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Gabriel burnS Nov 2018
...thoughts and feelings are soulless soldiers
bleeding my blackness like ink
leading the cracks to the brim
And do they dip deep, indeed...
they come out the other side thinning
and thinning still
and thinning
and seething my fabric
as my quietness parallels the tempo of serration
the wanting of you:
to flow and embrace
my every erasure
with the renewal
the slow violent blossoming
flowing and growing
into our fragrance
Our one world
Julian Delia Oct 2018
Haunted, yet I am undaunted;
Infuriated by this world we created.
One drink turns into seven,
On the brink as the world burns,
Denied entrance at the gates of Heaven.

I close my eyes, but my mind’s eye still sees –
I chose to stifle my cries, part the seas of tears,
To stand when I wanted to fall on my knees.
‘You’ left a poisonous aftertaste,
Truly, a treasonous exit, made in haste.
I was in pain, with nothing to gain,
Like a dragon in chains waiting to be slain.

Now, as I spread my scaly wings,
As I light a fire in my belly,
Blow out smoke in rings,
There still are a few things I want to say.
Every thought of ‘You’ brings dismay,
A memory that still rots and decays.

Ingrained inside my library of perceptions,
Stained all over my heart,
A long catalogue of assorted deceptions.
I know every new day is easier,
For life is but a spark and a show,
And a fresh dawn just marks the next tier;
Yet, sorrow on every morrow follows like a pet.
One day…
One day, I will forget.
I’ll fill my cup with joy,
And drain it of regret.
One day...in the mean time, I'll play with the ghosts.
Sam Oct 2018
"Somewhere", spoke the grey lips in the wall.
Somewhere before sunrise,
before the first bird crows to dawn
and the apathetic are yet to uncurl
the grit that gathers like dust
between the folds of shallow eyes.
"Somewhere". A derogatory term.
Their humanity bears no resemblance to us
as skin and bone the only price to pay
for "unpeople".
Cities made of paper,
soaked in a drought. Somewhere East.
Or maybe South? Somewhere far off relevant,
so alien to home, allotted just enough frames
for you to feel how fortuitous;
but not enough so the screams
swallow your evening meal and you swat the sound of flies
pouring through the static of your transient box.
Bryce Oct 2018
I am showing you how god works in one way
I cannot help but think, speak, dream,
Holding life as a box of chocolates
and wanting badly to poison the dog

the bugging, nagging, aching thing
the ballbusting nature of loneliness
of solitation
"salutations, sweet girl
I am one of the many males."

We don't pick our breakfasts
We have to fight for them
because we ate a crabapple
with our balanced scripture
Now we're Mars' Barred.

I want to touch the vessel that holds you
I want to touch it gently, molding it as clay
your cheeks, rosy, adobe,
the same red as the old
Your eyes the colors of amber before it was made
The subtle breath of turquoise
The diamond-speckled rings
I want to be the emptiness that gives you form
I want to be the innate human function
I want to kiss you because you are god
and you are god that speaks.

I want to kiss your soul,
I want to feel your light
because the aesthetic of you:
A Cole Thomas in the gallery
Rhapsody in Blue, the love theme
A swan in the early autumn, seeking herself
in the reflections on the pond

I want to be the god back
The spoken voice that gave you chills
the same way you shiver on a lonely night,
staring at the enumerate stars, lining up into couples
via perspective parsecs dancing across your eyes
and pulling each follicle closer, closer--

Darling the high likelihood is that we will pass each other by
I will wave goodbye to god, pay my tab,
stumble outside
Maybe watch you disappear
listen to Adagio as the engine begins to explode
controllable
Knowing this will all happen again until it doesn't.
Keonna Oct 2018
Static, static,
Why do you awaken me Charlie?
Can’t you see I’m trying to sleep?
Static, static,

I’m sorry Keonna,
It’s just that your the only energy that I️ can see,
Static, static,

Why do you watch over me?
Are you trying to scare me?
Static, static,

No, no, I️ wish to communicate,
This the only time we can talk when it’s late,
Your energy strong,
Why can’t we communicate for long?
Static, static,

Because Charlie I️ have to get up for work,
And I️ don’t know anything about the other side and it’s mysterious perks,
Say Charlie, where are your from?
Are you from a different plane, planet or dimension?
How come feeling your presence I️ always hear a thump?
Static, static,

Something like that,
But there is something I️ want you to do,
Static, static,

I️ can’t hear you?
What is it you want me to do?
Static, static,

Charlie? Where are you?
Static, Static, Static.
Tsaa Oct 2018
they say that a kiss is a form of surrender
for it is not the same as a wave, a high five, a shake of a hand, nor a hug
it is both a physical and emotional connection
whereas some people do it over a game of spin the bottle, kissing the next person the bottle points to
while others kiss and spare themselves from the alcohol induced intoxication, settling for a whole other level of intoxication brought on by another human being

it is different when you kiss someone for the sake of kissing them
it is almost a language, wherein it translates even some of your deepest thoughts to lower lip nibbles
your needs to the subtle exhales, breathy grunts

it is also awakening, as you come in for the kiss eyes closed but open upon separation to see and be faced with what you were just most vulnerable with
the reality hits you
you were within another's space, clenching on to their clothes as if for salvation, drawing them close as if they were to drift away like jack in the titanic

but then it doesn't take too long for you to go back in and feel that same rush
it is the rush of losing yourself and letting not just your lips but entire body be in the responsibility and confinement of the other
it does not bother you, or scare you, however
you feel almost woozy like experiences with alcohol, when in fact it is all from the kiss
you are more than willing to risk personal sobriety for this form of intoxication, even if it leaves you panting from the exhaustion and adrenaline afterwards

then it's your turn
when the other looks at you and waits
eyes tracing from the surface of hazel straight into the void of your soul
nothing is more audible than their breaths and the beats of their heart
with a voice so weak yet so eager
"just kiss me"
and then, they too, surrender
Julian Delia Sep 2018
Mingħajr flus,
La tgħannaq u lanqas tbus –
Hekk qalulna l-imgħallma tal-passat.
Nesew javżawna *** is-serq sfaċċat;
Lanqas ħasbu *** kif il-moralita’ ta’ pajjiżna spiċċat.

Qawl li jiżvela realta’ kerha;
Messaġġ li tassew iġegħlek tħares lejn il-mera.
Mingħajr flus, aqbad u insa’ d-drittijiet!
Dak li qiegħed ngħid m’huwiex sigriet;
Għall-liberta’ tal-pajjiż,
Bkew l-ommijiet, u mietu l-missirijiet.

Issa, minflok, il-liberta’ tmur għand l-ogħla negozjant.
Sadanittant, tefawha ghal bejgħ, u gidbulek;
Qalulek li għal ġid tiegħek,
Huma u jidħku bik u jdeffsu idejhom ġo butek.

Bil-flus, mela, tagħmel triq fil-baħar!
Bil-flus, ibni torri ħalli jkollok biex tiftaħar!
Mingħajr il-flus, insa’ s-saqaf *** rasek,
Ara taħseb li xi ħadd ħa jagħti kasek!
Mingħajr il-flus, ara minn fejn ha ġġib l-ikel,
Kif ħa titma lill-uliedek mingħajr ma jkollok tfittex fiż-żibel.

Bil-flus, pero’, tħabbilx moħħok;
Mill-maġġoranza tal-poplu,
Tistħix tigi alabibżobbok.
Mistoqsija waħda għad fadalli:
Gheżież antenati li ġew qabilna, li messew xtutna –
Hawn x’għamilna lilna nfusna?

__________

(in English)

Without money,
You shall receive neither hugs, nor kisses -
That's what the wise men of old said.
They forgot to warn us about shameless theft;
They didn't think about our country's morality,
In decline.

A proverb that reveals an ugly truth;
A message that forces you to really look at a mirror.
Without money, forget your rights!
What I am now saying is no secret;
For this country's liberty,
Mothers have cried, fathers have died.

Nowadays, liberty goes to the highest bidder;
In the mean time, they put it up for sale, lying to you;
They told you it's for your own good,
As they laugh and dip their hands in your pockets.

With money, then, build a road in the sea!
With money, build a tower so you'll have plenty to boast about!
Without money, forget a roof over your head;
Don't even think someone will pay attention!
Without money, figure out where food is coming from,
How you're gonna feed your kids without dipping your hands in trash.

With money, however, don't fret;
As for the rest of the population,
Do not be embarrassed to admit you don't give a ****.
I only have one question left:
Dear ancestors who came before us, who touched our shores -
What have we done to ourselves?
'Minghajr flus la tghannaq u lanqas tbus' is an ancient pearl of Maltese 'wisdom' that inspired the words you see here.
b Sep 2018
i swear i was born for the train.

slow and convenient.
high maintenance
and free if youre lucky
but cheap if youre not.

i can

get you close enough to
know youre lost.
a kink in these wheels
might send us flying.

//

i am so far gone
and past. the mold on
these leaves smell
much of home.
and i am giving my
skin for impossible deeds.

to rid us of time.
to live when i please.

in some way i feel
as though i am not living
if im not being hit
by the scaffolding.
a world is being built
while i check my
clothes in a passing window.

i will say words i regret
on this train, but they are
words i mean. like cyanide
for the agent i will die
for my cause if it cant
**** me first
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