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Vamika Sinha Feb 2016
tea
for the unfinished assignments
for the time of the month
for the boy who douses you with salt
for trying to feel loved

wine
for your tired eyes
for your loneliness, a butterfly
beating its wings on your ribs,
for trying to grasp
what freedom is.

my darling,
don't you love to heal?
don't you love to escape?
find more of my work on my blog La Vie en Rouge (les-etoiles-tombent.tumblr.com) and share the poems that you like!
brixton bell Jan 2016
A sleepless night
  and i thought i dreamed of you
dark eyes; deep heart,
  have i found you?
or are these petty games
equivalent to love
  and is this life
  really
  mine.

Still i cradle you to sleep.
lost hours, clock forgotten-
  dreams won’t find me tonight
  and it may be for the better.
But then again
one can never really tell.
The words flow like blood again;
i tell myself it’s easier
this way.
My heart, my mind, always
       at war
we are all soldiers in this game,
maybe the whole of mankind
is just
as lost
as i am.

Reckless love, how i find both
  comfort & tragedy
   in your arms.
As indicated the night rolls on,
   flowing in tune with the lunar tide.
We are strangers.
Fight for the common good...
or maybe not.
Maybe the dreams
really are lies
maybe the light
won’t ever find me;

Still i fight on.
Lost in myself, in you, in humanity-
still the charge is there.
Embers growing then fading
& i wake
   in the cold sweat
you always seem to leave me with.
Day will be heavier.
it always is.

i dance with the ghosts,
   those others forgotten-
     locked in time and in
    my perception of mortality.
We are the dead, history repeating herself,
that silly cosmic dance.

Half chance.
i’ll pray for solace.
i’ll pray for peace.
i’ll pray for anything
for anything at all.

Jamais.
brixtonbell.com
The only peace we can ever afford ourselves is from within...
The moment you start speaking things into existence,
The sooner you can find that peace
Lacking imperfection his un illuminating
yarn woven secrets speak spilling
silt that doesn’t even exist.

Inseperable the meta voltaic charged touch
of her skin against his blemished soul leaving behind
marks of polyphony with staccatos hanging by a pine,
gathering gusts of wind and rocking his unsteady soul
on the swing set into a leap into the depths
of the blue oceanic sky and diving deep
into her love
that binds him together
forever more.

Ever again her calming wind
shakes up the roots of the evergreen trees
in the movable earth of his body.
Ignatius Hosiana Dec 2015
Too used to being alone
Too afraid of losing solitude
For unlike company
Loneliness never betrays
Even in darkness I feel her rays
Nirvana Dec 2015
crying in silence
never allowed my tears
show their presence
I love you I swear

it hurts
your absence
I wanna put cuts
all over deep and dense

listening music
and remembering you
I feel so sick
and I'm so *****(ed)

death may embrace me
and put me at ease
I'm fed up of this monotonicity
I beg you Lord please!!!
#Missing you...
Seán Mac Falls Dec 2015
She told me with tears
How others had abused her
Our hands knotted tight
Erika Castaldo Dec 2015
fictioI watch as the words become images;
People, places, adventures.
They become an entirely new world,
A world separate from reality.

I stare at the pages
And let the screaming fade into the background.
I get lost in the words
And the chaos becomes nothing more than white noise.
I watch as the character’s lives play out
And ignore the grief that plagues my own every day.

I am content in that realm of fiction,
Happy even.
But after a few hours it’s over.
They’ve completed their quests, found their true love,
Discovered some sort of meaning in life.  

And I’m stuck once again in the horror that is reality.  
A place where there aren’t happy endings,
Where you aren’t eager to know what happens next, but fearful.
A place where you’re trapped,
Where you can’t just close the pages and ignore it when it becomes too much.
The only solace in this place is
Knowing that you can open another set of pages and
Escape into that other world
Once more.
Callow birds
shimmering highlights
of lilacs
on it’s busted mantle.
The lamppost tungsten
is a wax doll candle.
Paraffin paragraphs
jotted down on
clouds in paradise.
Throwing a tea party
at the neighbours lewd front lawn.
Resting place of
my weary head.
Wearing
our mountain tops//your shoulder,
my heart’s
hearth and
watershed.
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