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Ignatius Hosiana Jun 2016
When we start building Walls
Amidst neighbourhood woes
neighbours we encouraged to construct
their homestead close to our doors in assurance
of a strong shoulder on which to lean in times of adversity,
you definitely know the wines we call Wars
are brewing somewhere, walls are just a wine cellar
Divisions are the bottle to the wine seller
We once built bridges to unite the world
that peacefully lived as a divided entity
That's what happens in times of crisis
Some build walls to quarantine the endemic
while others choose to build more bridges
even if it means risking an entire generation
for we were once a world without boundaries
neighbourhood miseries were our miseries
their laugh was our laugh and their cry was our cry
We sung a single anthem in unison without a sigh...
always wait for drums of war to judge who is true
wait until then to know who honestly loves you
Henry the Navigator might carry the blame
but Britain spearheaded globalisation as a country
Now that we are here, ready to leap into her lap
she's closed doors,
Britain is for Brits, the rest of the world is for us All...
Leigh Marie Jun 2016
Your chameleon touch has made even the most familiar things remind me of you first
childhood days blanketed by you

The train tracks no longer mean days racing bikes but rather
A delayed arrival and you turning around just to wait with me and
Almost missing my train just to lay with you for another minute

I am not sure that this is how it ought to be
You taking jurisdiction over my memories because you're fickle and elusive and damaged and wonderful

train approaching
please stand behind the yellow line


I'm waiting; I hope you make it on time or
At least turn around again
Pauline Celerio Jun 2016
2:51 a.m.

In the dead of the night,
Is when you truly come alive.
You are a chance I'm willing to take
And it has been so long since I did.
May this split-second decision
Turn into wonderful memories.
So when we part again, maybe for life,
You'll be a happy memory in the dead of my night.

2:57 a.m.
Just can't help but feel the burning anticipation in my chest. And I can't sleep.
Leigh Marie Jun 2016
I have tried to write you a thousand times
But all I can muster is hello
I have held my pen in hand a hundred times
But all I can scribe is please
I have talked of you ten times
But all I can say is hope
I have waited for you one life time
And all I can think is finally
*Hello, my dear. Please take a chance with me, it only requires a little hope. We have our chance, finally.
Louise Ruen Jun 2016
Air comes out of her mouth in short, loud breaths.
Her palms are sweaty
Anticipation is in her eyes, as her mom reads the pages
The pages that were never meant for anybody to see,
But after writing them she realized that they had to be shown.
Because words are meant to be heard, read and said. Not just written.
If she had know, the pen would never had touched the paper
Now she brushes her hair behind her ear, as her mom finishes the last line with a heavy sigh.
"I don't understand," her mom says, and she realizes that they'll never understand.
That her kryptic codes are for her only to detangle, and all they'll ever do is guess.
All they'll ever do is worry, because what if something's wrong?
And something is wrong. Plenty of things are wrong, but not they things they have in mind.
Because they'll never understand.

So I just keep on fighting to be heard, with the pen as my greatest weapon, because I'm tired of this ****.
Kewayne Wadley May 2016
Without worry I sit and wonder
When the next batch will come.
Dough rolled out, stretched and pulled,
Broken into pieces and stuck in the oven. Without the confines of an cookie cutter; natural in every way. An free form of emotional bliss laid flat on the pan.
I patiently wait, green plate on the table waiting for the oven to preheat.
The dough rises becoming smaller.
I only hope you understand
How lovely it is to be near someone you love.
Without the concealment of air tight bags they are free, the cookies that bake in the oven soon to be placed on a plate, devoured.
Introduced to the seduction of crumbs that come together; sweet, delightful
Before it fully hardens.
Soft, delightful.
Skinny dipping in an pool of cookie dough.
An illusion of things whole until broken apart by lips in full desire.
Drenched in saliva of deep need
Simultaneously becoming an memory
As well as a part of smiling lips.
The mistletoe that hangs above the heart.
Waiting for another batch made by your hands
Andrea May 2016
if i sit on the fourth step of our staircase, i can look through the window and watch the street outside. this waiting game has always frustrated me; my knees buckle underneath me every time someone walks past our rust-encrusted gate. i can feel the anticipation weighing heavy on my chest with every glimpse of a shoe or a shirt only to have my nerves unravel once i realize they look absolutely nothing like you;

every stranger that walks by is just another soul that wasn't yours.

i use numbers as my ultimatums. this is the third person who has walked by that isn't you; two more, and i swear, i'll go back to my room and write and chat with other people and watch youtube videos and try not to think of you even though my fingers are itching to pull at my door **** (just one more look). i count ten vehicles that pass before stalking back in to my room, only to peek out of my door to check the streets again minutes later;

every jeepney that doesn't stop is just another car that you weren't in.

i welcome distractions that send me moving around the house. to wash the dishes, get my dad snacks, fake going to the bathroom, check on my brother, nibble on some leftovers in the refrigerator. as long as i have my little disturbances i feel like time's moving faster, but then i find myself pausing by my front door and wondering when you might come knocking or if you'll even come knocking at all;

every minute that you're not here is just another sixty seconds to spend thinking of you.
Breeze-Mist May 2016
Wind in my hair
I stretch my legs
Smell food in the air
count the lamppost pegs
a breezy, misty morning
boys playing ball
seagulls give storm warnings
we've got fourteen hours in all
play fights in the lot
before the night's coaches
the buffet's only got
moments before the crowd encroaches
only minutes before the breakfast buffet
and a tour of the city later today
Inspired by a recent trip to the windy city.
Jessie Taylor H Mar 2016
The anticipation is killing me,
Just tell me how he feels.
My heart is literally aching,
This pain is too unreal.
I feel my chest caving in,
I can't handle these insecurities.
I keep forgetting what I told myself,
Especially about all my priorities.

I thought I hid my heart away,
But somehow I found the key.
It's spinning over my head,
It won't stop teasing me.
Pointing in each direction,
Not showing me a clear path.
But I'm too scared to move,
And deal with the aftermath.

So I'll press pause on my heart,
We can talk another day.
And hopefully you'll tell me how you feel,
Before my feelings fade away.
2/26/2016
Joanne Lee Feb 2016
Sometimes I think I have a black abyss in my brain that memories fall through and rarely come back from.

One day I woke up with the feeling of excitement because,  although I couldn't  remember, something was going to happen that day. Something that I fell asleep thinking about the night before with anticipation. I went through the whole day ardently thinking about what it was but for the  life of me, I couldn't remember.

And then I realized it was ice cream.
I had bought a pint of Forbidden Chocolate ice cream the night before and I had stopped myself from eating the whole thing at 2 in the morning. I had told myself I would eat it for breakfast the next morning.

It was ice cream. Friendly's  Forbidden Chocolate ice cream to be exact. That was what kept me itching my brain all day fervently to remember. I almost wished  I hadn't remembered. I almost wished I could pretend it was something bigger, something better that I could look forward to for the rest of my day. Something I could look forward to for perhaps even the rest of my life.

Ice cream. It was just ice cream.
April 2014
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