, spurning sea
Then lying beneath moist underbrush
Slowly, breathe no more
MMX

This is basically a revision of my poem Anstoss

My recitation here:
http://youtu.be/v7LdsUwUCEM
 Mar 2018 Cristina
Blue
Mirror mirror on the wall,
Was I always meant to fall?
Roses white, and dying light,
Silver’s sweet forgiving bite,
She'll ask “why?”
No answers found,
And I'll rot deep
Beneath the ground.
For the only kingdom waiting for me,
When I fall to eternal sleep,
Is two feet wide,
And six feet deep.
 Mar 2018 Cristina
Pax
envy
 Mar 2018 Cristina
Pax
At most insecurities defines every envy.
a quote, 6w.

not sure either ill come back or not, writing seems so far away. my darkness keeps invading. life's darkness its weakening my defences..

I truly wish everyone is okay here and doing fine.
No, she isn't a poet
has never inked one
she takes off my weight
gets my things done

so I have enough time
to afford in a way
the luxury of rhyme
clever wordplay!

No, she isn't a poet
not written one line
clean is her slate
sees I'm fine

so I have enough space
and hour of my own
to indulge the grace
of thoughts mind grown!

No, she isn't a poet
no way she would be
she does her best
to see I'm happy

so my words run smooth
poems are easy born
truth and half truth
are spun night and morn!

No, she isn't a poet
cares not a bit
from her toil's sweat
my poems birth sweet

poems aren't her art
in the sun and showers
she grows from her heart
our garden's best flowers!
A tribute to the great gardener she is.
(5 years on hp this day, thanks to all my poet friends, you gifted me a rewarding journey)
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