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Eleni Jun 2017
As I lie on an empty street
I see the city lights glimmering, shimmering
A white light flooding over me
exposing my heart hopelessly.

The city feels clean,
the pollution pure air
I am hallucinating
but the high feels rejuvenating

My head descending into an abyss
The lights are dead in every window
My arms loose and waving singing an anthem
Can nobody see me, am I a phantom?

So I drown my sorrows into a bottle
Curl up into my dungeon
That has been my bed for three years
A graveyard for all my tears

Softly, I dream away
Wishing that one day
I will be in the House of God
Safe and secure.

Something approaches me in the darkness
I clasp my knife under my carcass
An open hand awaits me
Wondrous eyes face me

I collapse into warmth.
Madelynn Nieves Jun 2017
I dream of life
Beyond
Dusty Walls
City Noise
Stressful Expenses
Imagining a life of ease
Out in the world
Where a Pen in all we need.
K Coleman Mar 2017
Sometimes I take a deep breath
and think...
About the places I'd rather be,
the people I'd rather see,
the life I want to live.

Deep breath in.

My mind races elsewhere,
infinite experiences to be had,
only limited by my imagination.

Deep breath out.

Maybe it isn't much harder than that
dust from the all the worlds,
a scarf knitted by a mistress from somewhere,
jar of wine that makes you forget the past,
thirst for the lands unseen,
this was all
what the nomad ever carried.

scriptures from all of the worlds
a letter written in some undecipherable language,
potion that makes you drown in dreams,
curiosity of meeting people never seen,
this was all
what the wise ever amassed.

they never traded stories
they traded in worlds.
AM Jan 2017
The Nomad

She sat at the shore of the sea, she needed to breathe.
She wondered if the waves that kissed her feet, were the same that waved his ship.
She traced back his faded embrace,
And how his smile would luster under the cotton shades

He wanted a lady, fresh from a family home
But he had no idea about her nomadic soul.
And little did he know about the abyss in her heart,
And how she dreamed of discovering the stars.

He got a woman possessed by the world,
And all he had built for them was never her home.
He found her lady, but she wore no pearls and bore no cross
For the crowds was her peace and in their wonder she would get lost.

One night she took a road trip to the beach,
Hoping that the sea would satiate her elusive dreams
As she touched the salty water, she wondered if he could see her face in all of those ports,
For she whispered her good-byes and hoped the waves would deliver her love.

*
AM
Diána Bósa Oct 2016
This heart of mine is
a wanderer nomad and
now it is on the

loose. It became wroth
and restless for the mind is
bowed down; the shameful

armistice is now
signed. Because it is still
aware that if it

gave upon on you,
if it ceased to love, it would
cease to beat eternally.
Hannah Sep 2016
She has a gypsy soul.
She chases the
colors of the wind,
and dances beneath
the light of the moon.
• Gypsy Soul •
Sands slip through my fingers,
sun scorched with dried blood
staining the palm where I wiped the blade.

I did not bleed. I did not bat my eyes
when his severed limb flew past my face.
My eyes opened wider and tasted victory
more intently than my screams
vanquished his memory.

I thought it was but an apparition on the sands
miles past; a haunting, a demon, a scorned lover
back for revenge now that I made off with valuables:
the fastest steed, the cave within me
where he stored his treasure when he pleased.

Thus when he appeared, when he charged by foot
and outstretched his arms (much smaller from my new height)
feebly, weakly to end me first, so he could brag to the village,
"She is like the women who believe they can fly."

I do fly
to my sword,
my hand unsheathes the blazing boiling metal.
With one sharp ting I watch his arm and the tiny dagger
sail across the desert and settle atop the sand,
gently gracefully, unlike his living, boasting words
would have wanted.

To the man who brought destruction in the depths,
where coolness and faithful waters dripped down the walls;
where no one dared near for fear of the One who is near me.

They will say warrior was born of ruins.
If they ask me, I will say, "Warrior is born of defeat no more."
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