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  May 2014 Steven Fortune
Zead
You feel so alone, the truth about life
A way to comprehend, the colors inside
Deceptions at hand, what's originally right
You got to be careful, it's a beautiful light
Reality is unknown, what everyone else knows
As if I ever knew, to me will never show
In His image, is what we are
Unimaginable thoughts, this may be of sin
The fall of man, no clarification
Free will is proven, within your boundaries
Beyond you see, even with the mainstream
You stream mainly what, you choose what it is
In what context, your mind is your limit
And free will is fake, your perception is wrong
Your feelings are gay, a fool is how one reads
How one understands, can none be there
Where i go, my own land
Alone we are, together we think
The lessons we learn, the styles we live
Yet we forget, as infinities twin
No more than zero, it's such a joke
To ask for us, below the core
Not for us, our being is just
The first poem I wrote. I was just writing my thoughts down and ended up in somewhat poetic form. And that is how I started getting into poetry. This poem is extremely personal. And precisely one of the most accurate scripts to ever describe how I felt at one point in my life.
  May 2014 Steven Fortune
Jack Taylor
Notice the way I change when you enter the room.
Notice the way you make my lips curl into a smile when you speak to me.
Notice the way your face reflects so handsomely in my brown eyes.
Notice the way my body shudders beneath your touch.
Notice the way I taste on your lips, lust and desire.
Notice the way that I can’t live without you.

Notice the way I change when you leave.
Notice the way I have no smiles left, only frowns.
Notice the way you can’t see a thing through my glassy eyes.
Notice the way that my hip bones poke through my tee shirt.
Notice the way my lips chap and bleed when you kiss me.
Notice the way that I’m dying without you.
A light touch
That leaves a trail
Down my spine

A sweet kiss
On my neck that
Brings me to life

An exchanged look
That ignites passion
In my soul

A sigh from your
Mouth that gives
Me air to breath

A whispered promise
That you'll never leave

All of those things and more
Always bring me back to you...

-E.T.
  May 2014 Steven Fortune
Molly Hughes
My throat hurts
from screaming silently
in crowded rooms,
and my face aches
from smiling
far too much.
But still
nobody hears
and still
people ask
"Why the long face?",
even though
I made extra sure
to laugh
at all the right moments.
How do I explain
that my heart
feels like it's trapped in a vice,
that my eyes are so very tired
from constantly blinking back oceans?
I can't.
One more smile,
that almost makes my cheeks
crack,
and an
"I'm fine"
will do
instead.
wandering
across
the splinters of
squandered
seasons
the Hajj
of the
lost ones
completes
a broken
circle

returning
with hope to
burrow back
into the safety
of desecrated
graveyards

welcomed
home to the
embrace of a
cadaverous cloak
and the kiss
of carrion
smudged lips,
Hajji's eye
the decrepit
visage of
criminal
depravity

germination
of this
Arab Spring
mocks us

aromas
of jasmine
elude us

emulsified
concrete
clogs our
nostrils

burning eyes
filled with
asbestos dust
form
grateful
blinders
to the
ruination
of reason
betrayed

arcane
remnants
of our life
lay inert
in the open
****** of
fractured
habitations

amidst
jumbled rubble
the decaying
carcasses of
razed buildings
boast grotesque
sculptures of
twisted rebar
cradling artifacts
of a past life

pink
hair curlers
splashed
with sickly
blood grown
mold

scavenged
bicycles
limp on
banished
parts

smashed
skulls of
dolls weep,
her
dismembered
limb reaches
for a lost child’s
nursing
hand

the charred
remains of a
Persian rug
maps the
scale
of a city’s
deconstruction
and a frayed
regions
disconsolation

electric luxury
flowing water
the friendly bustle
of the street
bespeak
expired memories
foretelling an
unimaginal future

sectarian strife
enforces  a communal
solitary confinement

in cold blood
we willingly
murdered
compassion

we
butchered
trust

we
euthanized
our
common
humanity

constructing
buildings is
easy

rebuilding
ourselves
impossible

Music Selection:
Segovia, Capricho Arabe

Oakland
5/13/14
jbm
please also see on Hello Poetry:
Homage to Homs
Leaving Homs
Maryam of Homs
Watching Homs
Wheres Rumi?
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