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UA Slam Nov 2020
Hot, the feeling on my lips as I close my eyes and think.
I take a deep breath in and exhale as my mind wanders into another world.
I’m always deep in thought, because why would I stay here when the world only takes from me.
I remember all the good times we had, our hands locked as if we were scared that letting go meant the other would float off into the distance.
But once the flame ignited you seemed to forget all about your worries, forget about your past, your future, your present.
The hand loosened and soon I was forgotten about.
You were my only connection to a beat that kept me going, the pulse that let others know I wasn’t a husk of ideas that seemed to be greater than the sum of my own parts.
My rock and soul.
But I learned in high school that once a rock starts moving away from you, it will never come back, it will only ever keep moving.
And I remembered too late, just like that the case had been made and put away. Forgotten about like it never actually ever meant anything.
Heavy, the feeling of my heart as I open my eyes and cry.
I poured myself some hot tea and thought about how that was my life.
A revolving door of those who take and leave, as I stay and get hurt.
Jasmine and Mary they always seemed like a great couple, but once you looked deep inside they were only hurting each other.
One burning too hot and the other just not. One soothed the pain and the other removed it.  
Don’t mix your tea with your ***, unless you want to slowly watch it all drift away.
~ Gabriel G
Dvali Taytem Sep 2020
Hello there, Kettle
My name is ***
You’re blackened metal
And I am not

You are used for water-boiling
And I am used to cook
You are such a soiled thing
But I have such a look!

You find yourself, I am sure,
An object of ridicule
And I am found all the more
As absolutely critical

Do not pretend to be so true
As to walk the path that I’ve got
Do not pretend that I am like you
I assure you that you are not

You must endear to be like me
Old Kettle, I’m helping you out
You could change if you’d only see
You’re the one that sticks yourself out!

So go away, dumb Kettle,
Go away you silly old fool
Do not ******* and settle
You down ‘til you know the rules:

If you feel, do not speak
Not to me, at least
But if your hunger will not leave
Perhaps you need a priest

Or someone else who can deal with this
And the problems I’ve outlined, as well
Because I don’t want to deal with your *******
Just get some mother-******* help

I am the ***
You are the kettle
I am not like you
I am not like you
7/25/2020, 7:48 PM
K Balachandran Jan 2020
A trail of smoke rises,
A died down pyre,broken clay ***,
Crows eat scattered rice.
In Hindu funeral ceremony,which is largely symbolic a  terracota ***,symbol of mortal coil is broken by the son who leads the rituals.Crows eating the rice and eight other grains is considered suspicious.
Dream Fisher Nov 2019
What kind of protest do you accept?
In what way is anyone allowed to express?
Do you want a riot with blades and guns,
Police beating them back for fun
Shoot up the streets, let them run?
Broken glass smashed on the old store fronts
Holding signs to get beaten down
Like we all have a message,
Silence it before the media comes.

What if they kneeled for your flag
In respect to those who were treated unjust.
It's peaceful but you still kick up dust.
They push back to say all matter
But they don't see this white double standard.
How can you say who's oppressed
When it isn't your race being addressed?

They want to build walls,
I'm hoping to build bridges.
You're Asian, Latina, African, Muslim, religious?
You deserve every right I've got.
Don't let anyone stop you, come get it
Sincerely, a white man so they give me privilege.
That's messed up isn't it?
Ylzm May 2019
Can the *** ask the potter
why was it made a ***,
and not a bowl or pitcher,
or even a sword?
Can Excel appeal to Gates
that it wants to be Edge?
Or Huawei to God of Money
to appease the Yellow Devil?
The wind whistling, through the trees,
Your face tingling, in the sun beams,
The glimmer of raindrops, on wildflowers,
Beautiful clouds, filling the empty hours,
Grains of sand, trickling down,
to the bottom of the glass,
The scratch of the lighter, as you light your smoke,
and prepare to pass,
The longing desire, for the next inhale,
Keep the lighter ready, if the joint is stale,
Simple pleasures, fulfilling empty desire,
Twinkling eyes, gaze at the fire,
The weight has lifted,
it’s never been so light,
Another deep breath,
watch the joint glow bright,
The air has never, smelled so sweet,
This pine forest, is your new retreat,
Steady yourself, at the base of a tree,
For the first time, you are free.
"Grains of sand trickling down, to the bottom of the glass" the "glass" is an hourglass referencing to time which is mentioned more than one in this poem. It is a play on how we all are so worried about time and it going by too fast or too slow, but with one cloudy inhale we can stop worrying about it all together, and truly appreciate the little things. Little things like the sound of wind, the smell of trees, the glimmer of raindrops on flower petals.
Salmabanu Hatim Apr 2019
flowers dry
leaves fall of
an amazing potpourri.
14/4/2019.
You age.Your beauty and strength diminishes and children leave you.
But you still count grandmother aunt friend advisor ( frame, home wreaths, hangings).
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