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Crystal Apr 5
After her fall,
they too plummeted.

If for no other reason than
because there was something different
about the air they breathed in.

Something dire in the tracing of their roots.

A hand print  lost in time.
and it was as if everything that was her
vanished along with it.

And So we leave here too
Perhaps to find liveliness.
Poem about the  novel ****** Suicides.
J Christmas Feb 22
Never let anyone tell you
How ****** up a person is
Pointing at Her or Him
At them or here with
Disdain dressed
To look like despair
God damns the
Sanctimony of fools
Black robes
Far worse for the wear
Let em point at me
I have not a care
Because just like them
I am Jack the Ripper.    I am St. Paul
I sifted salt with Ghandi
And I slit throats with King Saul
I am the ****** Mary
I hear the knocking
on my door  
It may just be the neighbor
A fiend looking to fix me
Or to score.   Either way
We’ve all been here
Countless times maybe more
Its eternity that's calling  
Remember living forever?
Before you were ever born?
I've offered every solace
I've mended every fall  
I’ve turned the other cheek
And the pious broke my jaw
My work here is near done
And trust me I had a ball    
So shed not a tear
Nor curse me to befall      
For soon you will be me
And I will be you all.
Copyright 2019 John D Christmas
My arms are open
Like my mind

My love is receiving
Like my heart is empty

I am as critical
As I am in search of a pinnacle

Yet I do not chase my quarry

I seem to think she will just fall unto my midst

How lazy
How repugnant
How laughable

Naive

I preach of self reflection

But caught between two mirrors of my own hypocrisy

My vileness reflects back to me.

Blinded by my selfish **** for connection with one not of my disposition

I miss the blinding double standard

I continue to lie.

To spread pseudo-self exploration

Pseudo-self understanding

So my arms may be as open as I say my mind is

And my love may be as receiving as  my heart is empty

But my soul

My soul is as yellow
As my teeth.
My city was a ******
Who took broken people in
She took in the helpless
And lifted them from their sin
My city was a lover
She made dreams and plans come true
Never minding the cost
Her rivers ran with blue

Then my city sold her treasure
For a pale and gross estate
She lost it all for pleasure
Never mind what it would make.
Now her streets are filled with blood
And her clothes are all but gone
The beauty that once defined her
Was just sold for mindless fun.
My eyes see the blood and pleasure
That have made her mind go blind
What has she become?
Everyday more sins she finds
her hands are filled with blood
Of the innocent and kind
She once had a solid treasure
That she sold for spoons and forks
Welcome to the land of pleasure
Welcome to my home, New York.
Luis Valencia Dec 2018
it feels like thunder
the first time always feels that way
he takes me in his hands and i melt
my body is overheating
i try to suppress my pleasure
i'm afraid to make a sound  
he kisses me
his lips are hot to the touch
everything about this is burning
sweat drips from our skin
his hands are holding mine and im lost
im feeling everything im feeling pleasure
the thunder booms
and i yelp and pant
then lighting strikes
it blooms all around us
it raises the hair on our skin
it flashes so quickly
i begin to relax
i feel warmth all over me
the rain begins to fall
and he lays beside me
i grab his hands and kiss his palms
the rain softens
and he pulls me closer
only he can create a storm inside my body
A tribute to the first time.
Purcy Flaherty Nov 2018
I booked myself a ride;
On a galactic flight,
through the atmosphere,
out towards the light,
unity and pride;
is one satellite,
I'm a spaceline pioneer;
whistling through the night.
We're verging on a new beginning somewhere out in space
We're verging on a new beginning somewhere out in space ! !
We're setting out on a new adventure;
somewhere out in space,
buy a ticket !
secure your seat;
and join the human race !
Oh !
Space race is still in!
Raylind Nov 2018
What good is tall grass?
Your blue eyes cupped in my hands, already

I've asked the saints to dunk me under
in all undue riches
save me from my Only One

Ocean shores love knees to touch
craving almost as much our love long whispers
heads bowed
Our toes realizing chorus and green
and tame it no longer, tumbling
so fully-it shocks us to the tips of our hair splits
not even sandy yet

Offering my jewels to Pharaoh
maybe he could take this price off my head,
my wheels off, nights pink tongue from my window

Over the beds of yellow and orange prayers, still blooming
I step beside the ****** to ask,
but not forgetting,
blue ball caps that scream
over the tops of curly heads

and where am I but always with you at the beach?
a heart in the deep end
Shofi Ahmed Oct 2018
There was left a gap
that the heaven
did not touch.

The arch codebreaker
hacked in only to find
it's on the face of the earth.
That did the art.

The gap the Golden Cut
is above the rest
is neither in the heaven
nor is here on earth!
Where is it tucked away?

If only one can tell
it's still a ******
still a pure blank.
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