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fray narte Nov 2020
this is no place for songs; songs are for heroes
and the carpets and garlands are all floating lifelessly:
a striking resemblance
of the islands —
our islands —
disappearing one by one.

this is no place for songs;
instead, you will hear the sirens screaming —
haunting the walls of your home
and you shall never again watch
and they shall never again drown.

and in the shadows, they lurk.
in the depths, they await.

save your breath for prayers,
save your words for a scream.
from the phantom waves where you'll be drowning,
gods spare not a sight.
fray narte Sep 2020
i am so tired of
my wrists being a battlefield —
the shrines for all the times i fell —
they all keep falling apart,
and nothing lasts long enough
for all these wounds
to turn into scars.

maybe the problem is that scars mean you're healing.
maybe the problem is that i'm not.

i have worn this skin away —
long shunned by softness
and each day, i cannot fathom how
i can ever manage to hold gentle things —
press them against my chest
when everything i hold
bleeds and breaks,
including me.

i wish my tongue was more made for poems
and not for dry-swallowed poppies;
the moon flinches at the very sight.

i flinch too.

and i am so tired of my entire skin
being a battlefield
when no one can see the casualties
buried quickly —
buried well.

and oh, what i'd give to be
soft enough to grow flowers on graveyards —
and soft enough not to break myself.
Justine Louisy Jul 2020
Mummy used to buy me hair grease,
for my hair was a seismic wave of crease.
The scalp crying sweat,
the tantrums were the onset.

Wide tooth comb have mercy on the nots,
nests of lies and cheeky clots.
The flurries of dandruff deposit,
the skeletons in the closet.

Mummy brought out the blue magic,
the long strands thirsty to become ethic.
Such a wave of moisture,
like the silkiness of an oyster.

A perfect layer of braided Cornrows,
blended amongst the tropical mangoes.

Mummy says to me you’re a woman now,
be prepared and ready to plough,
the knotty hairs of your little ones.

Go and buy the same hair grease,
to ensure their naughty traits mature into peace.

Justine Louisy

Copyright ©Justine Louisy 2016
All Rights Reserved
So... I’ve mentioned about braids but now let’s talk about the preparation of Afro hair and the goodness of hair grease (metaphorically speaking 😁😅) enjoy!!
Pyre Oct 2019
I've been trying to fill a void
It's gruesome work really
So many ******* Polaroids
With nothing to see really

I still don't remember when
This dark empty whole appeared
I just remember you left, then
He sat there, as if he'd been here

At least the night, she holds stars
This presence, sits next to me
Smoking cigarettes, eating bars
I think it too wants to forget me

He's even tried to swallow me whole
Taking over every single blood cell
I was so drunk, he almost had my soul
I couldn't do anything, but ******* yell

Now he just sits next to me
Trying again...
Every other sad week
Maia Aug 2019
My love is a flower,
So desperate
To cling to the dirt on her feet-
Breathing the sound of the wind,
Petals reaching
For the ghost of a sun
Long gone,
Sunken under the silhouette of
Are an ocean
I ache to swallow
Afraid I’ll drown-
In your love
Is a drug
Of warmth and light,
It is all I need
In this dark-
Maia Jul 2019
I haven’t quite
Wether these veins that web my heart
Are roots
Or fault lines,
But I’m starting to believe-
That maybe
They can exist
As both.
Maia Jul 2019
If only you could hear,
All these words that I’ve discovered
Written upon the walls of my mind,
Disappearing at the wake of light.
Tell me I’m not alone with creating the best poems at 3am in bed and than waking up to forget it all.
Maia Jul 2019
Love, don’t be afraid
We’ve all gone places we cannot hide,
Written stories we won’t deny,
But look at us,
Living. Tonight,
Maia Jun 2019
You held me in your arms and whispered,
“Baby, I’ll make you my queen,”
But darling, don’t you get it-
I don’t need your love
To make me something I already am.
Is it possibly, strange believing,
you’re somewhere else but, still here,
Not physically close by but a feeling
Is it reassurance - perhaps a  safety tier
a presence somewhat instinctive around me.

I speak to you, didn't always do,
not commonplace between us,  conversation:
sometimes there'd be an answer, from your perspective.  
Whenever now I question my determination,
a moments ponder- what might have you selected.

Character of courage and trust: ruled by fairness.
Silent belief - dignified and true,
moral sensitivities caring and kindness
None, ever, placed prominently on view,
just waiting behind your shield, for careful use in crisis.

Solitary - not seemingly lonesome but quiet,
yet, when needed around to convey
considered words, and sturdy hands to guide.
You wisely put to use, new skills, knowledge learnt,
supporting the family if required from day to day.

in thoughts is where your lingering presence exists
reminds, so much still to learn – that’s why
your story, the about you, we will want to hear,
absent physically - true,  yet in thoughts  indeed they persist,
You never left completely Dad, you’re still here.

You Are..
Michael C Crowder  @scorsby            Friday, March 8, 2019
Father's day memory
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