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 Jun 2018 rexitals
Blyn
Ideation
 Jun 2018 rexitals
Blyn
Lying
Is easier without eye contact.
In a text message,
You can say anything,
And they'll never know.

Yes, I read your letter,
No, I haven't cut recently,
Yes, I'm taking my meds,
No, I'm not thinking about killing myself.

They like to hear that last one.
No, I'm not thinking about killing myself.
But it's never the truth.
I am always thinking about killing myself.
Not like I'm thinking about going to work tomorrow,
But like I think that I could be a mermaid.
Sure, I'm probably not going to be a mermaid,
But it sounds like a nice escape sometimes, doesn't it?
 Jun 2018 rexitals
Sally A Bayan
No one else, but a poet...can bring colors
to scenes...with verses, in crass or subtle
tones......gather words together in lines,
uncertain in their ebbing and flowing...
the results create surprise in many
hues that could make one cry,
grimace......frown......or smile

readers are led to far, or near
destinations...to the cool, sweet air
and peaceful atmosphere of paradise,  
or, to unlit corners...uncharted waters,
or deep into an abyss...or, a black hole,
an unknown corner, where moribund souls
are biding their time, maybe, they could
now define by themselves, purgatory and hell,
understand those sunken souls who have lost
all...except their arms, and begging eyes...
then, through appropriate words,
a poet paints a laborious path, or
a stairway...so an enlightened reader
may climb back to safe, calm waters...

a poet makes the mind see a human heart,
beating in many rhythms...throbbing,
.......aflame with longing and desire,
bursting from ecstatic, sublime moments,
then, later on,  shift to grayish thoughts
that cut deep....tormenting...crashing,
............gnashing the heart...
a poet paints a soul walking on cloud nine,
later, to dip feet in celebrative pools.

sometimes, a poet would rather not, yet,
an inner force prevails, thereby paints a
drooping soul...dying, in total surrender,
ready to fall..............but, again, with a
barrel of lively-colored words,  a poet
takes this despondent soul to berth,
with soothing verses, bring it to a rebirth...
every human being is worth an effort
..............even those that have fallen
.........................are worth savin' .....

a poet's palette is uniquely
enriched with colorful experiences,
a poet paints life in its truest colors,
..........could be dark...or bright
.....nothing more......nothing less...





Sally

© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
    January 29, 2017
 Jun 2018 rexitals
Nobody
Everyone who's ever loved me
has abandoned me one way or another
and soon left me alone, drowning
in my own little sea of shame
and with no one there to save me
I became tired of playing games
where I'm the one left wanting
left desiring
left...

And when you speak my name
all that will come out of your mouth
is shame.

I tried to be everything they wanted me to be,
see I gave it my all, now it's falling apart
and in my head I simply long to be free
What is free anyway? See?
See?
See...

I've never known,
Never had enough to lose to care,
and never cared enough to lose what I had,
now it's really enough,

Enough..
Enough...
Enough....

Please,
Please take me away

On your tiny little raft floating at sea.
Untie the rope from the dock and let it drift
and carry me with the winds, and when I land
in lands so far away from myself that I can no longer
find a mirror or thing that evokes a memory,
Maybe I can finally say, I'm free,

Hey, hey, hey hey hey!

I'm finally gonna be free...
the smell before it rains and the taste of that first sip of tea in -20 degrees

the slow untangling of your thoughts with every beat of the drum, the way the wind blows right through you just enough to move you forward and never enough to blow you down

the sound of typing fingers when you know you're onto something good, the feeling of your own, and finally not his, skin

the seasons are changing and baby so are you / six senses are helping you develop into someone new
enjoy the little things, because those tend to leave the quickest
 May 2018 rexitals
Her
Immortal
 May 2018 rexitals
Her
the moment a poet
falls in love with you

is the moment
you live

f o r e v e r
 May 2018 rexitals
Ricotta
blue
 May 2018 rexitals
Ricotta
I
am
healing
but I don't want you to take off your shoes in my home yet

I
am
healing
but I'm still afraid of your touch

I
am
healing
but while I'm healing, you're burning like a broken electric wire, and while you burn you bloom

so yes, I am healing
slowly
trembling
feeling numb
but healing

— The End —