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Don't you sing me
another love-song
enough I've had
my love all went wrong-

don't you tell me
love is sweet as a rose
my sense of smell is lost
now my poor heart I close-

don't you persuade me
to go in search of another
too many tears I've shed
I don't ever wish again to be a lover-

don't you write me a poem
of love pure and over-glorified
from life I've walked away
my feelings have long ago sadly died.
* copyright 2019
 Mar 2019 Hamed M Dehongi
Simoné
It took me seven years
to realise
the words in my mind
were too deep for
my mouth to dig up
I thought it was easier
to open my skin
and let the truth
pour down my arms

It took me seven years
to realise
nobody should be allowed
to touch parts
of your home
or hold pieces  
of your heart
that you don't yet understand

It took me seven years
to realise
I will wear these scars
forever
I'll carry them
through every smile
every kiss
every concerned gaze
I'll carry them
to my grave

It took me seven years
to realise
the pain carved
into the walls
of my castle
etchings of
attempting to disappear
are not a story of weakness
but a tale of
how I survived
If only we could fly like  
those that tweet or hoot
without aid of jet or  
parachute

For I sure don't like  
wings that boom and roar
just so they can take off  
and soar

Ah, to fly without petrol, diesel  
or fuel
Oh, to halt that taloned midair  
duel *

Birds they don't pollute  
the air
nor need they any airline  
fare

So if only I too could rise  
and glide
and let the wind be my  
sole guide

I'd be happy to fly all the  
way to 'em' faraway stars
if I was assured I'd risk  
no charring scars.

Flying without aviation  
formalities
I could be sightseeing  
many more cities

Ah I so wish to fly just  
like a jay or jackdaw
Then I'd fly across all and  
every border
For I'd know nor follow
no man-made law!

If only we needed no darned immigration pass or visa
We could have visited so many more touristy places
Say even the spectacular and popular pyramids of Giza
And we could have known different cultures and races
Ah, a stylish photo next to the leaning tower of Pisa
And return with exotica like a framed pic of the Mona Lisa
*the. Starred line refers to the amazing midair talined fight btw  eagles I watched on the telly.

My  profile pic is from the Internet reflecting this newest poem.
 Feb 2019 Hamed M Dehongi
Jen
I get it now
What's really
Going on.
I've decided
The system
We live in is
A computer system
We exist within
A network of
Branches
Far reaching
Our framework
And skeleton a
Matrix within
The system
Our inner
Veins the wires
The blood
Pumping within
The system
We live in
I may be broken
But I'm anything far from fragile
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