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 Dec 2018 Paul Hansford
Lora Lee
conquer me
with your words,
for I am a poet
     of soul
my mind as open
as my spread thighs
my lotus aching
to welcome
your sword of gold
Unsheathe.
Come close.

until there is no light
between us
for inside grows
a luminance,
             ever-burning
as sharp as ghost pepper
as soothing as
spilt milk
on petalsilk skin
as nourishing as
the stillness
of secret ponds
let us spin our tongues
into lava flowers
as we call forth courage
from the sunken
mists
   of
       time
you
you inflicted your broken problems onto me,
you should've known better than to cry on my shoulder
i was too young,
too innocent,
now breakdown in the middle of the night,

the way you did.
when I"m with my friends,
I'm loud and jumping off the walls.

like I'm on high.

but when they leave,
when its done.

there is nothing left.
nothing more than a silence.

nothing more than an after math of a high.
stick thin,

i want to be envied by girls
not the envious.

stick thin,

i want to see my ribs bulge out of my skin.

stick thin,

i want my wrist to be as small as 7 year olds.

stick thin,

i want to be as small as my self esteem.
 Nov 2018 Paul Hansford
Dani
Our lives are like living ivy, crawling with our growth of knowledge, growing with our experiences of storm and sunshine. We cling to the foundation of limitless direction, finding nothing but room to grow wherever we please, and finding that as life goes on, so do our branches and winding vines with leaves of new growth as we shed away the past; the growth of old now just a memory, the experiences of good and bad, lost or found hope in the fence we are twined in, or a tear of happiness as the last leaf falls to the ground.
Be proud of your ivy, the leaves that fall will leave an imprint forever, and the leaves to grow will flourish with every storm. When the sun shines bright soak up it's warmth and greatness, for you need it, you have to have it. When the sky rains down on you as hard as rocks, listen and watch. Even if your life seems troubled in the storm, your roots will drink from the left over water in the calm of the storm, and you will be stronger.
How green is our city? Is it bleak and bare?
Do open spaces exist; or are only buildings erected there?
And what is that stench? Is it the pollution in the air?  
And what if it is, do we in fact stop to care?

I once read that Bombay was called 'The city of Gold' -
And that there were gardens and open spaces manifold.
But I see no gardens nor strips of wastelands,
For flowers to grow so the city can look grand.
But instead the place is crowded with smoke.
How easy it is to turn the laws into a joke!

It is elsewhere; when global warming is the news,
It can't shock us enough, to stop us from the items we use .
There's a hole in the sky ... Is that of any consequence?
It's too far away for it to make any sense.

There should have been open spaces or trees lining up the roads,
But what we mostly see, is concrete or shanties in hoards!
I hear that it's the politicians' whim (?)
Myopic visions that are making our future dim.

But aren't we all in some way to blame?
For what has begotten this city to shame?
Can't anything be done to correct the flaws?
To discipline the people not to manipulate the laws?
Or do we have to wait for a court decree?
To allow us to co-exist peacefully?
To breathe fresh air and for better earth care?

Our city is decaying by the day   -
What can be done to prevent this dismay?
Surely if each one of us realizes his due
There won't be such an environment issue.
The air will be clean, the earth, more green
The benefits of these is for us to reap
It's easy if we maintain its regular upkeep!
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