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 Jan 2017 Mona
Hadrian Veska
It matters not
what one thinks of a wise man,
For he knows himself,
And can differentiate
Interpretation from reality.

The fool however,
Changes constantly.
Influenced by what others think of him,
He is not sure what he wants to be

Or who he truely is .


- Hadrian Veska
 Jan 2017 Mona
Michael Blonski
To witness the power of words
is to witness an exploding star
Dangerous and beautiful

Essential

Raining down elements
that collect like snow
to flow down streams
and to flow like time
build and destroy
barricades
That try to hold back waves
that we ride
 Jan 2017 Mona
giofuellos
The rainbow sky
Melts into a river
Flowing endlessly
Into the white edges of dawn
When the boatman halts
The ship that ferries
Departed souls
As he stared beyond
His lifeless eyes
Oblivious of the void
Sensing a strange figure
Walking on the hazy shore
With watchful eyes
Zooming into his world
He laughs then sings
As the irony slowly creeps
Outside the frame
Where one lives
And the other dies
In a lonely dream
 Jan 2017 Mona
Mr Himel
Once upon a time
Coca Cola, Sprite & Fanta had a fight
They fought over who is the best among them
They fought for hours but couldn't agree
Then they finally decided to find someone neutral

After searching whole day
They finally found a man laying on the ground
He was so thirsty, that he could hardly move
They asked him to have a sip of their soft drink
He took sips from all three cold drinks one by one

After all he was so thirsty
When they asked him which was the best
He said doesn't matter they all relieve my thirst
Then they realize they are all doing the same job
It is just the difference of color, flavor and taste
I wrote this about racism
 Jan 2017 Mona
john p green
Fast-forward past scowling, rhyme-mangled crowds.
Waiting for release anyplace a lollipop taste rewards ill deeds.
Seeping disease disguised as sliced ease.

Flash back, rapper intact resting full speed.
Anxiety's scent devours uninvited social shock.
Pausing between hidden eaves.
I
I am smoke from a discarded cigarette.
I am a dogeared page in an obscure novel.
I am rain on the ocean.

I want to be a sunbeam dancing in a glass of pink lemonade.
I want to be a tall pine's love whisper to the silvery moon.
I want to be a baby's first smile.

I am the dark side of the moon.
I am a blank cartridge.
I am a penny on a train track, waiting.

I want to be yeast bread rising in a warm place.
I want to be newly poured concrete growing firm.
I want to be a toddler's prayer.

I am a schoolyard after recess.
I am a Saturday matinee.
I am mist dying in the mourning sun.
                    
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