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Kitten Yvad Oct 2020
I cried in a cafe
over the summer

Atop a sheet of music
my tears blurred
the digital bars on the screen

Yes Suz I've told him
&i  swear I still love him
you think maybe he doesn't believe me?

Love, you gave me
your note book, you call me
sweet things help me with
Sheetmusic reading

When im with him
I only think of you
Multilove my heart is
split in two
tell me tell me how it
feels so whole???

Your piano fingers,
you cup My face,
im dying to say your name

you teach me to spell
it with notes
I tell you I love him

Your smile, I see your eyes
you are so pure, my love,I'm afraid
I'm going to hell

If I told you I love you
You'd never believe me
All the love im living im breathing
Minor harmonic, my heart a
diminished third

You hold me, Habibi
and tell me you're sorry
your fear wasn't for me

I've only been soft

Atop a sheet of music
my tears blurred
the digital bars
"multilove" made me cry in the cafe like I was divorcing my partner of 20 years and parent of my children. When really I just loved two people of different genders at once, and equally. Can you even imagine falling into despair over how good it feels to be in love? To be in more love.  When nothing's wrong.. there's only love. And feel like you don't deserve to feel it all.
Juice Cielto Jun 2020
We are just small fragments,
Stitched, glued and burned together,
Life is just a series of moments,
A mosaic of pain and pleasure.

Rest in peace,
While we rest in pieces.

You move into the light,
While the heaviness has us bound,
We can try to make light,
But our faces are pressed into the ground.

Rest in peace,
While we rest in pieces.

How do we move forward while taking a stand?
What is my life without you in it?
How can we let go and still hold hands?
Is the answer supposed to be a secret?

The dead rest in peace,
While we pick up the pieces.

We will create our mosaics with fire and tears,
We will make all the pieces fit.
Your death caught us unawares,
The grief is just hard to admit.
Anthony Pierre Nov 2019
One thousand six hundred and sixty six
none: a salesman, a noble, or a cook
Macabre swam the sea of ****** Bay
In a fleet, the Dutch, French and Britsh he took

A crimson tide soaked the sand to a stain
Great reefs, he made, floating stench of maim
The more Macabre swam for lust of pain
More life, to the vast ocean floor, he claim

Now, three hundred and twenty three years on
Under a full moon in the depth of night
He, Macabre, still swims a ****** Bay
In search of an undaunted soul to fight.
A Personification of Macabre
Neuvalence Jan 2019
The sands were still—home silent trees
The day was calm—our lives at ease
We rattled no more than passing breeze
As we sang the ocean's frequencies

Time had passed and we rode the waves
Ventured far out—lost track of days
We swam through nights and their gentle haze
And we came to rest at each other's gaze
Àŧùl Sep 2018
Where's your pet Sparrow?
Did Edward Teach teach you?
Did you learn sailing from him?
Will you be a Blackbeard too?
Or would you rather not be?
My HP Poem #1719
©Atul Kaushal
Gary Brocks Aug 2018
Goats eat and **** the grass of ramparts,
stupefied cannons sit, garrisoned sentries
primed for nights of buccaneers,
seared by centuries of sun. Down shadowed
cobblestoned tunnels fortified shutters
covet rifle forend and barrel,

wresting rumored slave rebellions
from the locker of history,
while languid waves whisper indifferently
a roll call of human cargo,
chattel displaced, cast to the sea.

Here history sways to sounds
of brown skinned children
at play in breakers,
laughing, shrieking, thrashing,
buoyed by time to this vaulted brick
reverberating chamber,

here a window’s light is cast
beckoning vision past the beach,
to seek the horizon Icarus like,
to fly towards beauty in terror where
an azure sky conjoins a turquoise bay.

Copyright © 2003 Gary Brocks
Gary Brocks Aug 2018
He wrote of the light of the world,
a testament, a lamp to illuminate
the place from which he came —

    I saw his lighthouse coalesce
    out of the cloaking mist, its blade
    shearing the sheath of darkness.

    I inhaled the dusk bloom scent
    - Four O’Clock Flower, Poinsettia, Frangipani -
    beguiled by a road, undeterred
    by calls in the night, the rain, the unknown way.

    I sang with one thousand night-drunk tree frogs
    proclaiming an equatorial cycle to the stars,
    choristers intoning a chant of existence.

    I rode balanced between
    the cycling engine's torque and the
    reflective cast of my foreign skin.

    I felt the grip of ignominy constrict the stir
    of my drink, amongst hands toasting
    the crush of entitlement’s bearing.

    I walked where people dwell, and stop
    to greet and tell news of the market
    or of their nets, bearing the sea’s returns.

    I tasted the song in his speech,
    a seasoned stew, unshackling the tongue,
    to ring like the steel in a drum —

a tapestry unfurled: a world
paced by sirens of wind and wave,
embroidered on the earthbound side
of heaven's abiding blanket.

Copyright © 2017 Gary Brocks
Gemini Aug 2018
I met a boy –
in the middle of the ocean, with no prenotions.

Eyes soft as the waves –
rocking us down our way, smooth sailing my way.

I knew it wouldn’t turn into something bigger –
than a summer crush, a summer fling.

We were just living in the moment –
living young, wild, and free.

Out on the Caribbean –
where the sun shines brighter than I’ve ever seen –

I shared a kiss under the stars,
with a stranger, only at 17.

Didn't matter how many stories we told
bout the lives we lived back on the shore,

We were just basking in our short-lived loving –
lost on the ocean, my storybook romance –

I’ll forget your name, I'm sure you’ll forget mine,
but I won’t forget your face or our time.

No strings attached is a little too extreme…

It was just innocent lovin’ on the seven seas.
He had the most beautiful eyes, I swear...
060 Mar 2018
Pearly white against a black backdrop.
Glossy cars on broken tar.
You're laughing away, children at play.
You wish your rent costed as little as your drink.

But you're still

As the big man files out a grand,
You drop a bills underhand.
Your hype phone rings
Your mother is calling.
Saying that if you're done pretending
Look around at what you should be mending.
sunprincess Mar 2018
Mermaids and pirates
Spending this night together,
A hot starry night
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