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Keys speak letters but not words
And sentences don’t make paragraphs but full stops end.
Stanzas stall and commas halt, but
Sometimes there’s just nothing to say.
But sometimes nothing blurts everything
And everything sometimes says nothing at all
Because that ampersand always sits there
But never leads to a paragraph
Or a verse
Or anything
Because every time. There’s just nothing to say.
Today is July 4, 2020. There is not much to celebrate. **** Trump leaves us in a Polynicean gloom. Fireworks remind me of wars. I would rather, and therefore will,  listen to Rachmaninov's PIANO CONCERTO NO. 2 tonight.
I will celebrate beauty rather than killing. And I will give thought to Antigone as well, for she willingly gave her life for doing what was right. I shall listen to Yuja **** arpeggiate notes. I will again become fixated both by her light-
ning dexterity and the glorious sounds to which she gives birth. Humankind has this dual potential:  it can either **** or care. So why, I ask myself, does it always choose the former? On this national holiday especially, why do we now not celebrate Thomas Paine and Walt Whitman and Harriet Tubman and Eugene Debs and Martin Luther King Jr.? We do we not collectively ask forgiveness for all the covert, sinister, malevolent interventions into the affairs of other nations, resulting in unjust overthrows and war crimes aplenty? Fireworks? July 4th? We did defeat the evil of ****** and his unspeakable genocide. Let us be sure to give unending thanks to all those who lost their lives in this moral victory. But Viet Nam? The lives of 58,000 American soldiers lost for the lies of our leaders? And Kissinger and McNamara and the Bushes and Cheney and so many others in our government never held accountable for their war crimes? And yet tonight we have fireworks instead of Nuremberg-like trials. Antigone knew she would die if she buried her brother, Polynices, and yet she went ahead and buried him and died for doing it. And the 4,000,000 blacks who were slaves in 1861 and the 500 indigenous nations that covered for centuries from sea to shining sea what we now call America--did they have anything to celebrate on this day, on this date? Fireworks, that's all.

Copyright 2020 Tod Howard Hawks
A graduate of Andover and Columbia College, Columbia University, Tod Howard Hawks has been a poet, a novelist, and a human-rights advocate his entire adult life.
Wyatt Jun 3
I’m not ok,
this has been established.
I haven’t been for awhile
and I don’t really know
when I will be ok again.
But with you, it's different.
No, not a specific “you”.
“You” is meant plural.
I’m speaking of all of you.
During such scary days
I find myself always
thinking more about you
than I do for myself.
I think about your day
because I’d rather not
remember my own.
I think about
your reason to smile
because I don’t
really have one.
I hope that smile
is wider than normal
and you ended up
showing some teeth.
I think of moments when
you may have been sad,
hurt or really distraught
and I root for you in my head.
“You can do it!”, I’ll say.
I may not be right now,
but I hope you’re ok.
Hang on.
I don’t think you realize just how much you mean to me, and my biggest fear is that you never will.
hannah Oct 2019
The reddish tinge in your eyes
Betrays your mouth
Overflowing with words
Like bitter sweet champagne
I now your name
Now
That I'm awake
Woken from a dream
Where you were perfect
And I was weak
Part two.
Colm Oct 2019
In mind a young mans fortune told
His sky colored and emboldened by light

Though the story is winding like a forest old
Falling into complexity at every summers end

It's in discovery And time
Which you are found

Lest I find
That I loved not you but this image of mine
He named her and I couldn't help but laugh, at his lack of a tangible definition.
Words' Worth Aug 2019
Sleepless as I am
The nights keep me awake
Like magnets
Disperse, diversity and patient.
The paramagnetic properties.
Make it possible to assimilate these materials in electric relief.
Called love.
hazem al jaber Aug 2019
You're not alone ...


you're  not in a good mood ..
stuck in memory of those days ...
desiring and craving to those days ......
feel as you got lost ...
no baby ...
here I am, baby ...
i'm here for you again ...
to bring back those days ..
Yeah ..
let's get back the days of love ..
and live the most beautiful lust  ..
yes darling ..
I am with you ...
and you're not alone ...
come baby  ...
let us together ...
get back ...
those days ..
days of love ...
and feeling''s lust ...
we deserve to do ...
to live our love ...
with no fear ...

sweetheart ...
you're not alone ...
i'm always here ...
here only for you ...

come baby back ...
it's our love ...
let's save this love ...
let's feel together now ...
our Feeling's lust  ...
as we did before ...

good morning ...

hazem al ..
hannah Aug 2019
Please write back
I can't save you
Until Wednesday
But please write
I still have dreams
About seeing you
Sometimes
And it breaks me
I saw you last night
At a Panic! concert
You were hurting
Even there
My mind is reaching out
But I don't think
I can reach you
This time
It's been thirteen days
And I swear
I'll never stop thinking
About your purple hair
And your bands tees
All the reasons
I gave you my number
To begin with
I want to sing to you
With my awful voice
To make you laugh
To draw on your hand
Is all I need
You're beautiful
And funny
And I'm nothing
If not a cliche
I guess that's okay
As long as you are
Still with me somewhere
Things aren't easy but I'm starting to look forward again.
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