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the restless peace cries inside
calm but there is pain
who cares what is underneath
she is sipping on her tea
picture of normalcy
there is hidden trauma
it was missing the usual sugar
tasting the bitter
as her vision of the truth
her morning of clearing dust
touching the rust
and all what was hidden
beneath the carpet
came clear.
The false sense of security
vanished away
foolish to the fault
good awakening
to welcome the new resident misery
for expecting a good fantasy
in this fair world.
 Mar 2018 L Seagull
Eman
Home
 Mar 2018 L Seagull
Eman
Home is not the doorstep, not the porch, not the swing, it is not the ceiling and it is not a thing

Home is seeing your sisters empowered,
your parents at ease, your brothers relieved, your demons decieved

Home is a genuine smile, it is the authentic tears

Home is the magical word that can **** your fears

Home is a feeling embedded with layers of love, acceptance and peace
Home is a feeling.
Fear
So complete and so overwhelming;
Nothing else can be felt.

The room that surrounds me is too small
The white washed walls closing in
It is a cave from which I cannot see the mouth.
The darkness is engulfing me fast
The light is disappearing fast
It is a whirlwind of shadows and fading voices
The reality is blurring, in its place
A distorted nightmare stitches itself
Like black, thick treacle it slowly slides into my ear drum
A wild hyena laugh
It’s here.

The air is painfully thin.
Every withering gasp becomes shallower
My lungs are shrinking
They are red balloons
Punctured by sharp, shining needles
Deflating, they push out the oxygen
Drawing in the black charcoal
My chest feels so heavy
The smoke suddenly solidifying
I can’t breathe.

I am trapped.
Isolated and alone
My body a steel prison
I lie helplessly on its foreign, metallic floor
The cold cuts into me
My bones freezing over slowly,
I can’t move.

The ice is a barrier between me and the outside
Carving the figures into unfamiliar shapes
I do not know this place
I am a child lost in a funfair.
The world clumsily stumbles in front of me
A million joyous colours and noises bleeding together
Forming one screaming siren
It yells “PANIC, PANIC, PANIC”
A rhythmic repeating chant
Blaring and bright
I’m drowning in its wails.

My body jitters like an old wood coaster
Jerking, swaying under a heavy weight
I try to stop it but it is out of my control now
The cart has left the station

The hyena laugh again trickles into my ears
Growing louder and louder
It morphs into a crazed clowns cackle
Howling at my failed attempts
My palms start to shake,
They cling to my arms as I rock back and forth
Trying desperately to make it stop
Why won’t it stop?
Why won’t it end?

My heart starts to speed
Beating so fast, it hammers against my glass ribs
It is deafening.
Like footsteps pounding the pavement
Running crazily to try escape
Terrified of the monster cowering over its shoulder
Painted face, disguised, its screeches surround me.
I trip and fall, knees grazing and legs shaking
I cry like a little girl to her mother
“Make it stop”, I whimper.
The monster towers over me.

From aside me, an arm leans into my cave.
It whips off the monsters mask.
Nothing is there.
Adaption from a short story
this Democratic Party affiliated member i.e.
   considered (with an eye blink)
   positing the following blurb
   for a very short while

asper the "FAKE" trumpeting
   oaf fish shill offal
   continuous, indecorous,
   and poisonous barbs doth re vile

me, an anonymous middle aged
   concerned citizen at thee...reptile
no...no...that, would
   unfairly debase creatures such as
   snakes, lizards, turtles, or alligators, 

   whose aggressive acceptable modes, 
   one expects tubby non servile
thus in my mind hiss non diss incriminating
   cruel, fiendish, gallingly jawboning
   mawkish philistine (YES, I
   MEAN YOU DONALD Quisling TRUMP)

   figuratively roasting
   respectable people analogous
   to rake them over hot coals
   then, burn them at the stake,
   which witch trial characters assassination

   with point blank expletives
   found an introspective chap (yours truly)
   responds to broadcast
   unflattering sentiments,
   albeit swiftly tailored harried, yup,
   yar...obnoxious fulminations rile,

said brief explanation motive enough
   (occurred within a split second)
   after gleaning most recent denigrating,
   hurtful, lambasting puerile

verbal and/ or twittering outbursts
   (MOST DEFINITELY) unstatesmanlike
at least to me: a circumspect enlightened
   genteel individual kind nattering
nabob of nativity, who feels alarmed

   at venal wickedness by thee ->
   President Trump spluttering, smoldering,
   slandering gallimaufry
predicated predictable awfully banal,

   cringeworthy diurnal,
   and fiercely hurt locker ful invective bile
perhaps indicative of dementia praecox
   or smother mental illness,
   ye would immediately refute,
   and be in din aisle.
 Mar 2018 L Seagull
A'ishah
Brave
 Mar 2018 L Seagull
A'ishah
She was powerful,
not because she wasn't scared,
but because she went on strongly,
despite the fear.

~Aishah
People think being brave is when you aren't afraid, but its not you can be brave in different ways always remember that
 Mar 2018 L Seagull
z
wouldn’t it be nice if the world were so black and white
then we wouldn’t be riddled in grey mud
trying to figure out what is ultimately “right” or “wrong”
while knowing that (right or wrong) doesn’t exist
not really

our world is filled with
contradictions
lies and truths alike
deceits, some for the sake of loyalty

there is no simple “right” or “wrong”
everything is a little bit of both
whether one is more this than the other
depends on your storyteller, no?
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