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Pooja Jajoo Aug 24
This pen & paper knows a lot about her
It's her life,
Her journey & little more of imagination.

It relates her
Rather completes her.

Because Somewhere
She is Forlorn,
sad with day's drama.

Her journey gets a shape,
Word, sentence through it.

She finds peace in them.

Atleast, they don't ditch her.
They always exist when she needs them.

This pen and paper knows a lot about her,
It's her innervoice, which the world doesn't know.

-Pooja Jajoo✍️
He wasn't exactly virulent,
nor was he benovalent.
He was always vindicated
which never failed to indicate,
that he was sophisticated.

They said he was a gift taken for granted.
He was free but priceless.
He was what they desired to have
Yet something which made them crave.
It was said he was an illusion.
Which never failed to create confusion.
In the soft &impressionable mind of their's,
They said he seemed limiteless in despair.
But yet was quick in perky affairs.

Once lost he could never be found again.
He was 'time'.

~Faiza Khan
By: Jack Wilder (Ramon Carlos T. Castillo)

Inhale, exhale— I make a long trail,
Like writing the lines of which you love to read,
A call of the aching heart,
Are seen through the words my soul would bleed.
With my hard work, your mind I feed.

And I think about it— life,
So I pick one, straighten it up,
And ignite the inspiration coming from within me,
As I show you the light through paper, pen, and nicotine,
In return, you fuel my perseverance,
And give meaning to my existence.

Such a long trail it is— life,
I think to myself as I puff off a trail of smoke into the night,
The smoke of which is a lot like life,
Long all at once— and gone in one blink.
Dear All Smoking Writers,
And of course non writers who smoke.
Ormond Jan 2015
Late night at the Bar,
The neon sign said time to go,
Funny, when I got there it was all
Welcoming and overenthusiastic,
Garish, like a parade of clowns
With balloons that just got lost
Loosed, to the winds.  I had a few—
Too many and wrote a broke poem,
All alone surrounded by the clank
Of wood from a pole and clicks of levers
As the glistening 'patrons' shimmied their
Tithes to the used machines of *****
Pinned and the green tables pooled
And the women, who desperately looked
At only you, after you looked at them
And the indifferent, tallish Barman,
Who kept pouring smallish dreams
In a shot glass.  I stumbled, swirled out
And kissed the tar as was my want,
Every newcomer slogging in
Simply ran with not even noticing,
As I laid on the ground, they knew
That their time was soon coming.
That's called simpatico, or is it
Solidarity, maybe, whatever?
Anywho, I dusted my self off
And hightailed it back home
Before the broad, my old lady,
Jezebel, caught me on the sly.
The 'Queen of Sheba' was already
There— prostrated on our bed
Waiting to nail me.  My only excuse,
The muses— she wasn't buying,
I said baby, 'I ain't tryin' to sell
You no lie.  The words, they come
And they go, like a train that never stops
But you best be going, you best be jump in'
On that steel Goliath and ride that son to the gates
Of pearl and peace, them goldilock rays and then I said,
Hush, my little 'rock-a-bye' lady, you shush now,
My fresh night moon of Lilly flower, we's gonna
Make like nubile creatures, all naked and free,
There ain't no clocks little darling, there's
Just you an' me and all the rest of herstory,'
She bought that line!
Ormond Nov 2014
Late night at the Bar,
The neon sign said time to go,
Funny, when I got there it was all
Welcoming and overenthusiastic,
Garish, like a parade of clowns
With balloons that just got lost
Loosed, to the winds.  I had a few—
Too many and wrote a broke poem,
All alone surrounded by the clank
Of wood from a pole and clicks of levers
As the glistening 'patrons' shimmied their
Tithes to the used machines of *****
Pinned and the green tables pooled
And the women, who desperately looked
At only you, after you looked at them
And the indifferent, tallish Barman,
Who kept pouring smallish dreams
In a shot glass.  I stumbled, swirled out
And kissed the tar as was my want,
Every newcomer slogging in
Simply ran with not even noticing,
As I laid on the ground, they knew
That their time was soon coming.
That's called simpatico, or is it
Solidarity, maybe, whatever?
Anywho, I dusted my self off
And hightailed it back home
Before the broad, my old lady,
Jezebel, caught me on the sly.
The 'Queen of Sheba' was already
There— prostrated on our bed
Waiting to nail me.  My only excuse,
The muses— she wasn't buying,
I said baby, 'I ain't tryin' to sell
You no lie.  The words, they come
And they go, like a train that never stops
But you bestbe going, you best be jump in'
On that steel Goliath and ride that son to the gates
Of pearl and peace, them goldilock rays and then I said,
Hush, my little 'rock-a-bye' lady, you shush now,
My fresh night moon of lilly flower, we's gonna
Make like nubile creatures, all naked and free,
There ain't no clocks little darling, there's
Just you an' me and all the rest of herstory,'
She bought that line!

— The End —