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pk tunuri May 2019
Boy : 1 2 3
             Set me free

Girl: 6 5 4
            Are you sure

Friends*: 7 8 9
                  Everything will be fine
Porpor May 2019
One
Two
Three

One line
Two lines

One love
Two loves
Trio marrige
Yeah you
Masha Yurkevich May 2019


I have three sides:

1. The quiet, sweet, and shy side.
2. The fun, loud, and crazy side.
3. The side you never want to see.


I think we all have side Nº 3.
Leocardo Reis May 2019
The moonlight splinters through the blinds
To show in darkness one can find
The place where one might ought to be,
Yet absent, unbelievably.
Regardless of whom she spends her nights,
The same moon which reveals he
Is the same one which had shadowed me,
Painting us in equal light;
Strangers of the lingering night.
Whether from the covers of a stuffy bed,
Or in winter cold instead,
It matters not, as you can see,
It is for him, not me or he.
And softly into the night we sink,
We three, with all the time to think
With who it is we want to be
Wasting time thus carelessly,
As he and I dream up the same,
And she thinks of a different name,
The night deepens, the moon shines forth
A missing person, a missing fourth.

And thus it ends,
Essentially,
We always look for someone else,
Across the street, behind a door,
Around the corner, on the next floor,
It matters not, I must admit,
No effort which one may submit
Can change the fact of where we are,
He and I, him and her
Separated by a comma in a poem,
Separated by a thought in someone’s head,
Clumped together in a warm cafe,
Lonely in each one’s own way.
I am certain, I am sure
He and I are equals in nothing
Except worthlessness.
for Lori, Riley and Kendrick

the questioning words jump off the page,
into two hands transforming,
words shape shifting into
multicolored ink stained fingers,
now, all a chokehold on my brain,
my throaty gasps rasping from
a simplistic convolution -
single questioning deserving an answer

what are you made of?

the obvious answers left in the slow lane,
bone, tissue, rivers and arteries of blue bloods,
just oil and fuel of a containership,
but the cargo carried, that’s the real stuff

you have insight inside that cannot be seen,
self-survival instincts that morph into morals,
our shared air affects you differently,
a sense of defending, caring,
costless  and costliest simultaneously,
spaghetti strands strong sinewed intertwining,
into a better human than most

to call you hero is wrongly insufficient,
but the thesaurus lends me no substitute,
weep, I do,
as the spring and summer blushing green
will not be seen by you at all, and by me,
seen now so differently,
when thinking of
soil-born courage instinctual that has no name,
but grows only in nature

what are you made of?

we know now, but knew not well,
that thing that makes you leap first,
was all you, the entirety of the best,
that exists, existed, as reminders to us,
to mine it, wear it,
medal it upon our fabric

you three,
breathe it back, exhale it from where ever you are,
that trace chemical odor in our atmosphere,
of life-giving sweetness, a rebirthing chlorophyll freedom
that we humans all desperately need,
even just to know it exists,
and inform us


what we need to be made of
——
“As shots fired inside a synagogue outside San Diego last month, Lori Gilbert-Kaye, 60, put herself in between the shooter and the rabbi and died as a result.
Riley Howell, 21, charged a gunman who burst last week into a University of North Carolina-Charlotte lecture room carrying a pistol. He too lost his life to save others.
And Tuesday inside a STEM school in Denver, Kendrick Castillo, 18, lunged at a fellow student who had pulled a gun in class, giving his classmates time to take cover. He was the lone student killed in the attack.”
Shivani Lalan Apr 2019
sometimes,
my brain finds solace
on a sweet picnic table -
set up for a short tea,
on tatami mats,
in a garden with half a blanket
of pink-white blossoms
sleeping on the earth.
on such days,
my words settle into
seventeen sweet spots -
no fuss, no muss -
like schoolchildren after a field trip,
too tired and hopefully
too content
to rebel.

sometimes,
my words come to rest
as if my heart and my hands
are all weary travellers,
and i sent them to retrieve riches
that are way beyond
belonging to seventeen neat corners.
and so i apologize,
i call it laziness,
offer some food for thought,
and a warm place to rest
between the
three
simple
lines
of a haiku.
It took a bit of courage
Whiskey and Cigar
I spent the day working on it
Sitting in my local bar

I planned it out precisely
I'd drop by her place by eight
I kept building up my courage
I made sure I wasn't late

She let me in and kissed me
I lit a smoke and grabbed a drink
She went into the bedroom
I had five minutes more to think

I poured myself another
Put the smoke upon the glass
I went into the bedroom
And then it came to pass

It started with three little words
She started as my friend
And now again, three little words
Put this friendship at an end

The three words were I love you
And those words made her cry
The three words now were different
Sorry, and goodbye

I left the glass upon the table
The cigar, I left that too
I left and she was crying
It was what I had to do

The courage that I needed
Had expired as I spoke
It was resting on her table
A glass of whiskey and a smoke
Bummer Apr 2019
I know that you hate me,
so lets not pretend,
your words were soaked in love,
but all good has an end.
no. this isn't about you. so stop thinking that it is.
Chris Apr 2019
The three wheeled truck sees the fours and asks itself "Why can't I be like that?"
The three wheeled truck has two four wheeled parents, but still only has three wheels.
The three wheeled truck is a bit slower than four and is unable to haul as much.
The three wheeled truck is left to rust.
Enjoy.
Philomena Mar 2019
I remember hearing those three words
I never said them first until you
I don't know if I was just desperately trying to feel something
Or just felt at peace with you since the beginning
You surprised me then and you surprise me now
And dear sweet heavens
I'm terrified of the day you get me down to two words
And mortified the day you have me at one
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