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 Dec 2016 Ellie Sora
Calli Kirra
I am red or blue,
silver or black
and you see purple and gray
I can be a liar,
I can be the biggest fault,
Knocking houses down
Maybe I get what I want,
But like an empty loft
I echo with footsteps
Even when they're soft
But never when you're there
You soak me up
You were never a quitter
And I'll fight all night
Because like you, I'm not
 Dec 2016 Ellie Sora
Paul Butters
Back in the twenty first century
The world was in chaos.
There was no World Gov.
Democracy was limited to certain “Nations”
As such territories were called.
(We were so territorial then).

Millions died of malnutrition
In places called “Asia”, “Africa” and elsewhere.
Factions fought for land, resources
And “Religious” beliefs
That I will describe to you later.

In those days people were persecuted
For their race, gender
And any way in which they differed from “the norm”.

Anyone who spoke up against injustice
And countless other wrongs
Was branded “Un-PC”
Humiliated
Before his (or her) peers.

Those were troubled times,
Back in those “frontier days”.
Be thankful we are now civilised:
United Human Race,
Worldwide Democracy,
People Loving,
Compassionate
For the Good of All.

Welcome to my history class.
Let us learn from our mistakes,
And never repeat them.

Paul Butters
This is for Paulo Gomes, my drinking pal, who remarks that the world is full of starving people and injustice. More a statement than a poem, perhaps, but hey......
 Dec 2016 Ellie Sora
Chaos
Just when I think
I'm finally getting better
And that the shadows have receded
Something happens
And suddenly I'm not
I'm not okay
I'm not better
I'm back where I started
With the shadows as my only friends
too long your lips have stared
into the body of my thoughts,
studying the patterns
and the features,
deciphering the blueprints,
my irrational being

...those petals,
their textures burning in the color,
popping out like embers, fed
every regulated breath

you are compelled
to lick away the dryness,
wipe the prints and traces,
put out the flames covertly...
but make it look casual:
you cannot be caught spying;
or the government of words
denies everything,
severing the strings,
abandoning its secret desire
behind enemy lines,
to be captured, questioned,
and tortured
by your very own
collaborationist conscience
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