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 Aug 2017 Jamil Massa
Luke Hester
There's a child on the corner, with a tear in her eye. She's missing her mother, we all miss someone who's died.

If we could bring back the ones we loved, we'd just break our hearts again. Is one life enough, or should we do it again?

The little girl is crying, she's letting out a moan. Her mother was dying, now she's all alone.

All she has is her friend, except he's make believe. He looks just like her father, except he wears his heart on his sleeve.

Her mothers last words were "do what you love, and love what you do". Then she gasped for air, and her face turned blue.

On cold nights, she thinks of her mother. And what she would've been. With her own mind she fights, to wipe the slate clean.
Not very good, written it in a few minutes.
 Aug 2017 Jamil Massa
Emma Cooper
I love the way you throw your hand out the window when you drive;
Careless and free,
feeling the rush of wind pass through the space between your fingers,
the earth’s breath kissing your knuckles.

I love the way you go barefoot when we walk through the woods.
People passing by throw strange glances your way,
and you tell them they’d understand,
if only they took their shoes off too.
They do not know the softness of pine needles under bare toes.
They have no connection with the ground under their feet,
it does not speak to them how it does to you.

I love the way you sing with your eyes closed,
focused on the sound of the drums, the sound of that ancient heartbeat.
The language sliding off your tongue a victorious cry
that we are still here, and we haven’t forgotten.
They may have tried to pry it from our lips,
but songs fly up from your lungs, like sparks from a fire
that is still burning strong.

I love the way you laugh, throwing your head back,
letting loose your joy into the air,
pollinating the space nearby with your hard-earned light.
The world may be a dark place,
but you cast that brilliance wherever you can,
and it gets a little brighter.

-Emma Cooper
 Aug 2017 Jamil Massa
Drunk poet
My people,
Deprive not your eyes of it's sight
That we see the flames, dancing on our huts
Like a stripper in a club night
For here we are, bleeding without a cut
.
Listen people!
That we may ear the roaring laugter
Of the big boys at our own handed damnation
For the shame is sweet and our tongue compromised
We are pathetic, yet, we call ourselves a nation
.
My people,
The seed we planted, has grown branches
The calamity we dreamt of has stopped by, to say "hello"
Corruption and his brothers seem to have come to stay
The big ones laugter grows more as we fight this flame with fire
.
Sons of a shoemaker,
Walking barefooted in the woods
May Heavens come to our rescue,
For our shadows has come to hunt us
And our herbalist has no clue how to make the  concoction to heal our insanity.
.
Balogun David Tolulope
{drunk poet}
©️2017
 Aug 2017 Jamil Massa
wordvango
She was a fast machine
She kept her motor clean
She was the best **** woman I had ever seen
She had the sightless eyes
Telling me no lies
Knockin' me out with those American thighs
Taking more than her share
Had me fighting for air
She told me to come but I was already there
'Cause the walls start shaking
The earth was quaking
My mind was aching
And we were making it and you

Shook me all night long
Yeah you shook me all night long

Working double time
On the seduction line
She was one of a kind, she's just mine all mine
Wanted no applause
Just another course
Made a meal out of me and came back for more
Had to cool me down
To take another round
Now I'm back in the ring to take another swing
'Cause the walls were shaking
The earth was quaking
My mind was aching
And we were making it and you

Shook me all night long
Yeah you shook me all night long

And knocked me out and then you
Shook me all night long
You had me shakin' and you
Shook me all night long
Yeah you shook me
Well you took me

You really took me and you
Shook me all night long
Ooooh you
Shook me all night long
Yeah, yeah, you
Shook me all night long
You really took me and you
Yeah you shook me, yeah you shook me
All night long
Shaking to **** in my suit and tie
Smoking cigarettes to make the time pass by
Hungover to hell in uncomfortable clothes
A job interview; yes it's one of those

I walk in shake hands, make eye contact
Tell them about myself, this and  that
Soon the awkward questions start
Beneath my ironed shirt I can feel my heart
               .            .            

Why do I put myself in these situations
It's not like I'm bothered about an occupation
Sitting smoking cigarettes and reading books
Noting down in rhyme my outlook
Keeps me happy more or less
No need for any of this trauma or stress
Money ? Sure I could do with more
But when I think about it, what for ?
I'd only start to drink to excess
And that's no route to happiness
Or the palace of wisdom, but I digress
And drugs turn your life into an unholy mess
So is it better if I don't try
Just sit and watch as life goes by
Making notes on it now and then
When I feel the urge to grasp my pen
Only too well I understand
The sorrows of a working man
If I don't work is it a life unspent?
And when it's gone, what had it meant ?
              
.             *.             *

So I shake their hands and take my leave
Wait for the phone call I'm supposed to receive
That is going to tell me how
I'll be spending my life from now
Tears of Saint Lawrence

The tears of Saint Lawrence fall by the hour
Fall from the cosmos as our good saint weeps
Silently for us through those smoky nights
When hope seems but a burning mockery

The tears of Saint Lawrence remind us of
Certain promises made in the long-ago
That all would be well, and rainbows and rain
And refreshing streams are all part of them

The tears of Saint Lawrence fall, gently fall
As if our dreams were being baptized too
Perseid Meteor Showers
I’d like to take you to this moment, it’s five in the afternoon and downtown Portland is quiet.

The sidewalks are cluttered with bodies silently moving,
sleepily dodging the sun
the sounds of sirens
doors slamming
cars braking for red lights
fill the lapses of time
I walk slowly through the crowd
reflections of sunlight jumping off tower windows
illuminating my elbow
three freckles on my forehead
my right knee
The space surrounding me smells strongly of burning tobacco
foods dipped in boiling oil
rich, dark coffee.


There’s a way my lungs jolted before and there’s way they do now.

The parachute of air running in and out
flexing like wings inside my chest.
How they used to flutter


how they once had a choreographed routine

                        designed around their sudden need jolt
                      
                                                  whenever they thought of being near lips


Now, in the shadows of concrete and plexiglass they remain following a newfound mundane routine
flapping their wings only to keep me upright
only to feed the world between my ears


I’d like you stand in this moment

                               wrap your fingers in the way loss pulls like a trigger

Wake you  up to the world where the towers finally fall
allow you to watch as they cascade towards you and feed each human instinct that follows, do you run?
Do you stand in fear?
I want you here in this moment alone
in your interpretation of a body

I want you to see the way I pull on you
the way I run from you
the way I stand
glued to the ground
as each wave washes over me

The way you came into my life anxious
the three seconds where the entire block is silent
and you can suddenly hear each and every single one of the vibrations your body makes
when no one is looking you in the eyes as they pass you by.

I don’t even know how bite into you
                                                          when you’re just the lapse in time

the five in the afternoon lull that manifests the slow
rhythmic pulsing of my heart
feeding only to keep me alive
the machine that clicks at every passing minute

                                                         I want you to crave the connection

the sounds of voices
the stem of a scream to grow inside your throat

                                                        let it consume you

the way it does me
a fear not of being alone, but never truly being seen
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