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 Jan 2017 Jean Lin
Mona
Two streets away
I imagine myself walking
Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes

Waking up with the world
As its beauty is still pale
Not yet mixed with the car exhausts

Two streets away
Is the silver wavy water
As it tries to imitate the sky

Bike wheels floating above the roads
Runners racing the sun
Music spilling from that one headphone.

Two streets away
I imagine my blouse fighting the morning breeze
The benches filled with the flowers' happy tears

The streets hinting of awakening,
As the shy face of the peeking sun
Warms the hidden chilliness 

Simplicity is the key
Without man's rough hands
Everything is just being itself

***** feet,
Asleep on yesterday's damage
Not yet awake to indulge in more*

● ● ●
September 2014
Curtains are up and here I am
Facing the crowds on my knee
I smile when I'm dying inside
Then cry when no body see
I sang all my songs until I dropped
When my voice has silenced me
Everyone thought it was the end
I even believed and agreed
My theory in life is just doors
One door shuts and one is free
All my doors are closed now
So please God, accept my plea
© Copyright
Abdullah Ayyash
January 13th, 2017
I'm the victim of my own
          actions
                    when you say you love me

I'm the enemy of my own
          heart
                    when you try to hold me

I'm the phantom of my own
          reality
                    when you dream about me

I'm the closed door of my own
          life
                    when you try to free me

I'm the past of my own
          future
                    when you decide to leave me
© Copyright
Abdullah Ayyash
January 27th, 2017
My satchels are mismatched
Its deer doesn't laugh
No pencil sharpener ever

کیف های مدرسه ام لنگه به لنگه اند
گوزن اش نمی خندد
هیچوقت تراش نداشت
 Jan 2017 Jean Lin
Heliza Rose
The wind carries what is not rooted,
So be like the trees
Your leaves may sway but you will remain
 Jan 2017 Jean Lin
David Noonan
In the name of the Father,
the Son and the Holy Ghost
This Catholic education offered no hope
A religious nationalism their only concern
How righteous men must make our land
A nation once again we were foretold
They died in my name
died in my name

This is not now Nineteen Sixteen
Nor from the pages of your history text
This is now my weeping TV screen
A Saturday in a small market town
And twenty nine dead
Twelve kids and a mother pregnant with twins
Not done in my name
not in my name

Heroes don't just rise at Easter
But appear on a Saturday Night Live
Like a mystical phoenix from the flames
Like a newborn filled with indignant rage
Signing of another War
Of fighting the real enemy within
You sing in my name
sing in my name

Aged 25, twenty five years ago
They nailed you to an American cross
As you ripped up that page
Broke their silence, tore down their walls
Who would count the children you saved
If history could recognise heroism in this way
Yet it does in your name
it does in your name
sinead
 Jan 2017 Jean Lin
Morrison Leary
Upon every arrival of every celestial birth,
There is only one common normality.
A susceptibility to an infinitesimal design,
A kink in the chain, the war of our mind.
This psychosomatic condition is no stranger,
A rendition of life’s existence.
Confinement exacerbated by poor health in the gut line,
Hormonal imbalances manipulated by addictive influences.
Paradigms shifting in front of awakening eyes,
Psychedelic truths hidden within the tides of time,
Confusion and conflict preventing expansion of evolutionary consciousness,
A cyclic pattern, the sadness in all our lives.
This idea is immortal and internal in the human genome,
The greatest subterfuge,
Amnesia
Psychedelics are a key to a doorway that opens up endless possibilities.
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