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StoryTallinn Mar 29
Until the sun rise
I will be my own light
Until the cloud disappear
I will be my own sun

I have lost a battle
Not the war
Sorry but...
White flags do not belong in my backpack

Steps after steps
Miles after miles
This was not supposed to be a sprint
But a marathon
Christmas  trees
Stana Claus
Decorating
Presents
Food
Parties
Get-to-gethers

Busy
Rush
Maddness
Crowds
Panic

What  is it all for.?
Siyana  Aug 11
The Hustle
Siyana Aug 11
I'm panting, I'm waiting
hoping and praying
that my efforts will finally be paid..
I'm wishing and thinking
"please luck be efficient"
working my life away...
I enter the rink,
with one punch I drop to my knees
blood streaming down my nose,
but I've worked too hard to settle for the broke life..
I'm sick of rummaging the fridge to not be able to grant food,
my stomach loud and hungry,
but there's nothing I can do..
So I take this shot,
yearning for the best,
all I want is to live free of debt.
Not be able to know what it feels like for your rent to be late,
but to live comfortably without worried about money.....
Nat Lipstadt Dec 2015
Time: 7:30 pm
Temp.: 68F

~~~
overlooking the runways,
festooned by
accidental heavenly whimsy,
or humanistic whimsical inten-sity,
all the the planes and trucks are flashing
electrifying speckles, of eclectically synced
red and green

it is not my holiday,
but no matter,
like every New Yorker this day,
I am happily celebrating its
double U,
unique, unusual

"record breaking warmth"

yes, the Fahrenheit is outtasight, and by the dawn of
early eve~night,
the Centigrade is spiraling in reverse retrograde,
as the temp eases on down, just below seventy degrees,
on this dewinterized twenty fourth day of
December, two nought and fifteen

traffic is light, the terminal, an unbusy, slim shadow of itself,
the maddening crowds gone, now all are among
the dearly departed and either/or, the newly arrived

so composition of the observational, brings cheer and smiles to my faith,
(I mean my face),
the crowning quietude of clear skies, the absence of street smart
city  bustle and hustle,
the languid atmosphere at the gates,
(where seldom is heard an encouraging word)#
makes me reconsider the true meaning of
the au courant phraseology of this day

"record breaking warmth"

for there is indeed
a calm invisible warmth suffusing all tonite,
chests glowing from fireplaces within,
contentment chamber containers in both hearth and heart,
and I am thinking
miracle,
about all the human warmth
on this celebrated evening,
holy night

indeed,
it is breaking records of
recorded human fusion,
the united commonality of millions warming
his and her stories world-over,
that your personal poet is
warming to record
# but not tonight, as I am
unbelievably,
upgraded!
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