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Josh Nov 2017
"Dreams are foreign and uncomfortable. The common dreamworld never quite mimics life in its truest form."

I flew over snowy mountain peaks on my way to Amsterdam, dreaming of existing in my truest form. My layover in Reykjavik was only three hours long, & I was traveling alone. Three hours is just enough time to worry about getting lost & I pondered what it would be like to let go.

My trip would take me to Amsterdam, then London. I would find myself in Amsterdam again by day 10. I chose to ignore the loneliness by drinking a pint of Belgian beer in a bar that was much too small and enveloped in tobacco smoke.

On my way to the bathroom I spotted a cat prowling the floor like he was hunting for a bird. He was out of place, yet here he was in his truest form. Forever hunting for a bird that was nowhere to be found.
Spier Aug 2017
the truth is missing.

a whole town looks

for traces of your

orange red brown hair

after you vanished into

another plane.




the truth is questionable.

you don't know where you are

or how you breathe

or where your flesh and muscle and bones

and wounds have washed away.

was it the other side

or this side?




the truth is stuck.

you push every wall of thin air

and you find that it

is endless.

you shouldn't want to leave.

you can't.
about a book i wrote.
Hasan Aspahani Jul 2017
Ticket

IT should have written your name, in that column.
Do I have to care about the name of the city and the airport?

It should have been the reason for my departure:
go home to meet you, for longing. "Repeat the word, completely
which can fit in empty space, on my ticket paper, "

I will say so, to the registrar.

2. Baggage

I WILL not give this to a haphazard officer.

My backpack will just hug me along the flight.
"It's an unfinished longing, longing to worry me.
There are many who are not caught. It's an incomplete longing, "
I will say so, when I get back to you.

I'm not going to let what is tightness scattered carelessly.


3. Waiting Room

I AM worried about you. The airport in this country is not fair.
There is never a good waiting room for pickup.

I'm worried about me. This heart's longing is also never fair.
There was never enough waiting time, for a moment to be patient.


4. Emergency Door*

WHY does the stewardess always, like telling anxiously?

I already know very well where and how to open
Four emergency exits, wear safety jackets, put up
And removing seat belts. I've been very anxious ever since
Bought the ticket I mentioned in stanza number one. Tickets are on
there I want to write my own name, flight date and time,
And the reasons why you so badly missed.
Paul Jones Jun 2017
No halfway's mark me     as full or empty
when a drop of hope     can change someone's life.
12:30 - 9/06/17
State of mind: defiant; focused.

Thoughts: from thinking - about the saying 'is your glass half full or empty'?

I realise that it is a passive question, not serious, but merely to reveal a person's attitude or outlook.

What I'm exploring with this is the idea of, not just thinking about a person's attitude, but what the actual contents of the glass are. A glass half full might taste of sorrow.

Questions: the glass may be half full or empty but where is the source from which it is filled or drained?
Julie Grenness Mar 2017
If you could choose a superpower,
With what virtues would you be showered?
I would like to be balm to folk,
Lighten disputes with silly jokes,
No need for dumb arguments any day,
Smiling is permitted, let's say,
If I could choose a superpower,
Peace on Earth I would shower.......
Feedback welcome.
David Doran Mar 2017
As I sit here above the sky
And look upon the clouds
I stretch my mind far and wide
As much as it allows

The further I set out about
The sea above the land
It covers and clears, and covers and clears
And without a doubt expands

The tiny lights and tiny fields
It's as if I am a God
With one quick wipe I clean the land
Or upon a town I trod

Yet I can't help feeling like a lonely bird
Upon my wings today
However, it's quiet nice to feel alone
It has its own strange way
I seem to appreciate the smaller things
Like orange rising up from grey
The ear,
The oil, resists
Stubborn word water

She locked her neck target
Like a missle mother

I chimed in
Like a dusty daughter

But she loaned attention
To someone further

Away I go
To ground control

So my flighty feet
Embrace the mold

Of the runways and get-a-ways
For which I've packed

Will busy mother
Want me back?
MARK RIORDAN Feb 2017
A PLANE CRASH AT ESSENDON AIRPORT
AMERICAN TOURIST LIVES LOST
HERE IN AUSTRALIA ON A GOLFING TRIP
NOW THEIR FAMILIES COUNT THE COST

MEN OF CHARACTER AND STRONG STATURE
WITH A VARIED LIFE TRAVELLED
LOOSING THERE LIVES WHILE ON THIS TRIP
NOW THERE FAMILIES LIVES ARE UNRAVELED

OUR HEARTS ARE VERY HEAVY
OUR THOUGHTS ARE DEFINITELY WITH YOU
LETS HOPE THE FAMILIES MEMORIES
COMFORT THEM AS THEY DO
THIS WAS A TERRIBLE TRAGEDY AND WE ARE THINKING OF THE FAMILIES AT THIS TIME OF LOSS.
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