For the first time in quite a longtime I am happy. Not the kind of happy like fake laughs at terrible jokes or the happy that never has some sort of real meaning. Right now, November 2017, I am happy. I can feel my heart race when something good happens to someone else, I smile at everyone that I see, I find joy in helping others and I'm not afraid of love. I am not afraid to care for someone or to tell someone how much they mean to me. My walls have come crashing down but, not so loudly to the point where all of the people that hurt me come running back to damage the new heart that I fixed but, to the point where they came down softly and not all at once and people that I thought were just passing by saw the good, happy side of me and decided that they want to stay there, stay in my life, not to trash it and throw everything that they don't like away but, to clean it up and make it sunny again.

On top of the world
Watch me as the sun shines
Rays surrounding my silhouette
Watch me as the sun shines
Fire coursing through my veins

Wisps of smoke trail from my skin
Memories long forgotten emerge
As I slip, sliding off my throne

The crown fell first.
Afterwards the scepter was taken
From my hands by the unfriendly wind

Don't watch me as I fall
My robe trailing behind me
I look like the condemned angel
Only I'm without wings

As I plummet faster and faster
I catch light
I know someone will be wishing on me
Don't watch me as I fall

Don't ask. This poem is open to interpretation, including to myself.

Life seems so tragic.
And yet the sun is still there
behind these thick clouds


Set   Fire   to   the   beach!

T h e  c r u e l  s u n  c r i e d.

While the edge of the earth

licked it's rays with the tide

his skin like a paper; it peels and curls and cracks
the heat like a vapor; it seals and swirls and traps
                     i t s e l f    i n s i d e    h i s    c e l l s                          

   a virus encircles above                    
                                               ­       just a seaside paloma        

                 i m p r e g n a t i n g  skin                                              
                              ­                      with malignant melanoma        

his doctor like a butcher; with hands he chops and stains
his pain like a structure; it stands and burns and caves
i n      o n      i t s e l f

Set   fire   to   his   cells!

The   cruel   chemo   cried

while the wicked bag of morphine

dripped drops at his side


© Mike Mortensen

Grey gravel dust
Credit card decline
Hands covered in rust
Intelligent design

Superficial lust
Heated sunshine
Energy, don’t have much
But I hope you are fine

Some days are the sun
Some days are the moon
And some days are the stars which burn out in-between

BA Khan 2d

Moon  shining ever so bright,
Enshrining everything in silvery light,
Even the stream flowing like silver fright
The flowers too lost in this cascading night
All in awe of the delightfull sight
Yet they will know the the truth in the morn light
When the Sun will expose itself so bright,
All the silver gone from the previous night,
And shining gold, true to the truthfull bright
For it has ever been thus from the first light
The Sun always shining true and bright.

By BA Khan (C) 19/11/2017

Knowing Folks will know the value of Sun and Moon

skin covered in shadows
a dead winter leaf bouncing against a flourishing summer tree
                                    catching the handle of a spider string
holding onto the living as if
                     it can escape its crumbling burial
             only can a field of soft, mumbling earth
                             call sleep more swiftly than a mattress
within the green and blue sphere are textured tints that release
            wifts of genuine air spilling into half-filled industrial lungs
                      can art be felt when eyes don't open?
as closed eyelids fall humble to the glowing yellow light
            answered silently with a curl of the lips

sarah 3d

I do not betray those I care for.
Yet something inside me
yearned to understand

has a price.

So I left,
and with me,
took memories
of your face
in the morning sun.

When you left,
you took with you
of huddled warmth
and content.
Now all I know is

Can I regret
knowing you?
If the horizon can
forget the dark
long enough for the sun
to rise,
why is it so hard for me?

Can I regret
loving you?
I’d hate you if I could.

But time is a thief.
And happiness is it’s victim.

Like the glowing sun
I start my days with a smile
And thoughts about you


together with a book on my hands and thoughts of you...that's how my morning starts
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