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 Apr 29 irinia
Carlo C Gomez
Alcohol.
And train schedules.
A commuter's tightrope.
The last stop, Hpnotiq.
Where it rains sadness.
Where they're numb
To the moment of inertia.
Preferring instead to
Live on the rim.
Those that people believe all religions as equally true

The philosophers that believe all religions are equally false

The politicians that believe all religions are equally useful
In nature's math, the seasons turn,  
From green to gold, and blue we yearn.  
With science as our guide,  
Through time, we glide,  
Embracing changes we all discern.
how nature and time constantly change, like the turning of seasons. With the help of science, we understand and accept these changes as a natural part of life.
Every breath, a whispered prayer,
In silent winds, I find You there.
Each heartbeat drums a sacred song,
Through fear and night, You lead me on.

When shadows fall and feet grow weak,
Your steady hand is all I seek.
Through breath and beat, through dark and light,
I walk by faith, not by sight.
 Apr 28 irinia
Evan Stephens
Young men in glazy unison
wreck over lipstick shoals

until last call's klaxons
lure a few to paddle back

& pony up for a last fist
of foaming heart.

I'm past my sailing days,
so I watch from hot shade

with germanium on/off eyes,
surrounded by ten brave

who said yes to an evening.
Leaving into the electric bower

under bud-sparked trees,
our heels are free of night,

everything is open,
& forty-five seems no great age.
 Apr 28 irinia
Thomas W Case
I was starving in
Pennsylvania.
One night, I had
enough.
Done with it all.
The poverty and
sickness.
The drunken mad
nights
and dog-fight days.
Brutality for breakfast.
Served sunny side up
runny yolks with
butterflies trapped in
the yellow sunshine.
Spiders built webs in
my soul.

I stood on the torn-up
couch in my living room and
yelled at the walls.

Listen, you devil.
You want me, you better be
ready for a fight.
I paced the floor like a
washed-up heavyweight champ,
eyeing the ceiling like a
drunken sparrow in a cat's mouth.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8k5NY8ZMx3I
Here is a link to my YouTube channel, where I read poetry from my recently published books, Seedy Town Blues Collected Poems and It's Just a Hop, Skip, and Jump to the Madhouse, available on Amazon.

www.thomaswcase.com
 Apr 26 irinia
Agnes de Lods
When I was cold,
my surface was so predictable.
An icy land allowed me
to be alone, distant, safe.

One day, the sun came,
and changed my frame.

The warm wind melted everything.
I became defenseless saltwater.

Untamed tears,
chanting my past lives
hidden in the drops
of who I was
and what I longed to mean.

With time, the calm waters
turned clear and soothing.

The particles of light shimmered silently
in the fractured space,
being so gentle, like a healing touch
lost in the dark past.

Now, when a strong wind blows again,
I'm so afraid of my untamed waters.
I don’t want to hurt,
I don’t want to be hurt.

Without shape, without frame,
I’m so strong and fragile
in perfect duality,
like a fierce ocean seen in fulfilled light.
I hear this endless symphony
calling me to the definitive solution.
 Apr 26 irinia
K J McCarthy
To search with hope to regain
The seeking soul doesn't recognize
These vacant eyes peering back
From the distortions of lifes rippling waves
We must have dropped it somewhere
The pendant of our identity
Lost in the blur of the passing road
We lost ourselves somewhere along the way
We retrace our steps
Trying to recount the exact moment
We strayed from the safety of the course
The fork we faced
Forced a choice to be made
One of great importance
One we weren't ready to make
Little clue that our decisions
Would be life changing
We decided without considering
The obstacles we'd be facing
Though any choice is better than none
We still could have given this more thought
Any action is better than stagnation
But we rushed our development
And in our haste we forgot what was most important
We lost our reason, our purpose
Somewhere along the way
 Apr 25 irinia
Mira
Please
 Apr 25 irinia
Mira
The marks and
linings on my skin—
like bark
on a tree.

The roots are dry,
and the branches sigh in the wind—
the tree is tired

But there's still spikes of green,
decorating the withered branches,
and freckles of pink
begging to blossom.

And if I knew how you loved me so,
I'd let you carve our initials.
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