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Yazad Tafti Dec 2018
my brain is reprogramming
short circuit on the mother board
this technician has got it sorted out
he never pulls the cord

i feel free with clarity occupying my mind
nothing on it but the perception of my demolished confine
i am a free man, i step away from judgement
the thoughts of others occupying my will to be content

the content they scroll
holy scrolls gave me a toll
i seek purity
what i seek has been here all along
eng jin Apr 2018
a familiar tune
breaking through the morning news
Oh yes,
it’s loy krathong

humming along the tune
ah, I should remember
to put a thanksgiving basket
onto the river
for the goddess of water

as the candles flow
may the light
in your heart
continues to glow
Kristaps Sep 2018
Broccoli in a white lamp shade
cast shadowy face tattoos
to mark the unjoustly.
The festival in background
is throbbing in directly contrasting sound, to the art nouveau it's sleeping with.

Each vegan burger stand vomits exquisite neon. However
the collage itself
is apologetically brown.
Theatre masks and DJs, VR and a Just Dance floor set,
a sprint before midnight, a sprint after discount ethanol;
so I gaze and perhaps ponder for a friend.

And yet when counting the heads,
I find I needn’t more than my own to hands
for the few middle-aged supermarket clerks
Leonardo Tonini Sep 2018
There was that director in the room and his film
on the screen. He had filmed clouds
nothing but clouds pushed by the wind
with their incomprehensible shapes
which sometimes looked like clear images
but they only seemed so and you needed
an imagination effort and
the ability to delude yourself to believe
that those clouds, which were not clouds
but only their images,
could mean anything than nothing.



C’era quel regista in sala e il suo film
sullo schermo. Aveva filmato le nuvole
niente altro che nuvole spinte dal vento
con le loro forme incomprensibili
che talvolta parevano figure note
ma lo parevano solamente e ci voleva
uno sforzo di immaginazione e  
la capacità di illudersi per credere
che quelle nuvole che non erano nuvole
ma solo l’immagine delle nuvole
volessero significare altro che niente.
Third poem for the Luton Festival. If you have any suggestions on the translation, let me know.
ConnectHook Sep 2018
That Chinese box
Your wares untasted
From whence arose
The lunar doom
Of my obsession.

Some oriental harmony
I never heard

Auspicious omen of prosperity
That passed me by
Like cloud shadow across moon
On a restless night
Long ago.

Your pale and autocratic beauty:
Moon over wall-gate in frontier
Long gone
Like life on a distant planet;
I am out of your orbit . . .

Still you circle
Serving others more worthy
Of your light.

I still love you, Mooncakes
Though I shall never taste you.
The Moon Over Wall Gate in Frontier:
Amanacer Sep 2018
Jazz in Monterey
What can I say?
The notes float to heaven
A stairway away

The full moon shone
Our mines excessively blown
The notes float to heaven
Where the angels moan

Baboom BaBoom BaBoom
The notes float to heaven
She will hear them soon

And God must weep
Tears of joy -- and keep
The notes that float to heaven
As she drifts gently to sleep
#MJF61 #jazz #ecstasy #nirvana
Leonardo Tonini Sep 2018
At the cinema they project a movie
And in that movie at a certain point it's raining
And it's a so realistic rain
That I pull the jacket on
Almost to protect myself
Even outside it's raining, or
Perhaps  not.
It's truth this rain that in a dream we dream
Even when it's raining outside?



Al cinema danno un film
e nel film a un certo punto piove
ed è una pioggia così realistica
che io mi tiro addosso il giubbino
quasi a proteggermi
anche fuori sta piovendo, o forse no.
E’ vera la pioggia che in un sogno sogniamo
anche quando fuori piove?
Second poem for the Luton Festival.
GraciexJones Sep 2018
Breathing in the air of **** and hash,
Absorbing the levity atmosphere,
The sun glares down upon us,
Covered in sweat and mud,
Floating through the sound waves,
A dissonance of sounds,
Feeling like a wolf in the night,
An unhinged lunatic howling,
Thriving for a sense of freedom,

Dancing to the heavy bass,
Feeling the vibration from the stage,
Moving my body to the rhythm,
Creating moves, stretching my body, leaping  
Twisting and turning with all my friends,
The bass drops and we pounce to the beat,
The crowd rouse and joyfully move their feet,
A glimpse of gracious placed upon everyone’s faces,
The moment is sweet and clear,
Wrapped up in a bubble of glee,
I never want to leave,

Adrenaline is pulsing through my body,
Amazed by the people I’m meeting,
Dazed by their oddity and individuality,
Hypnotize by their creativity and charm,
Eccentric personalities,
Majestic ensembles,
An honest conversation of TOxicity,
Of past stories twisted with our own memories,
Unique bonds moulding overnight,
A journey of finding one’s split soul,

Late morning belly laughter,
Bathed in a sweat of positivity,
Colliding with emotions of vulnerability,
Drum and Bass music still roaring at 4am,
Fleeting back and forth,
Slowly vanishing back to the camp site,
Reaching for the comfort of my tent,
I catch my breath and slip into in a state of serenity,
Echoes of squeals and laughter thunder in the background,
Sunlight radiating across my skin,
Warmth of content,
I slumber into a deep coma
Julian Delia Aug 2018
The fortress is the mind,
The esoteric experience is the key –
Remove the interference, amass the will to break free.
Your body is merely a shell,
A medium in which to dwell.
It is your soul that you must look for,
Stashed away behind that locked door
Which leads to your heart's dancefloor.

You will sift
Through years of conditioned thought -
A painful journey which is, nonetheless, a gift,
One that leads to greatness being wrought.
It doesn’t matter if you’re deeply distraught,
There’s always a source to elicit;
Seek it and relish it,
Speak through it and embellish it,
Be unique and cherish it.

You may find your soul
Hidden beneath a veneer of hate –
Be it reserved for yourself or others,
It is an **** twist of fate
When the fires of rage outlast logical reasons,
When we unshackle the cage and let out our suppressed demons.
Our connections to each other get severed;
We become nothing more than another failed romance,
Another love-sick storm that has been weathered.
We sob silently because of loneliness,
Succumbing to society, numb and emotionless.

Let go of the poisonous fruit of anger –
Do not dispense vengeance in every sentence.
Do not love others
If you do not fully intend to love yourself first.
We must be an oasis to the nomad,
Quenching each other’s thirst.

Before doing so,
Just make sure you always know:
To fill up another’s cup
One must have a full glass themselves.
I learnt a lot over the past 2 days.
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