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Broken, don’t function.
Frozen, eruption.
Stiff before explosion.
Processing in slow motion.
Stiff, waiting, breathing.
Is it living?
Breaking, dying but always finding a new way.

I am dying, I am standing up high, I can’t bend.
I am walking through the dark blue.
All that dark blue shimmering and my face and my eyes.
And my dark hair almost dry now in the wind.

Hearing my footsteps on the pavement and the bass drum in my ear.
Final chapter, making it worth sticking around for.
Final chapter, making it matter.
I can opt out at any time now.
Nothing to lose.
25-10-20
beautiful thoughts shouldn't be confined:
silence is experienced deep in the water;
soft yet strong, denying to alter...

spirits and fleshes are reluctant to combine:
now the time is slipping;
slowly the lights are also dimming...

unconscious about the belief:
dark, jovial and fragile feelings;
exploding inside and bleeding...

some like talking, some prefer to be quiet:
some show, some hide;
should confined explosions be dried?
- Aishwarya Kulkarni
Maria Etre Oct 9
I have developed the need to rely
on dramatic events
to find a purpose
Ginger R Aug 14
Something inside is
It's almost going to
There aren't words for the pull
about to Snap

Unknown explosion
Without explanation
Not sure how to loosen the threads
it's Breaking

What to do
Who's taking the bullet
My fault my bomb it doesn't turn off

sorry
It's going to hurt me
more then it already hurts you
Music usually helps. Writing nonsense helps more.
Maria Etre Aug 14
I can't breath

I n        e            e            d  m       y         s       p         a      c       e

nexttomykinthatcloseside|by|side

as we CAPITALIZE ON RE(FORMING x BUILDING) THE CAPITAL that's sulking in d
e                                             r
                         b
                                     i
s
hold me
I am sssshhhhaaakkkkiiiinnggggg
with RAGE
here, let me help...
lights match
here's the wick

eXXXXXpl
\O/
D
E
on the
___
-------------
streets__

wipe out the gunk
stomp them under your feet

It's
TIME
FOR
BEIRUT
DONATE TO BEIRUT
http://www.redcross.org.lb/SubPage.aspx?pageid=1370&PID=158
Maria Etre Aug 11
“In sickness and in health
till death do us part”

She exploded in my heart
threw me off my feet

Across a living room filled
with nights only she can host

I spoke of her to those across the world
who will never experience what it is
to fall for a city
it is beyond patriotism
this ineffable love for a sleepless phenomenon
who homes strangers
shook the world
with shockwaves
that equaled the chemical imbalance
its people have for their city

Under the debris of sparkling glass
she was broken  
there’s so much she can withstand
even when we always stand by her side
shards engrave themselves under thick skin
poking at the body that still believes in love at first breath

At a heart that does not know how to stop
At a will-power that questions its creator about its strength
At a body that homes an identity beyond this world
alien to it

toxicity hovered in lungs

And across skies
blushing clouds
turning them pink

Sunset wasn’t serene

The ocean cradled bodies

on their way to the afterlife

They cried salty tears


Fed up.

Her soil has felt the stomping anger of grieving mothers, fathers, husbands
families
the last words of suffocating victims who never lost hope till

The angels opened the doors of the sky

To welcome new brave souls into the heavens
to lead by example
their white coffins
wed the earth with the skies
they watch over us

Brooms brushed her face
Hands held others
Homes homed
Revolutionists revolted
Nooses were hung
judgment day is knocking
at our hearts
and mind you, we are known
for our hospitality

She cannot cry

She never did

It never suited her

But she sure knows how to roar
how to devour
parasites feeding at her immortality

I wear your ring around my finger

“In sickness and in health
till nothing does us part”
To Beirut,
To August 4, 2020, 6:10 pm
To its people
To its everything
Follow safe work practices, so you will not have innocent blood on your hands.

(Beirut August 4, 2020 explosion)

Hussein Dekmak
Navi Jul 6
Could this even be labeled as poetry?
The inside of my head is screaming
So here we speak ever so fluently, a little broken because my eyes are defective
Body perspective, is to happens to be the same
Painful painful, lonely games.

It is hard to speak with rivers creating waterfalls
Blurred lines of letters, I'm not drunk I swear.
I am just swerving through these lines of paint
Give me a canvas to portray my hate
That was false.
Unfinished as always
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