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 Jun 2017 Keith Lumapas
Isabelle
Old rugged jeans
I couldn't throw away
Because in it's tiny little pockets
I am keeping, the pieces
of broken dreams
and broken us
Old jeans, old us
 Jun 2017 Keith Lumapas
ryn
Aloof
 Jun 2017 Keith Lumapas
ryn
I'm several
steps back

I'm watching
from afar

I'm trying
to make sense

But I'm just grabbing
at raindrops
with open palms
I want to wash your hair with the night air
Soft light that does not burn
You can close your eyes again
My fingers are stars massaging the moon

I want to bathe your skin with light of day
Hot light to soften your pain
You can lay your head next to me
My fingers are reflections of a warm tide

I want to cool your pores with the forest air
A soft breeze rippling beads of sweat
You can watch the leaves fall all around
My fingers are trees dropping them on you

I want my heart to feel the love of yours
A whisper that only I can hear
You can let your blood mix with mine
My fingers will draw pictures with our color
I want you for an eternity; I have faith in you when no one else really does.
It’s because people don’t know you like I do.
You have revealed about yourself in front of me
I know that even if at times when you fall short, I will be there to help you out.
I do not fear the struggles of life. Whatever it takes, we are going to face the ordeals of life together.
#friendship
Poets, like
madmen and prophets,
are banned from
the Kingdom of Reason,
as they are
the progeny of the sun
(the sun who illumines as he blinds)
and the siblings
of the rays
who never tire
of beating
the world into
magnificent new shapes
that fascinate us
all – including
Unwavering Moon whose
lonesome secret is to be
madly in love
with the rainbow.

© LazharBouazzi, May 26, 216
 Nov 2015 Keith Lumapas
Y Rada
I buried him somewhere…
When I go to bed at night,
I checked the closet and he’s not there,
I tried under my bed and he’s not there.

Surely he’s dead for I buried him somewhere,
I am a woman now and not a frantic child,
It’s been a long while since I have not visited his grave,
Pray then, why must he appear now?

I tried hard to move on with life,
I persevered to love and accept myself,
I opened my heart to forgive my own,
My being is as wide as the skies.

I found solace in the plateau of my existence,
Why must he visit now?
Truly, I buried him somewhere,
And I swore he’ll never see me again.

He’s there trying to taunt and torture me,
He’s the one who mocks me,
He scoffs me when I search for happiness,
He laughs when I try beating myself.

Nightmares haunt me even at day,
He was the devil himself,
He, a vile and a disgusting man,
Who touched and fondled me in my innocent years.

He violated my freshness to rotten,
And it took me years to pick up the pieces,
Now that I’m almost whole I couldn’t understand,
Why must he resurrect in my dreams?

I am a woman and I still live,
Yet fear still envelopes my being,
I can never forgive and I will never forget,
But surely, I buried him somewhere…
Dedicated to the abused (sexually or other) females around the world
I always thought that you was heartless, emotionless, or at least that you hid it well.

I always saw you as someone sure of himself, someone who don't need nobody, a whole.

But, what if i was wrong?
What if you were even more broken than me?
What if your heart had burst into so many pieces that you can't find it anymore?

I wonder what happen to you to be that way now.
Who is the cause of that?
What she made to you?
O.P
 Oct 2015 Keith Lumapas
Y Rada
It is difficult to be a man,
For I am not a typical one.
It is hard for me to go on,
There’s a secret that pulls me.

I loathe when my memories strike,
They hit emotionally with might.
I struggle so much to survive,
In a world so deaf towards my cries.

I look at a He and my heart convulses,
For I recall a He who gave me kisses.
I was young, forced and naïve,
I fought but He was much stronger.

Society might tell that I’m gay,
For I let a man violated me in a way.
But I’m not a ***** and I’m sure,
I play a role for which others envy.

When I was a teen I met her,
I admired her even if she’s older.
I was then shy and very timid,
With mental and emotional scars.

I thought of her as a dear friend,
Then she turned to be my worst fiend.
One instance she forced herself on me,
And used things that hurt me so.

A girl’s tactics differ from the stronger ***,
Tears she used first and blackmail next.
She was cunning, sly and very clever,
She stole my pride and my dignity.

My fears now mixed with anger,
My determinations got bolder.
I still cry and sometimes get lonely,
Like any other victim I want to fight.

I can not shout to the whole nations,
For societies will scorn at my declamation.
Both sexes forgot that I have feelings too,
I am also made of flesh, bones and spirit.

I am not proud of what I become,
Within me clouding reasons try to calm.
My desire is to win this battle to the end,
I am capable of vulnerability like any human.

But where does my right begin?
This universe has compassion for women.
The likes of me are expected to be steel made,
Yet I have feelings too for I am just a man.
Dedicated to all abused males by other men and to the men abused by females. A simple shout out to the world that I care…that I have heard your cries… and that you are still loved.
 Oct 2015 Keith Lumapas
James
Anxiety, like fire,
Needs fuel,
We feed it with fear,
If only,
we can let it burn out.
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