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In the grey fogs of the cities -
Like mushrooms in the moist,
There grow beggars in the corners,
"Just a penny, sir!" - voiced.


You may find them in any genre;
Old men next to a jar,
Sad blokes without roof nor goods,
Lads playing a guitar.


All they want is only a coin-
Giving them needs morals;
Only God knows, you may be there,
Begging with them for alms.


                       ---


Every time, I bypass by one,
My throat knots in a ball;
I feel an urge to seek coppers,
Always giving them all.


However, once it happened that-
I ran out of changes,
When an old gypsy woman was
Looking for my wages.


She blocked the entry of the shop:
"A coin, may God bless you!";
I excused: Now, I'm short of posh
While trying to get through.


                       ---


She grabbed my arm and hugged my waist:
"My dear, my kids need food!"
Get out of my way, you witch! - thought,
"Witch?! You'll pay for b'ing rude!"


I was shocked: What, she read my mind?!
She spat between my eyes,
Hugged me harder than a python-
While murmuring weird rhymes.


"Pale face - hard heart, now you will pay,
Pale heart - hard face, you'll own!"
I fear'd if there were watching crowds,
But none, I've seen none, none.


                       ---


The witch's gone as if never been,
Leaving my eyes in pain;
Taking my sight away, to say:
Oh my God! Am I sane?!


No doctor could cure my blindness:
"Nah, you must pretend it."
Then, a charlatan informed me:
"You're cursed, I'm sure of it".


Knowing being cursed let me sick;
"You'll need her to be cleansed",
But how to find her in Paris?
Been blinded and uneased.


                       ---


I digged through the darkest quarters,
Meeting gypsy kings and hags;
Though, they were all laughing at me:
"A witch-beldam who begs?!"


My dispair led me to the shop:
Maybe, I'll find her here;
Time has strained my face and my heart,
Begging there year to year.


"All I want is only a coin-
Giving me needs morals;
Only God knows, you may be here,
Begging with me for alms."
Published in Constantine the Bridge Poem Collection.

Written in 2017, Oktober 11, Algeria.
Trefild Sep 15
‣ u're free to read it or not to read; I don't really give a ****t, but
‣ if u're gonna go for it, then be ready for a wee bit of text flood
‣ letting out some pieces of mine (what?); never mind, I just wanna rhyme
‣ I don't remember it, but once upon a time, I'd been through hell & almost died
‣ (an accident, not an attempt of suicide)
‣ maybe on my way from being alive happened something like "access denied"
‣ or maybe mighty Grim Reaper, when met me, was like:
‣ "it's too early for u, kid, & u don't deserve it, so u have to survive"
‣ cracking fricking jokes about once being on the edge of kicking the bucket
‣ like it's something to laugh at
‣ I'm not the only one of such kind, am I❓
‣ should be grateful for my deliverance, should appreciate & enjoy the life
‣ but it seems that such an experience is not enough for me to do so, don't know why
‣ guess there is something wrong with my—
‣ yet I'm not ready to die, no way, hope my last days are extremely far from nigh
‣ but I'm haunted by the thought that I'm running out of time
‣ ain't wanna know my fate but would like to know that date
‣ if u're now like "oh boy, just stop", then I'm like "shut the hell up & do not interrupt"
‣ I just have some bars & don't see any better option to do with them than to drop
‣ even though they're not bombs (for them go listen to Em) & never gonna reach any top
‣ 'cause how the **** are they supposed to do that if they're not on a track?
‣ why don't I make one?
‣ well, let's say, in terms of cooking music, I'm like a rookie, first time using a gun
‣ (but not gonna lie, I haven't even tried)
‣ can't speak well enough due to the lack of language proficiency, let alone rap
‣ a walking flop, a hell of a *****-up, too wack — a verbal self-attack
‣ like balloons that might pop, I might snap
‣ outcomes are not like the Thanos ones
‣ which are worldwide unforgettable, yet might be regrettable
‣ not moving forward, keep looking back
‣ slowly but surely, I'm fading, having no **** idea what is a spark
‣ think my inner light is waning, & I'm sinking into the dark
‣ what is kind of ironic, given that one of the colors I find pleasing to the eye is black (laconic as ****)
‣ keep spending most of my time within the walls
‣ 'cause [M]y way of livin[G] got me into a vault, it's an isolation road
‣ hate to say it, but I'm a lost cause, at least I thin[K] so
‣ I'm off track, no doubt
‣ but don't even think about wishing me luck, it's one of the things I'm sceptical about
‣ let me think if there is something else to say
‣ guess there is no need to mention that I'm not okay
‣ yet I'm not loco (at least I hope so), but I'm a sleepwalker (rarely, but still)
‣ not the best self-review, but I have some good attributes too
‣ being not far over 18, I'm sober & clean (have always been)
‣ don't care what u think about that & what u're about to think
‣ but I think that sobriety is quite a thing to be proud of in 2019
‣ geez, in reality, my ears haven't even heard how glasses clink
‣ when it comes to "cheers", only when it was on screen
‣ yeah, I rebuke consuming smoking ****t, drugs & *****
‣ 'cause it contributes nothing good
‣ if u have something against my attitude, views or opinion
‣ bear in mind a raised ******* & stick a pole in ur rear end
‣ happened to think there is something wrong with u? u're not the only one, don't worry
‣ 'cause there is the whole messed up world, a lot of fun to not feel bored, just explore it
‣ woman-beating, "KKK" & other racists
‣ human- & animal-eating, last years' mass shootings in USA, rapists
‣ I might be in decline, but at least not out of my mind; I'm just out of this world
‣ don't even have a ******* smartphone that some harebrained girl wants to the bone
‣ (at least don't have one that's currently working)
‣ if u think it's 'cause I can't afford it, u're deluded
‣ I just don't feel like "I really need it, I really want it"; I just simply have no need to use it
‣ while they, as something divine, are nearly being worshiped by some of the addicts
‣ eyes are glued, almost static; nothing more entertaining to do, so they're at it
‣ but why the hell I've even started this unexciting writing...
‣ there is something else I definitely should have already started, it's getting money
‣ that's how much I'm funny & stunning, but enough fvcking whining
‣ to hell with that depressive stuff mentioned above
‣ now, a bit out of the blue too, here come a few lines about one thing many people like to do
‣ who knows, maybe it's regarding even u
‣ if u don't have anything reasonable to let out of ur mind or mouth
‣ don't even bother to come out, rather stay in the background (take that into account)
‣ if u have some, in that case, it's fine to even stand ur ground
‣ and if u're sick of reading my ****t or even just seeing it
‣ then wish me writer's block or even say it out loud
‣ just tryna do something at what I don't totally ****
‣ and besides, it's not like I'm not allowed
‣ for those who're thinking "too much talking for a ghost that barely goes outdoors"
‣ I also have some words: the work is mine, so save ur complaints for
‣ a time when u're gonna be making urs
‣ though I'm not sure it's worth staying to finish it, think this one is not solid at all
‣ maybe, saying so, I'm diminishing; or maybe not, it depends on point of view
‣ what I really know is that there is a whole lot of what I don't know, including u
‣ if u made it to the end, well, give applause; not for me, for urself; adiós
rhymes are conformed to American English

"some" counter: 16
"even" counter: 11
When the seas, all seven, align and combine,
To form one tide, do you believe we have a selection, to
Reside, hide and remain alive?
Or is that our mind tryna confide,
In our own made lie, afraid to die?
If the angels rein down a path to heaven,
I wish to accept, find, listen and abide,
Until I arrive.
Once I’ve arrived at my final destination,
Only then will I quit the investigation,
Quit the pacing,
Where thoughts are constantly racing.
End of days where I communicate,
Debate and question every nation.
An owl of silent observation,
Mixed with a perfection I can imagination,
To relate,
To create,
And modulate,
An exhilarating answer to the allegation,
Fact or fiction,
Which is resurrection?
Such unbelievers, who claim afterlife is an illusion,
Unaware that they are too, just bait,
Heading straight,
Into the great,
Hands of fate.
The weight of the truth,
And proof,
In representation of resurrection,
Cannot be ignored, just like an antique china plate,
Or a mate,
Who’s at times, difficult to tolerate.
It’s inevitable,
So renumerate,
Your pure self, and reinstate,
Circumnavigate,
To the Golden Slate Gate.
Enter your new estate,
Where you are enchanted with the power of illumination.
Before you can await,
The glorious one who turns death into rebirth,
Giving your soul a chance to resurrect,
Recreate, and once again illuminate.
  

-me, myself and I
Stuck in this world that I thought was once perfect
Trapped here with no hope of rescue
My soul is tormented each day
This is my personal hell

This is real and it is true, I'm stuck here
This person won't let me leave

Why won't he let me leave?
Doesn't he care about how I feel?

Aren't you supposed to sacrifice if you love someone?
Isn't that what you're supposed to do?

Why won't he do this for me?
Why doesn't he let me leave?

I thought he loved me
But I was wrong

He loved how I loved him
Even thought I don't
I lied

I stayed because I was lonely
But now I'm trapped and I rather be lonely instead

Why did I do this to myself?
What was I thinking?

I wasn't in the right state of mind when I started this
It's all my fault
My reality is shifted

I can't see the future
I don't have hope

I think I'm stuck here like this forever

c.m.l.
Angela Liyanto Dec 2018
What do it, he do
Jonny do, his black shoe
Living simply, lives his life
For nineteen years he lived
Daring to punch holes, breathe, achoo

Boyish fun, little time I had with you
You said goodbye before I could
Lips heavy, a hubbub smell of Klein
**** me with a broken ****
Tiny as Poseidon’s pool

You come with an Atlantic hug
Pouring my beautiful cotton over you
Near the waters and sheets off
Nausea! I pray you recover my blue
Balm, adieu

Your Chinese tongue, in this Bogan dream,
Lifted by my Caucasian club dance
Of zest, zest, zest
Funniest meeting you, you dandy ham
My Math teacher.

Says you’re a good dozen or two
Could let out my strangeness for you
Put your foot, on my insane root
Then I could feel good for you
But your tongue is stuck in my face.

Midnight rant with ramen coma.
Ugh, Ugh, Ugh, Ugh
We can hardly speak after
I thought every Jonathan was you.
Here comes the language of sighs

A camera, a camera,
Clicking pictures like a curse
A picture to your phone, apple eyes,
I began to talk like Siri.
I think I may well be dreaming.

I have always liked your sincerity,
With your backpack, and your gooeygoo lips
And your light moustache,
And your different lids, softly blinking
I’ll sleep well on your body, Lover-man, O You-

No God for you, but Nietzsche would be okay too
Virtues still squeak through
Every girl adores good patience
The picture I have of you,
I can see love on your patient chin

You’re at the top Jonny,
Let’s try not break our pretty red hearts in two
I was seventeen when I met you
At sixteen I tried to die
And get back, back, back with someone new

You pulled me out of the sack,
And you stuck me together with glue
And then I knew what I wanted to do.
I made myself the best model for you,
A poet in a sundress with a crazed look.

And now a Love of the beauty and the beast.
I said I’m the beast, not you
So Jonny, I’m happiest through.
Months of friendship if you want to know,
Jonny, you can love me too

There’s something you can make out of my fat heart
A dancing accessory for you
I’ll be dancing for you,
From the hospital to library, I knew it was you.
Jonny, Jonny, you Lover-man, I do, I do love you.
For Jonathan.G
Inspired by Plath
Becca Nov 2018
honey pours over sunflower seeds
like the tears on my cheeks
Lonerblues Sep 2018
You knew you loved him
when his lips pressed softly against your thighs as the world stops in time.
You knew you loved him when you giggled in the seat of the car,
your feet bare, tucked
       between your heart.
You knew you loved him when
you saw Venus made hectic twist and turns
     when his eyes landed itself onto you
You knew you loved him when
his kisses became like angelic blessings that made you feel alive.
You knew you loved him when
his I love yous became your favorite lullaby.
You knew you loved him when
      you counted how many times he fluttered his eyes and how many times he twitched in his sleep by your side.
    You knew you loved this boy with all your soul and might
when you wanted to be with him
for the rest of your life.
Jasmine Reid Jul 2018
I do not care to give a crap
I do not care to share my words of advice
I do not care what you think of me.

I’m done, that’s it!
End of this story between you and me, the end that was always meant to be. You walked with me, and I opened the door, then you walked out on me and left me while I rested in blissful sleep.

I awoke to an empty bed, and the thought of drugs in my head, my body stripped bare to the bone, as you had walked out with everything I owned, least that’s what I thought.

I had no material goods left, I had no skin, no muscle and no blood. Just bone.

I thought no one would ever love me, because it was the same **** again and again just with someone new. I was losing hope in myself and everyone else around me thinking I’d be alone forever.

But then I caught a train.
It’s all falling into place
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