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 Jan 2013 Nuha Fariha
wandabitch
I hold my broken eyes in a dream
catchers song,
where statues fell and temples dwell
Parting kindness a kissing wand;

Where visions burned in closed eyelids
a mystery,
Lynched in a harpies call letting the walls fall
Freedom trapped on a sailor's tongue;

Hidden by the blind mans plea
for sympathy,
The fight was a draw
My heart is an empty hall;

Will I ever see the sun again?
Our hearts cry out, empty with despair,
While our robotic pockets whine in our ears.
We watch too much and do too little,
Where too brown stars live lives too fickle.
We say many things, but honesty is lost,
In this perilous climb to the very top.
We create less and waste more,
Begging and borrowing from other worlds.
We go to school to learn good things,
But the subjects winter taught are gone by spring.
We forget too often the good things in life,
So we create a fake one on a screen that's bright.
There are giants and mice in this great big place,
You are too small or too large and don't have a face.
The mask you wear is the only clothing
For the shameless body we are showing.
The machine of the city will stand so tall,
While the people alone slowly fall.

We focus ******* the goal,
Not caring how we score.

The journey doesn't matter and it drips deceit,
Our climb to the cold and golden throne-seat.

Upon our thrones we sit,
Growing fat and unfit.

We waste and wither and dwindle away,
While the sinew of our country crawls further astray.
let the storm soar
to the highest destination
the sky still stands above
let the waves roll
in its maddest fury
the fishes still have a place
"Run waves, run to the shore,
wash it off, swallow the land"
but remember beneath you lies the land
let the storm come against the boat,
but am in a boat that the storm knows

i have known and seen the storm
the storms of life
the storms life brings,
the storms that stand between us and our wants
the storm of No and rejection
but i remain calm like the fury of the storm
for what is see,
Is a storm in a tea cup.
 Jan 2013 Nuha Fariha
wandabitch
Hi
 Jan 2013 Nuha Fariha
wandabitch
Hi
I look around and am left hanging like a washed up college house,
In my present fix
There is no forward bound.
I want to write...
I want to fight...
Burn fresh fire in a darkened hearth,
Dream and inspire the laughs of tomorrow,
Old Hermes carried me well.

Does choice hang heavy in thought?
Will the heavens take back a star?

And when will courage meet destiny
In life?

Idiology takes my hand and cries
Much to vain with a scarlet smile.

Break a false name
And attach to missery in swing.

Take back the moon
I am zero gravity.
Idiot (ology)
 Jan 2013 Nuha Fariha
wandabitch
Like a heat with air puffed
Finished hunting can lay down my bow
To many birds,
Daddy.
 Jan 2013 Nuha Fariha
Tim Knight
And when we devour our fantasies,
love interests of reality will turn to misery:
nothing lovely will exists again,
nor any news worthy items upon CNN.

And we detach ourselves from all conversation,
listen to no new information:
brains will meld into unfathomable canyons
with sulphur red walls, fossils for companions.

But with elbows akin to mine,
(wrinkled and creased sheathes of skin)
our dance will be passionate and fine,
one more smile, another grin.
coffeeshoppoems.com/
 Jan 2013 Nuha Fariha
Chloe Keko
****** of laughter from the tv makes me wonder but as i view my eyes slowly glaze over

limbs sprawled across the plastic chairs heavy as they thud to the ground

apathetic as the dusted slipper skates across the floor

back to the screen constant movements of speaking

and laughter and feeling the rumbling inside but simply masking it

a tune plays in my ears and once again

the world blurs
 Jan 2013 Nuha Fariha
Ugo
Vivid visions of the past lurk me,
I’m walking on the avenues of once a quick man’s vision,
driving in car models a dead man thought
and voting with rights dead men and women fought—
for, we’re all living life through dead men’s visions—
books of laws and morals woven by dead men’s *****—
subconscious slaves to dead ways.
So ask me about “life” and I’ll reply,
*I’m still waiting to live like my master
for everyone that lives dies
but everyone that dies lives.
 Jan 2013 Nuha Fariha
Ugo
Skyscrapers and mango trees wearing boxer briefs.

The tantalizing wind blows caressing paperclips and mortuary signs—
turning them indigo red for we all know that dead bodies are nothing but dead.

Hymns of love and soliloquies of the unconscious ego—
Id of our time but men of the past be our hero.
Leaving to wonder, if king Nebuchadnezzar was a crack-feign
would Coca Cola still educate penguins on the importance of Lesbian Existence?

For in this war of life, cockroaches are the real winners,
and the taste of excellence is only reserved for fire extinguishers —

so if nuclear clouds persist,
let the fire burn with love and you lay on the bed of oblivion
cuddling the moral that capitalism leads to schizophrenia.

So insure your sanity for free 99, this, with warm regards from yours truly,

                                                               ­              Rhizome of Golgotha.
 Jan 2013 Nuha Fariha
wandabitch
how it has snowed on all the grey of my season's shade of mixed feelings of color,
as i age i see the page as my portal to reason
and clarity.

like a star ship in orbit nothing makes me fall,
dancing light in the night sky.

tear drop in a black eye.

what happens in that transmitted brain wave, like a zombie on the rage.

I crawl up from this cage of confusion. I am mistaken.

A dragon warrior with a smile.
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