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 Jul 2016 Maha Salman
Neex
He said to me with swollen eyes,
"Heaven is better than this,
  So if there is no purpose for my living,
  Why delay my rapture. I love you,
  But I'm only going to Hurt you if I stay."

A peck on my lips,
"Go, run home!"
And he ran,
I yelled and cried,
He ran and ran,
I stood, so scared,
With tears in my eyes,
Gun shots in the air.

No one could help him.
"It wouldn't be suicide,"
The words he said echoed in my head,
"I'm just going to be in the wrong place,
At the right time."

I ran and ran,
Cried and cried,
I couldn't watch,
It was a blood bath,
A riot.

I ran home,
Ran and ran;
But home was where he was,
And I didn't know where that was.

I cried and cried,
And in that moment I was certain,
*My soul had died.
I don't even know where this came from, but I feel it, the pain, the reality.
 Jul 2016 Maha Salman
Cellar D'or
You were killed at 7:31 a.m, July 6th 1915 at the Battle of the Somme
One minute after the execution of your regiment to charge towards
The furious glare of sunlight
The thunder of sentries
Firing bolts of metal
To crash, break and rip everyone around you
Trampling, clambering over each other
Bloodcurdling yells stopped by their choking
Stamped out by the whizzing hail of bullets
And no time to accept fate in the suicide mission
As your mind is punctured by the enemy
And fragments of your skull bristles the red hill
Splashed of your blood which pumped the heart
That cared for so many, now exposed as mortar fire
Shreds through your cavity and dismembers
The broken dreams and broken limbs
You once had.

You were remembered by the dwindling few
Of who you were back home, before the draft.
How many were killed, how little they know
That you truly died as you said your Goodbyes.
 Jul 2016 Maha Salman
Ris
My Tears
 Jul 2016 Maha Salman
Ris
If I'm crying, can I use your shoulder?
Or will you take my hand and show me
your collection of jars stored with
my years of tears?

Will you show me each year
and tell me the stories behind them?
Will we go through each tale to
I'm crying again?

Will you dry my wet eyes and tell me
you have no more room for my tears?
Will you delete my broken memories
to I have no need to cry again?
My first poem posted on here, I hope you like it!
 Jul 2016 Maha Salman
Surf Borden
INFECTION

Infecting loss, unlike any plague..
Like ressurection we rise each witching hour..
Twitching, pleading, and bleeding you beg..
As infection sets in.
To consume, and devour..
REAP IT..
 Jul 2016 Maha Salman
Helenina
...If I love you...

Feathers all fallen grey
I slowly learn to Fly
Again
This is how I am
This is who I am
My spirit clearly senses
Harboring delicate thoughts
Some things I often thought myself unable anymore
I burnt all the white sage
To purify the Energy
Let it go now Let it go away
All these somber silhouettes like dead crows
Around my head
Inside my heart
May they fly higher nevermind how it tears my soul apart
I will live on
They say if I love You
I love myself
Thus I learn to cherish my own Multiverses
Nevermind the misunderstanding
I know why it is so hard to love myself
This is how I came to the world
Maybe also parts of my previous incarnations
I have been taught again and again
About the precious release of Loving Kindness
When you kiss the depths of Forgiveness
You keep falling down the mountains
To the same grounds and dreary gardens
Because it's here
There is something to learn
There is something to burn
White sage
chanting chanting chanting
Shamanism healing
White Light coming from deeper inside me
Unlock my Spirit Now
If I love myself

I love You.

(inspired by Rumi's words)
Rumi inspiration, love, emotions, Truth,honesty,spirit, loving kindness,understanding,empathy,shamanism,positive energy
 Jul 2016 Maha Salman
Amalie Skov
Måske det bare er sådan han ser på piger i biler. Ligner nogle der har brug for at blive redet, ser ikke at *** er hendes egen superhelt. Hendes kryptonit, ikke hans hænder. Galaksen bag hans briller. Løftet der falder stille når solen står op og sengen er redt. *** falder kun når *** glemmer sin styrke, *** er månen og stjernerne og alt hvad han ønsker. *** tænker, måske det bare er sådan han kigger på piger i biler. Ser ikke engang at *** er den der kører.
Like a dark-blue angel I walk these streets asleep
Spilling water-thoughts for my sky-blue girlfriend
And with much ease splashing about a serious desire
To express the fluidity in my style of loving her

With her pale-white precious face of a place
Upon that space the moon introduced a sister-image
And in winter’s name with delicate snow-like fame
Dressed my lover’s hands in white cotton gloves
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The Poetry of Matthew Goff
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