Beau Scorgie Apr 19

You're a good mummy,
he told me
you give me food
every night.


I thanked him,
told him how happy
his words made me,
but I began to cry.

Images of mothers,
some place else,
somewhere I am not,
flooded me.

Images of mothers
whose children
cry out in hunger.

Images of mothers
who hold their children close
because they have
nothing else to give.

I don't know how it feels
to tell a child
they cannot eat
for a third day
in a row.

I don't know how it feels
to watch as your child's ribcage
becomes more defined.

I don't know how it feels
to be truly helpless.

I cry,
for the image of mothers
whose tears remain unheard.

That maybe someone
might hear me
and ask why.

border towns and underground existence
where does the first world end and third world start?
there third and fourth worlds in every city
on every corner
consequences of occupation
po-lice proxy wars
how we got border towns?
when each neighborhood lies on some border
between white and Black and Brown
Rich and Poor
first and third world
right?
first world the colonizers
third world the colonized
second world the ghost of the genocides
it took to preserve capital's wretched glory
the first world will be the first engulfed
in fiery ruin

Ma Cherie Feb 26

A smile hides the searing pain,
pushed up close an cheek to cheek,
her love for him she gives in vain,
a knotted throat she mustn't speak,

People see just what they want,
a beauty with a smiling face,
she hides the bitter truth behind,
her well lit eyes of tempered grace,

It's not she doesn't love him,
she adores his every wrinkle,
it's just she doesn't see the same,
her eyes no longer twinkle,

Hopes they daily deeper go,
to places that she'd rather hide,
she dare not even mention them,
too many minutes to abide,
wanting her to go again,
an not be at his beckon side,
to stay is wrong you say,
does she not have any pride?

She's in the same place over,
an over again-
it seems,
it's Groundhog day,
so she reaches out a tired hand -
again and dreams,
as the alarm again will play,

Her dreams are but a distant place,
a summit she can't reach,
a shore to call her heart back home,
a hauntingly familiar beach
with some shells around her ankle,
an scarring from blood-sucking leach,
painful is the bite you know,
her freedom brought by what it teach,

With her toes beneath-
the wave of coming fortune,
the one he says that cleanses all,
as it dies before it gets to her,
well she thinks that thing has got some gall,

She takes a calming moment,
and the deepest poet's sigh,
as she is ever grateful,
this is not her sad goodbye,

Thankful she was watching,
with the other useful eye,

Safe from certain disaster,
watching the angry wave,
dissipate unto it's own oblivion,

an blessed she can still see -
with her eyes completely shut.

Ma Cherie © 2017

I added some at bottom...Hope it all now makes sense...about an abusive ex that I NEVER wrote about before
tumelo mogomotsi Dec 2016

i washed my soul
and my third eye began to open
i see you in me, and myself in you
i feel my consiousness warping.

i see the value in my knowledge
i know something which is that i know nothing at all
all my movements on this earth amounts to dust
for the blend of our minds and flesh is just a particle in the sixth dimension which is not much at all.

i see the power in nothingness
our consiousness is nothingness and all of this is well
you are me and i am you and we are nothing
our consiousness is unconsious to earthly obstacles and it floats like water molecules in a well.

-t.m

Olga Valerevna Nov 2016

We left each other on the floors
of peregrine facades
and procreated tendencies
by everything we sought
before the sowing season
brought another year to pass
there had to be a harvest
we could gather really fast
in this was our perdition
- an obsession with the time
in making it a servant
to the holes inside our minds
for every time we forced it
to remain a second more
we compromised the very
things it had for us in store
as we created cycles so
destroyed we life itself
in giving up each other
we were left with nothingness

the third book.
Dhaye Oct 2016

Why I always have this feeling when I enter this room
I smell the scent of cologne which is not from yours or mine
How about the color of curtains, it's not my favorite
And there's an extra empty glass beside your glass of wine


I feel like I am no longer welcome when I enter your room
I don't see the smile on your face like what I saw before
The music that you play is no longer my favorite one
Everything I see and feel reminds me that you care no more

Inspired by the title of a movie about an unusual love triangle (a man,  a gay and a woman).
Esther En Qin Oct 2016

You were the one for me
You were the one I cherished the most

You dislike coffee
Hot chocolate is your ultimate favourite

You eat every single vegetables
except for carrots

You love my naked face
You love my insecurities

We still need time to learn about each other
Unfortunately I had to stop it

I didn't know I was the third party
to your another beautiful relationship

We've been together for almost a year now
You've been with her for 5 years

I didn't know whether I was the foolish one
or you were the foolish  one

Was it my fault since I was the one
to interfere into your life?

I didn't know I was the third party
I'm sorry lets not contact each other anymore

By:Esther ong
Roman Soanco Aug 2016

The song of creaking wood
from this warm old rocking chair
soothes my restless mind.

As a stream of hot air,
smells of old books,
cradles me to sleep.

My window panes soaking wet,
filled with tiny little droplets,
from these tears of humanity.

Dare to look outside
Guen Sy Jun 2016

i almost believed
if i waited long enough
my turn will come
i almost believed
i was wrong looking at others
while you slept with some
i almost believed
space was all you needed
til I turned  & checked
and distance was all thats left
- and so did you

Next page