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 Mar 2014 Manny
Brendan Thomas
All around me hopelessness
I try to climb out
It tries to pull me back down

Struggle,struggle pull pull
Almost out
I can see the light above

Almost out,CRASH!
Pulled back down
I start to think
What's the point
Why keep trying


The darkness overtakes me
It has won
I'm done trying
 Mar 2014 Manny
Sammy Whitelaw
nights like these when
I want to drown my sorrows
in copious amounts
of *****
but I also want to drown myself
in copious amounts
of you.

S.W.
 Mar 2014 Manny
Sally A Bayan
"...from dust thou art..."

It was one peaceful evening we were having,
ruined by a message; distasteful and disturbing,
a misunderstanding? no, never had been..
.but it had always been the easy way out...
it was an overflow of misunderstood courage...
someone  shouldn't have had the face,
but really had the chutzpah to reach out...
one that stood up to the last moment
to gird, to break, to wreck.....and won...
to be...to feel they belong,
this, could be allowed no longer...
this must...has got to stop...

here comes the CLOAK of non-acceptance,
it quickly spreads overhead,
but repugnance PERFORATES!

to be duped anew,
ah, brings back to life old hatred,
for those who think they know better,
but never again, to swim in bad blood...
feelings to be repeatedly exploited,
this, can no longer be allowed....
this...has got to stop...

ashes that were hidden,
ashes that were forbidden,
ashes i didn't feel like seeing
an urn of ashes i firmly refused to hold,
ashes i firmly refused to be anywhere near me.
and now, they suddenly ask,
where to take the forsaken urn?
they can just pollute the river
let the ashes flow with the current...
or, be indifferently blown by the wind
atop a mountain...
for God's sake, why not just buy a vault for the urn?
give the ashes the much-needed peace it longed for..
and let those who were once denied and deprived,
have their own share of much needed peace...

ashes may be carried away
by the sea or the wind---
but there's only one known place:
to the ground we all go,
cremated or otherwise...
so, why fuss on where the ashes should go?
"From dust thou art, and unto dust thou shalt return."


   Sally
Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan


Biblical quote, from Genesis 3:19*'
"Dust thou art, and unto dust thou shalt return."
(...what bad memories ashes could bring...)
 Mar 2014 Manny
pushthepulldoor
To write, to write.
Even to write this, tragedy
finds the difficulty to be impossible,
unending.
The crunching sound of its bones with
no cartilage is
at such an eerie, unnerving volume.
The shrill nervous laughter
encased in dry shallow sobbing is
crippling.
To mutter the words that may carry
sounds of joy are nearly inaudible.
Conversation with a "friend" is a forked road;
One to speak and tragedy will hear.
A lover of the mind, a scholar of the scar tissue
or a prophet of misfortunes grasp
is the only reality for this
dear tragedy.
To sleep or rest these worn out eyes that
cannot escape the horror never ceasing to follow them,
would be a euphoric sense of helping oneself...
Now to make the sleep last
an eternity or more.
© M.S.
 Mar 2014 Manny
Joseph Childress
By Joseph Childress

****** expressions
Are greater than words
But I
Want the liquid truth!

Lips don't only talk
They also kiss
Tears can be more deceptive
Than tongues
And yours is persuasive
The ability to sway
Opinions
From your salt water
Body of lies
Can form dead seas
And these scrolls
Wouldn't be here
Without this excess of ink

Shedding blood
Shows only a lack of control
And care
Shedding my own
Would only show
My lack of understanding

The thirst I have
Is for liquid truth
The friction we cause
When we tell it
Is more than enough fire
To make it pure
An artist has as usual
a too big soul
never a too big ego
the soul is very sensitive
different than the average artist
since this is about POETRY
then the soul of this Artist is soft and tender
for both gender
all the same
no, this is no game
why do you ask me each time the same?
the name of the game or the name of the play
I am just telling about the Artist's SOUL, if I may....




© Sylvia Frances Chan
Saturday 15th March 2014
17.11 hrs p.m. W.E.Time
Beautiful very Sunny weather, but in the evenings
the chills of the wintry hills are coming back
it isn't Spring yet!
 Mar 2014 Manny
Odi
You bathed me in a bath
Full of shards of broken glass
That glimmered and swam
So beautifully bright
"Not all beautiful things catch the light" you said
Such cynical views for a patient man
Such awful thoughts of blood once shed
"It doesn't mean they're not there."
Then you ran
ran
ran
Like the coward you were

I bathed you in roses
But forgot to take out the thorns
See my beauty wasn't intended
But neither was yours

"Sometimes the smallest things, can hit the hardest."
Another one of your wise saying's

No wonder you were guarded

Now I bathe him in feathers
And ashes
and death
But the dead don't speak from their coffins
And blood wasn't shed
From all the things that we said

Like our words could fix
what was broken somewhere else
You said that only paper clips
And broken strings

Could undo the damage
One does to *oneself
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