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 Sep 2017 Poet kiri
Seema
Laying on the floor
Gasping for air
Unable to reach the door
Nobody dared to care

A knife stabbed on my back
Bleeding, as I try to reach it
Crying in pain as I lack
The strength to drag up and sit

Tears flow flooding my face
You left me stranded, why?
Within a puzzled maze
Every end full of lies

If you had to leave me
Why treated me like your queen
You are blind, unable to see
My love for you, was not a sin

I feel awful, I feel lifeless
As if I am about to die
A feel of grave, so breathless
Believing now, you not my guy

I wish you stabbed me for real
So I don't feel this pain in my heart
Rather than swells of weal
Rather than being broken apart...


©sim
 Sep 2017 Poet kiri
Born
Am here
Maybe I was here
Writing you a sturdy poem
Screaming about something
Nothing
Sometimes
Am confused about religion
Religious thoughts, religion beings
That she hates
And I hate that she hates
But why does she hate
Ugh too much hate in gratification
and that pungent smell
Of love
Mostly "loved"
Coated in hypocrisy
Of belief and  change
but for a penny
Or a few dollars
and the perfect orator
For your hearts
For your minds.
For the sake of politics
I'll shred your soul
but only if you don't mind
him being gay
Or lame
Or late for my crucifixion
Of inauguration
That was acquired through
Illegalities of power
hungry
She said
I can't love a broke man
that feeds me more lines
on a monsters ink
that you've woven
and left in my bed
for me to fall in love
With your raw
Open heart
that keeps fighting
racism
and equal rights
for women
against elite tyrants
I sit and watch the walls
Of loneliness slowly closing in
Drawing in like a cold
Windy, rain-filled night
I can't ever remember feeling
So utterly alone
So completely adrift
From everything
And everybody
I think of all
The opportunities untaken
The abilities wasted
People shrugged off, blanked
Nonchalant
With all the flaming arrogance
Of one who thinks that
He is born lucky
Special
To whom the rules do​ not apply
The kind who thinks he will
Win the lottery
Without even buying a ticket

But I wasn't born lucky
And I'm not special
Failure hits me just as hard
As anyone else
And it keeps on hitting
I'm like the boy who cried wolf
I pushed people away
Not thinking that one day
They would take me at my word

And now it's like I'm on a ship
Condemned to drift
Upon a sea of nothingness
Unable to dock at any port
Whilst food and fresh water
Steadily run out
Holes appear in the sails
Water slowly seeps into the hull

I have to choose, either
A sad slow lingering starvation
Or swiftly and sadly
Walk the plank

I sit and pray
Up in the crow's nest
I keep watch and hope
Someone please calls
The coastguard
An old poem, but I think that it's a good one.
 Sep 2017 Poet kiri
Star BG
With breath of intention I move,
into a vortex of light.
The tunnel surrounds
in hues of red
to enhance energy field.
Moving into purple
I feel blessings enter my form.
Green carries me to visions
of blossoming flowers.
Yellow to sun energy
that holds me in grace.

With deep breath I move,
through portal into a spiraling blue light.
It tickles self to rise inside wholeness.

And as I am carried into a golden brown
light my consciously awakes fully
awakes as I’m
ready to return home
to my earth realm peaceful.
 Sep 2017 Poet kiri
Melissa S
Here in this place
There are
Eyes that read us
Words that hold us
Sadness that tugs at our heartstrings
Hearts pining for love
or just the loss of it...
Lovely and sometimes tragic visions
Displayed to heal our souls
Cleanse our thoughts
Take back control
Seductive musings that leave us tingling
Creative thoughts spilled out in delicious form
Memories (good or bad) that float around
and descend like the wind
This is where we offer ourselves to the world
Hoping for compassion and understanding
and in kind to return the favor
This is where we learn
That we are no longer alone
We leave small pieces of ourselves behind
To go back to one day
or
For others who are seeking to find
Here in this place
“We leave something of ourselves behind when we leave a place, we stay there, even though we go away. And there are things in us that we can find again only by going back there.”
― Pascal Mercier, Night Train to Lisbon
 Sep 2017 Poet kiri
Sally A Bayan
::::::::::::::::::::::::


Nary a frog croaks
terra cotta garden lamp
selfishly, glows dim.

a striped gastropod
stretched longer, out of its shell
braver....in the dark

neighbors' dogs howl deep,
gecko sings its night songs loud
bats crash...swoop their prey.....

unseen black cats cross
there's no wind, yet...leaves rustle
shadows multiply

the dark feeds the mind
superstition lives...it breathes
moon hides...........i shall, too...


Sally

copyright September 22, 2017
rrab
...it's like, my dead folks are still around when observing
    these superstitious beliefs...they had such great influence on us,
    we never forget....
 Sep 2017 Poet kiri
Sally A Bayan
(a cluster of 10W)


T'was on a stroll
one cold and windy
autumn morning
:::::

palettes of colors
emerged...felt like
straying to another realm
:::::

roaming,
reluctantly
stepping on
leaves of brown
orange, yellow ochre.
:::::

t'was pure
conscience
that gave voice,
made plaintive cries
heard.
:::::

"cruel feet, ended
my fractured existence
i'm silenced,
i'm powerless.
:::::

my
brittle body,
broke into pieces,
like shredded
paper dreams.
:::::
:::::

come, strong
gusty winds,
fly me
to soft moist beds.
:::::

o, set me free
let me rest
peacefully,
permanently,
undisturbed.
:::::

in my absence
new
life
emerges,
light
heralds
new existence."
:::::
:::::

sun...rain
night............day
birth...­...........death
the    earth    is
  round.


Sally

Copyright September 22, 2017
rrab
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