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//
The Child who
Takes pollute air
Since his birth
Slowly and Slowly
He who has forgotten
The purity of nature

Day by day
He has lost
His serene soul
Now he does not recognize
The beautiful green
He has almost forgotten all the way
To the release of

All the fault of the person
Who is to take over again,
To be released
Along the way to
Where it all away

Where,

Politics is only for the king
There the truth is always
Caught up in lies
There is no opposition
To his position
Before the creation
Of the prison

There,
However,
The word democracy is admitted
To the hospital,
And there is no way
Where all dreams are overrun
Where the sun has arisen
And has beckoned him,
His voice has sunk again

Where,

You are quietly separated
Is distinguished
From the beautiful

Your eyes are a waste of
Add all to fade
 
Your tongue is tasteless
Messy to eat
 
Light will be taken away
You stuck to the four walls

Words send away
Your pen down

His(King) fawning
To consciousness
Where there is
No opposition in opinion

However,
There is not an option
For Freedom

Where there no pigeon
To fly in the sky
And there is not going
To write a poem

Because it may go
Against the King
Where the freedom
Is completely exiled
//
@ Musfiq us shaleheen
where freedom exile
You can't safely have a cigarette outside of the bus terminal
without a couple of folk asking for one.
You can't safely have a cigarette in general.
But, if five of them have to last you a night and a sunrise,
you don't really mind turning down a few nameless hands.
Some of the bus drivers like to talk about football, weather;
others complain about management or the patrons;
a few don't say much at all, avoiding sympathy.
They're probably the smart ones.
They don't want to learn the sad stories in between stops.
I usually like to just sit in the back and ride out the best bumps.
The handrails jiggle and crash with every pothole.
-
The men who work at the metal scrap yard
usually get on in front of Debbie's Diner on 22nd street.
Bundled up for warmth and firm of face, they only speak to each other.
Small talk about who almost missed the bus, broken crane joints,
and who moved the most barrels of copper piping fill the blocks.
They tend to pick on the guy who runs the aluminum can crusher;
big guy, they call him "Boose" and he couldn't be much older than I am.
His hands and lips are dry and cracked from exposure,
but his face still shows ember of teenage years, though jilted.
There is a bar that serves three-dollar chili across the street, spicy.
The workers go there when they miss the first bus, have a beer,
down a bowl of boiling chili, and catch the return bus in better moods.
-
The railroads on Brush College road tend to hold up traffic.
The ADM plant doesn't really mind if a few twenty-something mothers
are late to their practical nursing and phlebotomy classes,
but they voice their complaints out of a cracked window to the side
of a ten story soybean silo nonetheless; steaming ears and all.
I stare at the graffiti on the laggard train cars, each unique
in color, quality, style, and message; the industrial Louvre.
These waits sometimes last a half hour or more.
In the days before Pell grant rewards come in,
when students still feel like they're working toward tangible cash,
the seats are all packed with heavy breathers.
The air becomes thick with community college carbon coughs.
tlp
 Jan 2015 David W Clare
B
Hate
 Jan 2015 David W Clare
B
I hate you
I hate the way you laugh
I hate the way your eyes squint when you smile
I hate your long, skeleton-like fingers
I hate your freckles that scatter across your nose and cheeks
I hate your long legs
I hate your body
I hate your messy brown hair
I hate your bruised skin
I hate your knobby knees
I hate the way you laugh
I hate your voice
I hate how you wrinkle your forehead
I hate how you lock your heart away from people
I hate how negative you are
I hate how you let people use you
I hate how you can't tell people "no"
I hate how you give in so easily
I hate how you care about people who don't give a **** about you
I hate how you love people more than they love you
I hate how you fall for lies
I hate how you care about what people think
I hate how you try so hard to please people
I hate how ditzy you can be
I hate how you can be so clueless to the outside world
I hate how you make the same mistakes over and over again
I hate how you let things get to you
I hate how you're so forgiving
I hate how you give everyone a chance
I hate how you give people second chances when they don't deserve it
I hate how you feel guilty about everything even when you've done nothing wrong
I hate how you let people take advantage of you
I hate how sad you are
I hate how you hide your feelings
I hate how you bottle everything up until you blow
I hate how you break people's hearts
I hate how you don't care
I hate how you don't have motivation to do anything
I hate how you get annoyed so easily
I hate how you're willing to do anything for people who wouldn't even lift a finger for you
I hate how you give yourself to people to fill the void inside you
I hate how your body constantly shakes because you're always nervous about something
I hate how you feel trapped
I hate how your chest gets tight when you think about how much you miss him
I hate the way you treat yourself


I hate how much I hate myself*


                                B.S.
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