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The one handed thief ran out of the bank and jumped into the getaway car only to realize it was a four on the floor with stick shift .
 Sep 2016 Marium Iqbal
"I can't say," he said.
His whole body shaking.
"I can't. I uh. Oh, ****. Ah,"
while his teeth pulled out of their sockets.
His whole frame dissolving to pieces.
Eyes popping like squeezed grapes.

"Time," said some giant with his hand full of dust,
"is just slipping away," said his echo, as he clutched at what was lost.

"I'm sick of clichés," she said, after reading what he'd written.
"'I'm sorry,' he said, said he, before curling into a ball and weeping,"
which were the last words he ever said to her,
while hers to him were:
"I'm leaving."
I keep falling asleep in the middle of anxiety attacks only to dream of full-fledged panic.
 Sep 2016 Marium Iqbal
SE Reimer

we the people,
long have known
the write of
passages and poems,
whether bellwether,
envisionist or revisionist,
too oft have thought
this journey long,
and weight of hope and change
to another there belongs;
yet i subscribe
that we as scribes,
can right this ship,
not merely write it's wrongs;
for we it's pride
with hearts ascribe,
and note-by-note,
as carpenters and soldiers,
we its authors and its poets,
in words, in deeds,
writers, of a patriot’s song;
with deepest definition,
and inner soul reflection,
it's stanza, chorus, bridges,
we must lovingly inscribe.


*post script.

i know i am but one of many, who disillusioned, feel alienated, and could just as easily choose withdrawal as my reaction to our nation’s political plight. this then my belief, my plea, my hope we’ll see, withdrawal is not an option, that our words, deeds and even our writings carry weight, and bring with them hope and change to each community within which we each serve.  we are not merely writers of our history... we are authors of our destiny!  

if you are not an American, hope and pray for us, please, for we desperately need your support!!   if you are, pick up the pen... pick up the charge... be the change!!
anxiety is wet sand seeping
through a growing hole
in a sieve of positivity,
lasting like migrating birds
arriving to find snowfall,
a **** victim of hands bound
by unmet expectations
and spines realigning
to throats and throats
plugged with damp cement
and every time I speak
it dries a little bit more,
the english language is
written by children
and broken branches
carving into the back
of my throat with
no way out,
I’ve never viewed my
ribcage as prison bars
until now,
I’ve never been
locked out by my own walls
until now
and this sickness is breeding
vines all over any guard
I try to knock down, it’s not
contagious but it will wrap around
your heart like a drunk tattoo.
 Sep 2016 Marium Iqbal
Just Me R
It was beautiful and delicate
Precious and scented
I held it carefully in my hand
Its petals lifted and grand

This flower was mine
Simply devine
I would care for it forever
My ambition wasn't clever

For it was not to be
As it stated to decay
Became shriveled and old
Everyone told me to let it go

But to the end I must protect
Its integrity to respect
So in the ground I put to rest
My flower was the best

Till we meet again.
Mum my flower ❤
 Sep 2016 Marium Iqbal
Just Melz
Polished and refined,
With death I have found
A life below ground
A place I can call mine
Destruction and evil deeds
A breeding of pure hate
Is all that I can create
Out of all these heartless seeds

I punch them in
To the deep sullen dirt
Water them with vengeance
And a sprinkling of hurt
Tonight is the night
I find what dwells below
I don't have a key
But I can bargain with my soul
As I place it into these seeds
I am but reeds in the grass
I'm letting go
Only Heaven knows
The blackness of Hell's wrath

I plant my lifeless soul in this plot
To groom it as it grows
So slowly that nobody knows
It's the place the devil goes to rot
Watered with tears, warmed with fire
And as time stands still, never changing
This fruition of evil continues growing
Until the depths of hell can go no higher

Then it will bloom
A flowering gloom
Growing out of control
The ground will harden
In this here garden
Fertilized by my soul
 Sep 2016 Marium Iqbal
b e mccomb
i will not
go down
without a fight





will not

will not

will not

will not

i'm standing up
in front of my
demons to say

A ******* FIGHT.
Copyright 8/16/19 by B. E. McComb
 Sep 2016 Marium Iqbal
b e mccomb
(i don't want to die)

i'm stubborn
and mouthy
you could even
call me a *****

(i _ d _ o _ n _ t _ w _ a _ n _ t _ t _ o _ d _ i _ e)

i'm stubborn
and mouthy
you could even
call me a *****

and you know
what that means?

this **** ain't
ending easy.

because what gets
me in trouble is
what makes me
strong enough to

stay alive

(i __ d _ o _ n _ t __ w _ a _ n _ t __ t _ o __ d _ i _ e)


TO ******* DIE
Copyright 8/16/16 by B. E. McComb
From womb  to born
Every morn
Each breath
Even on the road of death
I’m alone
Walking with broken bone

While the Summer wind blows
In this narrow lane
Love flows in my wide vein
As the Streams of heavy rain
Alone else
Only the past tense

In the dark, I hark
A distant bark
In the dream there was
A beautiful park
With a few sign of paws
Yet I couldn’t find any cause

The Streams going down
While flowing in this old town
The Stone grew worn and torn
Rolling else alone
Like my broken bone
@Musfiq us shaleheen
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