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The night will be true
for the star and the moonlight
and I get you too.
Indonesia, 16th March 2021
Arif Aditya Abyan Nugroho
Nikkie Jan 2021
“Don’t you give up on me,” was the comment you made when
you looked in my weary brown eyes. I felt you on a whole other
level, that came to fruition because of your truth. I feel something
for you that I’ve never felt before, it’s foreign to me and I want to
learn your native language. I am grooving to the vibes you send
only to me, and my ultimate desire is learning to move, privately to
your passionate embrace.

Melting like dark brown sugar every time I see your face, I find it
quite amazing how you are able to read me, just by feeling my
inward thoughts and my frazzled emotions. I can feel the softness
in your spirit, it drives your intent to make Me your woman and
sealed my fate to bond our heart.  You are the King of my heart;
mind, body and soul. My special magician and the only man, who
can pull my heart strings and summon me into your lair.

After we talked about our feelings, I closed my eyes and felt what
you felt. Ripples of emotions flooded through me, raining; spring,
summer, fall and winter.  These seasons of change have a rippling
effect, of passionate thoughts and compassionate dreams. I feel
you everywhere inside of me, these vibes we share are pure
electricity. When you told me don’t give up on you, you made me
feel like melted brown sugar. A sweet dark potion that was only for
you, that only you my King, will sample from. We share this intensity
that can be felt across oceans, an intensity that radiates and fills the
gaps, that unlucky fools have thrown away. You make me melt like
honey in tea, that soothes my heart and eases my mind.
Marisa White Dec 2020
Boil, boil, bubble, and brew,
What ingredients do we need to make this stew?
A fisherman’s old, rotten boot?
A coin, shiny and new?
A pigeon's calming morning coo?

Ah! It says here that all we need is:
A child’s old toy
To make a boy
A redwood twig
To make his head big
A vulture’s song
To have him do all wrong
A scale of a snake
To make him a snake
Yes, that’s right
The boy we’re making isn’t going to be a knight
The so-called myth,
The hero, "Zack Smith"
Will be quite far from it,
The opposite in fact.
To make the most dreadful guy
Have all he do is play and lie
We’re going to need a whole, WHOLE lot more.

We’ll need:
A peacock’s heart...
Let’s make it two!
He’ll be sick with double the pride
To be irritating, a mosquitoes coo
The tongue of pig to make him snide
Another three mosquitoes!
So there’s no doubt
That he’ll be ugly inside and out
An entire weasel
For in the entire world, he’ll be the most sly
All he’ll do is play all day
Let's add the cotton-tailed rabbit’s dance
“I’m the greatest!”, is all he’ll say
While holding his nose high in a prance

Now the ***’s overflowing with stuff to make this boy
The last two things: The heart and the brain.
Shall we make his heart pure? His intentions, good?
He’ll mean every word of what he says?
He’ll really... care?
He could never, it’s too late.
We don't need these last two things.

Let’s pour this horrendous mixture into a mold
And put it into the freezer to let it become cold
I’ll sit and wait for him to freeze
When he’s done and solid
What will I do?
Maybe I’ll keep this horrible Grinch of a boy
Try to teach him proper manners
And not let him near people he’ll emotionally destroy
But most likely I’ll let him go
He reminds me too much of someone I used to know

I’ve given him everything (except a brain and a heart)
And he’ll give nothing back
When he’s done
I’m pushing him out into the world to wreak havoc
He’ll hurt some people along the way
But they’ll recover within a day
If they don't, they can join me
And craft boys out of pain and jealousy
But that won't happen
Because, you see
With a name like Zack Smith
Forgettable is what you’re bound to be.
sheesh boys am I right
this a whole book but tell me if you like it!
feedback appreciated :-)
Shofi Ahmed Dec 2020
I took a sip from your cup
a drop of your signature potion.
Oh, you know what?
Just one is enough.
Leave a drop for the bees.
Let the honeycomb build and melt
in this sea of sweet magic!
The rest is yours as you please.
Norman Crane Aug 2020
another day, another lotion,
sighed, “much rather be making potions.”

tedium, boredom, boil and bubble,
add a spice, then add it double,
stir it well and let it settle,
in a kettle,
made of metal.

what's your fancy, what's your trouble?
basin clogged with dwarven stubble?

make one balm,
you've made them all!
concoct a cream, a cream?—a cream!
one more grog burn,
swear I'll scream!

tedium, boredom, boil and bubble,
add a spice, then add it double,
stir it well and let it settle,
in a kettle,
made of metal.

give me dragons, give me daggers,
give me jewels with emerald feathers!
give me—“what?
what's this, right now?
of course I know exactly how!”

roots to find, true essence to distill,
no, but pays the bills.
trf Jul 2021
your violet candle vents
vanilla lilac scents
reminiscent of nights
spent beset by blankets
of silent flower fields
and blinks of fire flies
lighting our landscape love
trf Mar 2020
your violet candle vents
vanilla lilac scents
reminiscent of nights
spent beset by blankets
of silent flower fields
and blinks of fire flies
lighting our landscape love
Shofi Ahmed Aug 2019
A treat for every eye
a potion for every cup
a room for everyone.
One day the sun
will drop into a lap on earth.
It looked red, red
the first day it shone
is still the same red rose!
Tsunami Jul 2019
My brain doesn’t understand how to get from
Point A to Point B
Without hitting Z, F, G, P
A symbiotic drum
Beating to our heartbeats

My mind doesn’t know
How to count from one to ten
Without bringing twelve and ninety
To bubble up in between
It is a potion gone wrong in all honesty

I don’t go from being friends to acquaintances
Its all or nothing
Love and hate
Lust and disgust
There is no middle ground

Thats the problem.
i dont know how to be normal
Nuha Fariha Jun 2019
Gather your books, your notebooks, your pages and pages
Barely legible Catholic school cursive, oil crusted papers
Coffee stains, cheese danish crumbs, ink marks on your thighs

Use your mother’s brain, your father’s tireless oxen energy
Your sister’s bravery, your grandmother’s mix of mango & tajin,
Your grandfather’s home grown guavas from the rooftop gardens
You come from a legacy, a star doesn’t explode in isolation

At my funeral play Jamila, play Nitty, NoName,
Rihanna, SZA, Mahlia, Kamaiyah, MIA, Nina,
Light a votive in the shape of Beyonce and baby Blue
Sing your blues, the chorus never sounded this good
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