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 Jan 2018 unnamed
Yasin
Anxiety is...
Angst is the absence of security
Grabs your throat until you
witness a desperate scratching
Apparently a quiet squeak appears
It feels like a filthy, stuffing beast
you can't sense it clearly, lucidly
Breath is just a sluggish blaze
Hurting everything on his path
till it leaves thick scars
Bleeds deep darkness behind

No need to panic.
Everyday improvement seems to seethe
By time everything has been melted away
but every last drop of the urge to live
flows gently away until it closely solidifies.
Remaining hope securely condenses
into
****** sure-fire
nothing.
...
After I had some negative thoughts I just wanted to distract myself and set my feelings down.
 Jan 2018 unnamed
vanessa
It scares me everyday that you’ll forget me
Just like it scares me everyday that you might be with her
I think that hurts my heart most of all
The thought of someone else touching my favorite part of you
In my dreams you’ll always be mine
Because you’re one hell of a war
And I’m not done fighting
I don’t think I’ll ever be
Trust me when I say that you changed my life
And I’ll love you forever
And then some
And I’ll love you past mountains
and then some
And I’ll love you through years
And then some
(v.m)
 Jan 2018 unnamed
Urmila
Within my soul I’ve found yours
Are they different?
They are one, they are one with the cosmos,
But our sub souls have a strong gravity acting on them,
A gravity unexplained by science,
A gravity we’ve chosen to name love,
Scientifically oxytocin creates this feeling, but oxytocin is a by product of this very gravity,
What we choose to believe is up to us
The sky is blue
Love is the fifth dimension
A day will come, far far away,
A collective surge of this gravity,
Will pull all creatures together,
There will be no anti love - no hunger no wars,
This dimension we only experienced in parts,
Will save us from our own destruction
 Dec 2017 unnamed
Akira Chinen
We sculpt clay into the things
we cannot force our bodies into
we string the alphabet
into stories we are afraid to live
we paint with colors we cannot see
and we ignore the music
inside the beat of our hearts

as we forget what it means to live
we muse on what was
once beautiful about being alive
and forget our thoughts
as we stare emptily to the sky

and the night swallows the day
and the day murders the night
and prayers become graveyards
for dead gods
and our beds become coffins
for dreams

round and round the clay
of the earth spins
and slips through our fingers
as time is something we waste
and our reflection
is a ghost of once was
and what could be

if we could only remember
who we were before
we became prisoners inside
our own minds and found shame
in the shape of our flesh

before we needed the alphabet
to speak of love
and metaphors to hide behind
and fairy tales to mend our wounds

back when the music
inside the beat of our hearts
was all we needed
to know that we were beautiful
 Dec 2017 unnamed
Nat Lipstadt
Time: 7:30 pm
Temp.: 68F

~~~
overlooking the runways,
festooned by
accidental heavenly whimsy,
or humanistic whimsical inten-sity,
all the the planes and trucks are flashing
electrifying speckles, of eclectically synced
red and green

it is not my holiday,
but no matter,
like every New Yorker this day,
I am happily celebrating its
double U,
unique, unusual

"record breaking warmth"

yes, the Fahrenheit is outtasight, and by the dawn of
early eve~night,
the Centigrade is spiraling in reverse retrograde,
as the temp eases on down, just below seventy degrees,
on this dewinterized twenty fourth day of
December, two nought and fifteen

traffic is light, the terminal, an unbusy, slim shadow of itself,
the maddening crowds gone, now all are among
the dearly departed and either/or, the newly arrived

so composition of the observational, brings cheer and smiles to my faith,
(I mean my face),
the crowning quietude of clear skies, the absence of street smart
city  bustle and hustle,
the languid atmosphere at the gates,
(where seldom is heard an encouraging word)#
makes me reconsider the true meaning of
the au courant phraseology of this day

"record breaking warmth"

for there is indeed
a calm invisible warmth suffusing all tonite,
chests glowing from fireplaces within,
contentment chamber containers in both hearth and heart,
and I am thinking
miracle,
about all the human warmth
on this celebrated evening,
holy night

indeed,
it is breaking records of
recorded human fusion,
the united commonality of millions warming
his and her stories world-over,
that your personal poet is
warming to record
# but not tonight, as I am
unbelievably,
upgraded!
 Dec 2017 unnamed
gabriela
i want to come home for the holidays.
forget the presents, forget the socks
and how many ornaments
have kissed the hardwood--
i need somebody to tell me
that staying in one piece is
overrated anyways.

i don't want to come home to
boisterous guests
pushing shoulders
and swallowing knives
as party tricks, no.
i don't want that.

instead, i'd like to come home
to a home for once.
brick and mortar,
selfishly cemented.
no gift wrapped apologies,
no socks, no guests,
just us.
merry christmas you guys. find somewhere warm.
 Dec 2017 unnamed
She Writes
I say I deserve better,
And I know it’s true.
But if I believe it,
Why do I keep coming back to you?

I say that I am special,
And I know I’m worth more.
But if I know,
Than what am I fighting for?

I said this is the last time,
This is the end.
But if it’s over,
Why am I back here again?
 Dec 2017 unnamed
Nico Julleza
In a lonely place succumbs.
To my childhood till this day.
Carves the age of longevity.
When colors were once remained.
Blue captured eyes like fame.
Streets pathed along the way—
Guiding to a melancholy lane.

In times of November breeze.
Boat by boat each one sail's,
The building's growing moss—
that cries the tears of rain.
Slipping like a sultry state,
Washing what can never stay.
Filling through but twas too late.

To the race walking in romans.
Sparkles every narrative palm.
Marigolds that lead their way,
The cold traded from warm.
Everybody's longing a friend.
Dark night was a weeping tomb,
In places were life meets the end.
#Blue #Nature #Emotions #Friend

Missing someone I never met

(NCJ)POETRYProductions. ©2017
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