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It has many dimensions
It fights against convention
Expanding the human mind

These pages your canvas
Penned ink your paintbrush
Unlocking thoughts normally confined

Unsealing sealed sheepish emotions
Warming feelings icely frozen
Reasoning binded becomes unbound

Exploring words with wonder
Reality rationally ripped asunder
Winged words flying unconfined

Lying truths trutfully revealed
Untruths lying deceptively unsealed
Poetry palpable penchant undefined.
exploring the world of poetry
really opens ones third eye
the dimensions are endless
words unshackled not confined.
just like the concept of pie

* palpable - (of a feeling or atmosphere) so intense as to seem almost tangible.
* penchant - a strong or habitual liking for something or tendency to do something.
Those having faith in God,
Those praying with utmost sincerity,
Get blessings and love to face hardships without losing hope.
They see me wearing skirts and stilettos
living my life in falsetto
which they claim a false meadow
and all call out hell no.

They call me godless
when I crossdress
in this frost mess
of lost guests.

They call me a queen
just to be mean
I am what they deem
what they instantly gleam.

Some don’t like what’s different
so the townspeople pick up their pitchforks
they want to diminish my imprint
I guess that’s what they call me a ***** for.

They despise the flamboyant game
coming from my derelict frame
they ask if I feel no shame
I ask them the same.

Every time I’m on the verge
of a dirge
they swerve
from my verve.

While I walk on the air
they watch and they stare
envy ensnared
jealousy scared.

I see myself as ethereal
and try to be pure
they see a disease venereal
in need of a cure.

They say men mustn’t be feminine
even if it is genuine
and there’s a place they’ll send you in
to die with the men who sin.

They order me to mask my grin
and act masculine
but I never asked to win
so I bask in sin.

I search for connection
turning in the direction
of those interested in my *******
not my introspection.

They’re so ******
they’re so catty
they’re just wishing
for a daddy.

The lo-fi
don’t know why
I go cry
and don’t pry.

Excruciating wonders
tear me asunder
until all of my plunder
is a magnanimous blunder.

My throat gets a mite coarse
from the blight force
of their high horse
on my white porch.

My tonsil gets scratchy sore
once they freeze my core
and I sing no more
exiting the door.

I can’t speak
let alone sing
my body is weak
and so are my wings.

They want me in their baritone
narrow home
where sparrows go
to carol no.

I see the slinking bass
ruining this stinking place
engendering a sinking face
whenever I get a thinking taste.

There’s a sharp staccato
in the places I will not go
where the race of evil taught notes
lower than my shipwrecked boat.

I go underwater like the Maldives
silently we all scream
living in our small dreams
rooting for our ball teams.

Once they see I’ve drowned
they hand me back my crown
and tell me not to look so down
after I’ve been gagged and bound.

I respond to their monotony
noddingly
plotting the
same odyssey.

I adopt the stature
of Margaret Thatcher
I’m the student’s master
like a brimstone pastor.

Now I sing as low as I can go
and my flow is extra slow
because I could never grow
living my life in falsetto.
It seems I try and speak. No one hears as to the silence no response.
Hardly anyone notices my presence
As very few react in emotions or welcoming actions
My work and my lonely beating heart
Seem to be invisible and the beat of questioned empty rhythm is never heard
I’m here although a ghost
If I disappeared should it make a mark?
If I stay would I make a difference?
Or am I in another dimension?
As I am Alice
Trapped in Wonderland
Shouting through the tiny door’s key hole
At myself
Shouting “wake up.you need to wake up!”
As the waking hours become the quiet pergatory and my dreams are a horror rated
Movie played in loop while in wonderland.
Can I wake up to be seen?
My dog finds a conch nestled in the sand-
half dead, half alive- in the foaming tide,
She paws at its exposed pinkness
ignoring the hermit crab seeking shelter.

The conch shrivels beyond its lip
the scent of dead flowers pouring out,
my dog in a frenzy to taste its exotic flesh,
this beautiful creature sheltering in place.

Resisting the urge to pluck it from its shell
I pick it up and toss it beyond her scent,
beyond the fear, disease, the quarantine
I must always return to in silence.

As the shell sinks back to its home,
I now know everything dies in the sand.
Words' Worth May 19
Abstention nor rejection, the distinction of her heart
Soul or soulless, my flight shall take me wherever
Flesh or fleshless, my heart will know fervor
As I finally leave a broken heart and ride in the galloping oceans, I shall wait
In the jet black night my body aches in pain and rejecting-oblivion
Part 5
overwhelmed and breathless
but
in the way that makes you
tired of existing

until the realization
that i have not been
drowning
deep in the ocean

my feet are planted
in the sky
and it's only my head
under water
and
if i just keep walking

i'll be in the clouds
keep going, love. you can touch the stars.

05.18.2020
Jace Joesph May 16
Life shines light on everyone's imperfections,
  With hate spreading in all directions.
           It's all way too much madness,
But there's always been Beauty In Sadness.
Sasha Paulona May 16
Cold wind blow softly touching my cheeks...
Its the darkest night which can be cut into pieces..
fireflies create a missed starry night on earth....
I  walk through the stars.....
I hear voice of the night...

I hear whole world breathing...
some are sleeping crawled up in warm beds.....
but i can't miss this night...
People used to look up in the night....
but with full of fireflies and cold wind...
it always make me to stare at darkness

May, its a full of endings and beginnings
maybe its cold as December or 34*c degrees hot
its  May....people used to make fancy stories
that really happened in past
Revolutions, Religions, Uprisings ....
Everything started and ended in May.
I cannot say for sure what a beauty I feel this moment.
Night after heavy thunder storm
Faizel Farzee May 14
Corona virus, Corona Virus
Is it not by time that you leave us,
I can hear your mom calling, i think she's in a rush
as you walk past me to leave , please remember not to touch.
This sentiment is felt by everybody,
Our lives is in a clutch.

At the start it might have been a bit fun,
We getting to a point where from ourselves we want to run.
Thoughs becoming undone, i'm watching myself daily on a boring rerun.
If it was not for writing, i dont know what i would have done.
thank god i dont have a gun,
i'm not suicidal, just my brain have been idle
my thoughts starting to become a little dum.
i'll shoot at the stars, to the beat of insanity's drum.
I laugh crazily, squeezing the trigger like delicious plum.
feelings caught in a void, i must have searched my inner soul to much
they packed up, and angrily conveyed that they done.

Now from my feelings i'm shunned
sanity sitting in a corner arms over knees rocking,
a sound, sounds like a hum.
Its face look glum,
i cant blame him
to the madness we have succumb.
just some fun while im jotting thoughts
there is the funny side of life also
sometimes in the darkness to long i get caught
am i really crazy, the answer is deviding by zero
it comes to nought.
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