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 Feb 2015 Emmanuel Coker
ryn
When gentle breezes turn into gale,
     remember that you will prevail.

       You may tear at these pages daily,
in search of peace and tranquillity.
   Planting hope and scattering wishes,
    Spilling blood in smears and blemishes...
       Flying out of the dark on
     wings of birds.
       Bridging the rippling void through
           severed words.

                Seeking...
             Reaching...
               Imploring...
            Writing...


     Be not wary of eyes that speak.
  Be not afraid of mouths that leak.

Know that our scribbles are only
   sacred to us.
       Emotions and thoughts we
           bind and truss.

  What we put forth, we owe it to ourselves...
     Bits of us we've kept hidden in the
darkest rooms; atop the highest shelves.

You...
      are wielder of your mighty pen.
You...
      determine how far or long your
         words would span.

   Your words... They're precious gold.
Many or little; be them new or old.

So let drip your ink with little reservation...
  Let us grow from strength to strength
     as life teaches its lessons.

   Rise up and live on in these here pages,
     For here exist only
         freedom;
               not cages.
Dedicated to writers here who are always apprehensive about posting or think very little of their writes.

Know that your words are gold. And the rest of us as readers are lucky enough be granted access into your mind, heart and life.

Keep the faith. Keep writing. Keep posting...
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A baseline that you feel in your chest,
Humming thick in your ears,
And your mouth,
You just want to live in their blur of impactful words,
That you don’t understand,
Because it’s just a baseline to you,
But have you ever felt so proud of someone?
That what they’re saying, or what they’re playing or who they’re being,
Becomes the only thing that’s keeping off the rain,
And you can see every tooth in the room,
Every heart that becomes unbroken and
        every heart that breaks,
Well it’s a shooting star,
Baby it’s gold dust,
Because his gaze is tattooed on your body,
Under your sweater,
Under your skirt,
Yours is a crime scene littered with his fingerprints,
But you’re no ****** victim,
Jackie,
       Jane,
             Joan,
Wife,
     Mother,
             Daughter,
Survivor,
          Protector,
                     Warrior,
Woman,
Know when it’s dark,
And subtle shadows are all that remains of your bodies,
Finding all the bones in your shoulder,
The piano strings that move your fingers,
And each indentation of your spine,
Is a bible,
But God won’t give him strength,
It’s your skeleton that is fortitude,
You’re the dragon protecting the castle,
You’re Rosie the Riveter,
You can hold up the world with perfectly manicured hands,
You will listen,
And you will care,
Let him breathe in the fractions of your soul that you exhale,
That way,
Every standing ovation and
     every wound that heals,
Is saturated with the influence of you,
Though you don’t understand,
That baseline you can feel in your chest,
It is your to be proud of too.
 Feb 2015 Emmanuel Coker
SK
maybe if you texted me some other time
besides the wee hours of the morning,
when i am nestled in my bed
willing my mind to dream of anything
other than you.
maybe if you texted me some other time
besides the wee hours of the morning,
when you finally worked up the confidence
or maybe just the stupidity
to say what we both know is true.
maybe if you didn't wait
until there was no blood left in your veins
and only alcohol
to send me a message
we could have a conversation about the past and present.
maybe if you didn't tell me
how much you missed me
when i know that you will confess if all to her
i wouldn't be so afraid to tell you that i miss you too.
maybe if you texted me some other time
besides the wee hours of the morning,
you would get a reply.
I've heard it's possible to fly.
I've heard of people doing it.
Apparently if you push somebody around long enough, then they can.
I've heard they fly when they give up.
I've heard they fly without others knowing.
Apparently sticks and stones break the our bones, but words can make us fly.
I've heard that they cry.
I've heard they can't stand it.
Apparently they stop standing, and end up laying down like nothing ever happened.
I've heard that when you fly there's no turning back.
I've heard that sometimes flying breaks your neck.
Apparently when you fly you end up 6 feet in the ground.
I've heard it's possible to fly.
if looks could ****, I would have killed you by now.
Do you ever just wonder
What is like
To feel the pain
and loose sight
of what's real
Within in time
Words will ****
Little nothing's
That mean to much
Falling to death
Seeking a clutch
No escape
From your own head
The monsters live in you
Not under the bed
All the lies
That you made up
Will eat your mind
Cause you to throw up
Never leaving the bed
All is lost all is gone
Demons in your head
All will fade time will end
And that's all that we need
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