cold cement under my feet
contemplating a deep colorful galaxy
humming to myself the tune we love
you are not mine
as the breath within my lungs is not mine
I take you in, and then you are gone
we are worlds apart
a century between us as we embrace
the soft night air is our home
adrift on a sea of doubts
lovers and friends
and at last friends
the universe expands
and you float away from me

I smoke a cigarette
at 11:30 p.m
it is cold
even with your absence
I am alive in a world that is home to you
that is enough

MARK RIORDAN May 20

PRESIDENT TRUMP IS ON A TRIP
HE IS ON AIR FORCE ONE
HE IS VISITING THE ARAB STATES
TO SHOW THEM HOW IT IS DONE


WHILE HE IS GONE THE
WHITE HOUSE MICE WILL PLAY
INVESTIGATING  THE RUSSIAN SCANDAL
PLEASE DONALD DON'T STRAY


FOR WHEN YOU COME HOME
THE INVESTIGATION WILL HAVE STARTED
LETS HOPE IT DOSEN'T REVEAL INTRIGUE
OR YOUR PRESIDENCY WILL BE PARTED

THE TRUMP CHRONICLES AND THE TRUMP DIARIES A COLLECTION OF 100 POEMS ON PRESIDENT TRUMP AND HIS FIRST 100 DAYS A POEM A DAY. THE TRUMP CHRONICLES OUT SOON STAY TUNED.
Kee May 19

my feet are pounding the ground
but it feels like im flying
my heart is beating like drums
but i can't feel it at all
all i know is that im a few steps away from freedom
can my feet take me there?
maybe i can leap to it
i can't fail
i need this
i need to be free
i want my own air in my lungs
no, not want
need
i need
i need to be free

in economics class
mr. gardner is talking too much
Maria Etre May 16

The night air
prompted me
to act upon
my true inhibitions
versus
putting them to sleep
and oh the wonders
that the wishing
stars
foresaw

It once belonged to imagination
Science-fiction novels
Apocalyptic movies
Scary jokes,
Our worst nightmares.

It once was free for all,
No one being could claim
Property over the volatile
Substance.
No one being would dare,
Fearing the rise of horror
And rage.

New businesses for lingering
Problems.
Failure to succeed in taking care
Naturally resolves
In stakeholder’s revenue.
Air in a bottle.

Vitality from Canadian Rockies
160 breaths for 24 dollars.
Canned air to be taken
Tongue-in-cheek.

Aethaer from British countryside
103 dollars a jar.
“Environmental-political artwork”
Giving birth to absurdity.
Notions of “air farming”.

Companies cashing in
On pollution selling
Trendy fashionable designer
Pollution masks,
From 33 to 100 dollars
A piece.

Little or no benefits
On health for desperate
Populations, willing to pay
The price set on air,
To compensate.

Thick smog from factories
Invisible poisons from vehicle exhausts
Seven million people dying
From breathing
Smoke, gases and soot
Pumped into the atmosphere.
For profit.

“Our air is simply an experience that many within China and India will not get to experience,” Vitality Chief executive Moses Lam
Paul May 11
ari

knows the warm corrugations
of the iron roofed shed
by low branches and changing light
like some feline fruit ripe from rest.

marking cat time, he
inhales sleep as if it were air;
slumber, awake, slumber, awake,
slumber and deep slumber. awake.

sun and earth, move for him,
as for gods and hobos;
unhurried minds that drink
light into the belly of despair.

his purring ease, shed like seasons,
are testaments of peace
assuring me, at the kitchen widow,
that this and now is enough.

peace to all
Eric Johnson May 7

I’ve learned to hate the amber rays
shining from the streetlamps
The air that scares the birds away
and freezes all their branches
I wish that I could bear the breeze
or seize the glowing gaze
‘cause when the streetlamps finally fade,
all that’s left is gray.

Amber Curtis May 7

Earth eyes,
Green like the land
I want to travel,
Explore,
Discover

Fire hair
Red, orange
I want to feel you
Though I know
I will burn

Air trapped
Deep in my lungs
Have you noticed
I can't breath
when we touch

Water in your veins
Rich and pure,
I want to jump in
And forget
How to swim

Alan Crilley Apr 30

Dancing through the street,
on cold, light feet.
It's voice echoes through the hall,
bouncing from wall to wall
slowly creeping,
                           while you're sleeping
deep inside your soul.

It first felt like nothing but air,
but I'm sure you knew that it was there.
You try to run but it's too much work,
so you rest where the shadows lurk.

It has a darkened face,
it hides in this sort of place.
It's voice is that of a crow,
the longer it's there, the more it'll grow -
the more it grows,
                               the worse it gets..
until your soul is
                             gone.

mjad Apr 29

we are alone
among ourselves
screens and pages
people and places
billions and more
but we are alone
in the only world
we will ever know
that we treat
as though we own
but we do not
it cares for us
with air and light
its nature and might
is not ours
and we are alone
billions of stars
look down at us
I envy where they are
in the unknown

Thanks for all the positive feedback:)
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