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 Mar 2016 Fatıma
Mike Hauser
it is my
intention to
collect the world
old and new
and store it all
in my garage
all the ends
with all the odds
one piece
one treasure
at a time
until the world's
entirely mine
then i will sit
with all i've got
and enjoy the world
in my garage
 Mar 2016 Fatıma
 Mar 2016 Fatıma
rhuematic rumblings of a restless mind
ramble across the page
been awhile, since the muse muttered
been some time since she sashayed
dry mouth, dry wit, words bitter and unkind
all tasting of salt and sadness

yet here i am mendicant me
standing at the wall,
wailing for all to see...

once written, once a writer
once a poet... wailing

for words to align
in a semblance of song
for words to joyful, courageous, strong

waiting for the world to be coloured
other than beige
for the seed to be fruit
for the herb to be sage

til then i rumble and quietly rage
 Jan 2016 Fatıma
Everybody has their thing,
The thing that makes them unique,
That, even when stifled by the mundane
everyday routines of mediocre living,
Undaunted, unaffected, bravely remains.

At times, we forget our thing-
We are made to, or make ourselves believe
That some other things are our thing,
Like, you know, 9-5 jobs, paychecks,
Project submissions, career graphs,
Shallow relationships, fake smiles,
Fake compliments...

Yes, I agree, they sometimes force themselves onto us,
But what we need to know is, that they're not
what our lives should revolve around;
what we should dance around, is that quality,
that precious thing that is ours,
and solely ours to own,
And, though worldly lies and trivialities,
Come and go away, as they please,
Our thing, crystal and true, faithfully stays.

I lived that feeling of fulfillment today,
Letting it win the tussle with the to-study list,
Letting it down the vague guilt of procrastination,
Letting it break free of the web of this and that,
that life ties us into-
I embraced my thing, and let it run untamed,
And now I'll read it, edit it, love it- my poetry,
And ponder over its name.
 Jan 2016 Fatıma
Oh Allah !
 Jan 2016 Fatıma
Deep, Deep inside myself
something asking for help
Not from her or him
But from the one
who created this universe from none
Oh Allah!
my heart is regretful for what I've done
I've spent my life looking for fun,
forgetting that in just a blink of an eye,
I'll be gone
Allah !
you are the most forgiven
Please, forgive your sleeves
for what they've lost of their time

we all need to wake up
eager to make up
make up the time we've lost
by whatever it costs

Allah, through my pray,
show me the right way
Guide me all the day
to not feel that passion to stay
to stay in the life that is nothing,
however a way
a way to what you've promised us
once we commit ourselves to what you say

I surely know if someone goes to paradise
not by their deeds
but by your kindness, sympathy and nice
Otherwise, the hell will burn them, moreover engorge them as a starved person devours rice !

Once I fall in a mistake,
only your mercy toward  your sleeves keeps me calm
and I feel you around,
shedding light on a way,
I can fix what I've done
I will be the happiest one
if you forgive me before I'm gone

and as a saying goes:
"as long there is life , there is hope"
So, please keep us gripping that rope !
 Jan 2016 Fatıma
Austin Heath
I feel as if I'm
some terrible sea creature
woken from slumber.

A Leviathan,
a Kraken from the locker.
An evil intent.

The will to rest. Sleep.
For one thousand years or more.
Stay under the waves.

Until they are gone.
Until the faces are new.
The will to sleep. Death.
 Jan 2016 Fatıma
david badgerow
my neighbors all say they can hear me singing
as i sink back down into my earthbound body
still tweaking my ******* with my eyebrows
arched & tongue still stuck lolling in the corner of my mouth

i'm confronted with a syrup mixture
of humiliation & guilt when they find me
in a fetal bundle in the early dawn light
bathing on the mattress ablaze with spiral light from
the window blinds

my shame is a palpable cartoon ****-cloud
of self-awareness as they
stand in awe & fear of the mysterious throbbing phenomena
attached between my hipbones

but in that moment of splendid transcendence
when my wet throat echoed the chirping song
of the radiator before they caught me
i was breathing vapor bent over a shovel violent hot chest
heaving like an attic full of abandoned possessions
liberating suppressed vivid stardust
memories & chanting ecstatically
sweaty complexion kneecaps quivering
like plastic water-bottle minnows
trapped in a meat locker releasing
stress from the bulbous pustules
collected on my face & soft jawline

liquid parts of me chased the low cirrus clouds
through long looping tunnels carved into the taut
blue january sky meadow as silver-tipped steam
hissed from the powerful glands in my armpits
i tried to regain control over my own
turbulent chaos almost crumbling

i heard sock feet stuttering in the foyer
& suddenly they appeared eating a winter peach
under the doorway trellis or with an armful
of fresh-cut flowers between the hallway of tall hedges
slack-jawed eyes vacant like so many broken windows
witnessing a spring butterfly devour a snake while i weep
into a magazine feverish with well-earned fatigue
left hand keeping a tight grip on my only future

later on i'm standing outside on a thriving carpet
of fungus as sunlight glares off my freckled
chest & the damp earth breathes aggressive moss
onto the trunks of old trees
crying bitterly because i
dug this hole in a dream of fitful sleep
my friends must always be high
because they all say
i'm bringing them down but
i'm scared one day i'll wake up
& there will be nothing left to say or
i'll have concrete where i used to see teeth

everything tonight is real
that's a lie but i'm going to continue
whispering it to myself like a mandala mantra
the sunset was almost unbearably beautiful
& i stood defiant with my back pushed against
it between hard edged pillars
of self-destruction & self-fulfillment
as it wreaked its havoc on the opposite sky
gray radio static warped through my ears
when i finally felt spiritually large enough
& my eyes clouded once again
with spontaneous emotion
 Dec 2015 Fatıma
Red Fox
Drip Drop
 Dec 2015 Fatıma
Red Fox
Can I have you
Once more?
Can I have you
Some more?
Hooked on you.
A better word to employ.

Can I have you
Just for tonight?
Your warm embrace
Sends the boogie man away

Can I have you
All to myself?
Is too much of a good thing
Really bad for your health?
So when will the horrors of your company
Turn to joy?

Or maybe they wont!
Stuck in a nightmare
Of my vices and faults.
Looking for a resolution
That I subconsciously don't want.

Every drop is a momentary release.
Moving one step forward
But always two steps back.
Trapped in addiction
Is always defeat!
Lunchtime topic
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