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 Apr 2016 Joshua Haines
Torin
Tortured captain
The shadow learns of the queen
Angry says the road
Sorrow is the soil

Loving inner killing
Turning points
The river rolls strange
History's lucky ashes in the wind

Misunderstood unnoticed
Death shines on the seed
Stranger beneath the rose
A darkened crow the ultimate example

Expression rainbows
Black lines and edges
And in this stupid hour
Strangers recognize

The tortured captain
I wanna live with the cinnamon girl, I could be happy the rest of my life with the cinnamon girl
 Apr 2016 Joshua Haines
Payton
My heart is a beaten down shack,
Left in shambles
boards are splintering
A roof with a terrible leak
How can I sell it on the market
With all these exposed nails
With these wobbly floors
No new paint job can fix
My heart is a beaten down shack,
It has no curb appeal
No welcome mat waiting at your feet
My heart is a beaten down shack,
And yet, you look at it like it's home.
I wake to the news of another lynching
As our boys scream Bleed Blue
And over the border, the Green Girls rejoice
And somewhere in Jharkhand
Two families mourn the death of their men
Cattle traders? Terrorists? Muslim?
With cloth stuffed in their throats
And arms tied behind
Hatred showing in the mob mentality
Another dark blot on our secular fabric

And I watch a short film, India, India
Of a young boy on Tuesday selling ganeshas at a temple
Another image of the same boy on a Friday
Selling taweez and chanting Ya Ali
Outside Mumbai’s Haji Ali
And on Sunday, the same boy singing the praises
of the Lord outside a church, selling amulets
And I smile
This is the India I love, the different faiths
The acceptance, the co-existence

As the morning drones on, I watch and participate
In the endless debates on Facebook and Twitter
Of people posing, taking sides, sounding pedantic
While they sit comfortably in their homes
Sipping ginger tea made by an underage maid
While their Labrador retriever is taken for a walk
By their Nepali driver and the Muslim cook smokes a bidi
In the garden with the Bihari maali where their son plays

But what will happen to the sons of the lynched cattle traders?
What will happen to the brothers of the women *****?
What will happen to the mothers of the sons killed?
What will happen to the fathers of the unborn children
Killed for their mistake of being a girl child?
Is this the India we want to grow up in?
Is this the India we want to have children in?
Is this the India we want to grow old in?

Wake up, my country, it is still dawn
The road is long and far and we have miles to walk
Towards peace and freedom and love
Towards acceptance and equality and oneness
Get off that sofa and make a difference
Participate, vote, empower, create, enable
It’s up to you whether our country goes this way or that
So, wake up, my country, it is still dawn
Wake up, my country, it is still dawn
Tricky and sticky
hard to get out of
but easy to get ****** in

how do I tell the difference
are you love?

you are empty promises
you are the relationship with no labels
you are the late night getaways
the text messages I hide away

you are the heartbreak
you are what makes my knees shake
you make me tuck my morals away

as I dance among your lips
I feel the grip on my hip
my wrist held down tight
I blossom into the queen
of the night

Can't you see my body tremble?
Finding pleasure there
Finding love there
And my body
My heart remembers..
As I wait thirsty

Hungry for the next time
hungry for you

This is not love,
this is not what its like
this is not what I longed for every night
it's a trick but it feels right


It's a trick, right?
Slowly moving far far away, away form here

to run to the air to leave the strangest kind Summer

The weight of your problems tapping, sinking into you

the sweet air is leaving fast

I'd fly away if you saw me here


somebody, the one not paying attention

is bothering you

because they are missing it all
Slowly moving far far away, away form here

to run to the air to leave the strangest kind Summer

The weight of your problems tapping, sinking into you

the sweet air is leaving fast

I'd fly away if you saw me here


somebody, the one not paying attention

is bothering you
When  did everything change?
When did I become fuckable,
Not dateable?
When did I become a late nite visit,
But not a dinner date?
When did I become a "need company?" text,
But not the "let's go out" call?
When did I become a 2am text
And not a 2pm "how's your day" call?
When did I become that girl?

Not dateable
Not human
Not a person
Not a soul
But just a good time.

When?
Tears are for the weak, they said
Without knowing what lies beneath,
The scars and the shattered heart beats,
And the butterflies that live within.

They're the cowards,
That hide behind a smile,
Not knowing that the true strengths,
Lie within their exposed hearts.
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