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Delyla Nunez Aug 2020
I could plainly tell you what I’m saying.
I’m screaming in my head for you to know what I’m saying, yet it’s never enough.
My words could be a simple as learning how to write. Voicing your thoughts onto paper and making them into words.
I could be in my bed crying myself to sleep and only to wake up with our call dropped.
I’m still hurting and I’m tired, you don’t make it easier for me; even though you couldn’t since you are you.
It’s all a ******* lie, no matter how hard I am trying, no matter what I do. It wouldn’t be enough. Ever.
Kelsey Banerjee Aug 2020
straight, good posture
white and abrasive as baking soda
thrifty, ideal of motherhood
hosting new years parties and other
get-togethers for the kids while sipping,
socially, of course, a margarita,
she buys her children, ruddy-nosed
devils, gifts while their friends stand with empty hands,
letting those other kids,
kids with empty pockets,
sit to the side,
and know their place.

another mother she
drives thirty miles to pick up a daughter’s friend,
male, lanky, and for cops
the wrong color at midnight
from a gas station in the wrong part of town
which is really just code
for poor and less white
and she takes him home to
sleep on the sofa
gives him hot tea
and in the morning pancakes with eggs
she doesn’t ask about the bruises
on his forearms or his heart
she just feeds him and drives him
to the library with a sandwich in old Tupperware
he doesn’t need to return
although he does with a thank-you note
and gratitude in his heart,
despite all the bitterness around him.
Colm Jan 2020
I pray my pen
Flows not with think
But with spirit embodied
As there is more to impress
In the ink of Christ
Than there ever was or will be
In this expression of me
My life is mere reflection in a silver coin. Here one hour. Gone the next. See ya round.
ClawedBeauty101 Jul 2019
It's all Hellos, and No Good Byes
Yes it hurts, but still, I'll try

No more See Ya, only getting Hi
Yes you leave, but still, I ignite
Emotions are gross
And contagious...
Chris Feb 2019
Why do so many people
Write about being tired
Rather than just
going to bed.
Bleeding Doc Feb 2019
Aaj phir se uthai Kalam hath me
Kuch batane ka panno ko dil chahta hai,
Labzo me jo baat keh naa saka
Geet me gungunane ko dil chahta hai |

Kaun kehta hai ki tujh se pyar karte hai log
Bas jarurte puri karte hai log |
Jab tak zinda hai sauhrate hai teri,
Mare **** ko bhi kahan ghar me rakhte hai log |

Na koi hai tera na tu hai kisika
Jo chahe tuje tu ban jaa usi ka
Khel matlab ka duniya ne khela sada hai
Tu bhi hissa usika me bhi hissa usi ka

Jala ke **** ko rakh baha de nadi me
Aisi duniya se chutkara dil chahta hai
Aaj phir se uthai kalam hath me
Kuch batane ka panno ko dil chahta hai |

Yun to chalti rahi jindagi na ruki,
Koi aata raha koi jata raha |
Kayi khel ke dil se mere khilone ki tarah
Dil ko apne har dum behlata raha |

Kisi ne chaha kisi ne toda muje,
Me phir bhi sada muskurata raha |
Kabhi roya kabhi sadme me beh gaya,
Dil ko har baar apne behlata raha |

Badi faramaush hai duniya samaj me gaya,
Fir bhi kisi ko chahne ko dil chahta hai
Aaj phir se uthai Kalam hath me
Kuch batane ka panno ko dil chahta hai |
Abbey Oct 2018
I have never been to Texas.
I have never been to the star-spangled states.
I would like to. One day.
I want to drive along the mobius strip highway,
On the right-side-wrong-side-not-the-left-side of the road in a right side driver seat car.
I’d watch the kilometers miles tick by.
To look to the horizon and see the lone, level lands stretch away into nothingness.
I think that would be pretty great.
I would drive and drive and drive and drive.
I would drive right into the absolute oblivion of a West Texas highway at night.
The stars would be brighter there.
I really like the mountain goats also I cannot figure out how to publish this
SIKE you just use that drop down box huh
Salmabanu Hatim Oct 2018
From the House Of Ali -Najaf to the House Of Hussain-Kerbala,
Swarms of people walk 80kilometres for threes days- united,
The largest peaceful gathering in the world with free services,
An experience like no other.
Blessed are those who walk,
More blessed are those who serve.
No discrimination,
Regardless of sect, profession or social status,
Rich or poor,
Young or old,
Men or women,
In wheel chairs, crutches or with Zimmer frames,
Prams or hand carts,
All march with respect and dignity,
With one thought in mind,
To pay allegiance to Hussain,
Who sacrificed his head for humanity.
Every eye is moist,
Every heart torn in grief,
Chanting"Labbaik Ya Hussain."
With an iron will to complete the walk.
A nation, war-torn, wounded,
Embraces the whole world in the name of Hussain,
The longest dining table,
Where every zuwar is honoured and treated like royalty,
To pay in currency, none,
Only love and kindness and an urge to serve the zuwars.
Along the roadside are set up Mowakebs (tents),
That provide every kind of facilities and amenities ,
Food,beverages medicines,toiletries,
Fresh clothes if need be, shower rooms and toilets,
A massage of your feet,
Services to charge or repair your phone's,zimmer frames or prams,
Anything for the zuwars,
All in the name of the Ahle bayt,
Mohamed,Ali,Fatema,Hassan and Hussain.
What Hussain and his followers were denied is served with outstretched arms,
The aftermath  of Kerbala was more tragic and callous,
The tears of Binte Zainab that retold the tragedy again and again,
Has born fruits,
The zuwars multiply in numbers
every year,
The rewards greater.
Arbaeen is a walk from Najaf to Kerbala where more than 20million participate.It starts on the 40th day after Ashura when Imam Hussain was slaughtered.
(a lighter piece sup *** wit tree)

'm, oh yes mud hum,
     who hoop fully iz zaftig
and/or mister
     Jack Rabbit, whoever wig
gulls or crinkles their nose
     creating a lil whirligig
at this bit of flummery unrig
yule lated impossible

     to make cogent
     and/or tangential with trig
perhaps best red
     after taking a swig
of vintage carrot juice with a sprig
of favorite herb, more'n enough
     to slake thirsting herd
     at the yearly

     Peter Rabbit shindig,
which senseless literary rig
ma roll even Bugs Bunny
     trump petting donned Taj Mahal
     swiftly tailored hare
     reed styled periwig,

     (would turnip his nose),
     button size or overbig,
yet all Joe King aside,
     and please do not think me a ****
excepting (Trix are for kids, eh...?)

this intentional faux paw, an
distress signal tis ideally geared
     for a Unitarian
     herbalist hook can
transform this pro
     fessed human imposter,
     (who in truth got cursed
     as a **** sapien

     by Bunny Foo Foo with elan)
particularly in the guise of Han
nub bull the cannibal,
     (whose unisexual name Jan)
also doubles up

     as my birth month
     dwells in Lan
zing, Michigan, and earns
     keeps employed as a nan

knee, yet experiences inner pan
dumb moan he yum,
     (seized with grippe to dig
     in Farmer Brown's garden), and ran
like the dickens
     all the way to Tran
sill vane ya leaping
     across Atlantic Ocean forced
     to adopt the lifestyle of a Van
dull with razor sharp buck teeth.
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