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 Nov 2014 ipoet
Tom Leveille
here's how it happens
the morning after
you reach into the drawer
where the your t-shirts live
to find it austere
you'll shrug because
you're still drunk
& you can't remember
when last it was
that you had something wet
or how long it's been
since you made the floorboards blush
or why the carpet is upset
who wouldn't be
the contents to the upended ashtray
strewn around the apartment
resemble the aftermath
of the smallest war
to ever take place in norfolk
some midnight thief
must've made off with the lighter
because it isn't in
any of your favorite spots
maybe you chucked it
along with a hundred other things
that make noise when they land
in the neighbors yard
you won't remember putting
the refrigerator's belongings
in the bathtub
or scrawling a buzzard
on the bedroom door
but then again who would
you'll pretend it's spring again
before putting on your winter coat
to go out front with a cigarette
in your mouth
you'll hope for a passing stranger
to *** a light from
or drag yourself to the corner
with couch cushion change
to buy a new lighter
and on your way
you won't bother looking back
this is just another day
on eggshells for no reason
another november
choking on birthday candles
on your way home
you step over beer cans
the kind you fell in love with
and wonder who
had the last laugh last night
or if anyone said a word at all
it might've been another
moment of clarity
it might have been some idiot savant
any adjective that feels like home
anything that keeps you thirsty
All I want for Christmas
is some food to eat.
Oh what a treat
to have some meat.

All I want for Christmas
is clean water to drink,
stuff that doesn't stink,
that would be cool I think.

All I want for Christmas
is the bombs to stop,
no more to drop.
That would be the top.

All I want for Christmas
is for our food to grow,
the plants we sow
now that would be a show.

All I want for Christmas
is to be free to learn.
Not to be a germ
because I want to learn.

All I want for Christmas
is some medication.
and some dedication
from the United Nation.

All I want for Christmas
is to grow up strong.
Am I so wrong
wanting to belong.

All I want for Christmas
is some equal rights
and somewhere to sleep
through the coldest nights.

All I want for Christmas
is to earn a crust.
With employers
that we can really trust.

All I want for Christmas
is a chance at life
for a man and wife
not to live in strife.

All I want for Christmas
is oh so far away
and on this day
this is what I pray.
12th Nov 2014
 Jul 2012 ipoet
Hallie Bear
I guess when you're a three to five year old
Smacking a soccer ball
Sweetly connecting it with your foot
Or folding an apple into your shirt at snack
Or playing tag with a blonde girl you've never met
Makes not speaking english
stop mattering.
I volunteer at a week long camp in North Cambridge called Soccer Nights. It's a free soccer camp for 6-12 year olds with a 3-5 play group on the side. It brings together tons of newly immigrated familys and is amazing at building relationships. This is a rather badly written poem but I would love if someone read this and took the time to look Soccer Nights up. It's a wonderful operation that doesn't happen often.
 Jul 2012 ipoet
Poet 5068
1
 Jul 2012 ipoet
Poet 5068
1
There is a six year old boy with a bike and training wheels in tow  
He is zooming up and down the culdesac on a tuesday
afternoon because it's sunny and that's what he knows.

I can see him.
He's been there for an hour and a half.

The whole time he's been focusing on the road and his goal to get to the other side and back again. It reminds me so much of my childhood. When the wind whistled in your ears just because it could.

It's 1pm on a tuesday afternoon and i'm watching him have the time of his life while i'm shut up in my room. I can see him grinning and laughing and smiling.
on his red race bike, fast as lightning.

He doesn't know yet that there are kids faster than him, he doesn't know what lies around the street corners on both end. But he's living life to the fullest extent.

He barely realizes that his mom is dead.

I think his name is Dylan.

I think he has ambition. I think he sees the world in high definition. And i’m jealous of his position, for while he races and dips. I droll on in the rolling doldrums of tuesday afternoon.

He zooms, while I’m shut up in my room
 Jul 2012 ipoet
Zulu Samperfas
Notice the bad thoughts
and watch them pass away
don't try to push
fighting them makes you
hold on tighter
only notice, gently
and let them float by like a fallen
leaf in a stream
a cloud on a windy day
an abandoned toy in a back yard pool
Any ship can sink.
No captain can stop this.
All it takes is one second,
And you’re sinking into darkness.

As I descend, fade to black-
Skip the “shades of gray.”
A single phrase to break this vessel:
I need some time away.

Before I’m found all blue,
Another phrase to make me think.
*You don’t always make it back to land.
Every ship will sink.
 Jul 2012 ipoet
Wuji
Laying in the dirt,
Staring at the sky,
Middle of the night,
No I'm not high.
Feeling so connected,
Love how I am tied,
Then the thought comes in,
Can't believe it's mine.
What if the stars are holes punched in the sky?

What if stars are,
The good in the bad?
What if stars are,
The happy in the sad?

Light in the sky,
Stars way up high.
I sit here away from it all,
Laying in the dirt ignoring my call.
Manhunt thoughts.
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