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  Nov 2016 Tammy M Darby
Rai
The ever optimistic fool sits with sapphire teals rolling frantically from eyes which see too much
The heart that has been torn, tread upon and dragged in the dust can not bare the burden
So it rips apart,spilling it's ragged contents Into the gutter
There is nowhere left to run and your not really sure there's a need to leave
But a return back from this pessimism would be a delightful notion
As thoughts twist and turn
Like a never ending last spin on your noisy washer
Faster, more fragmented, frantic and free
The land has been freshly ploughed
The arguments are over
You have used your voice so as not to be seen as invisible
You may have spilled it all and god knows where we go from here
But it's certain that we will take not a step backwards in our endevour to be heard
Scratch an itch and it will get bigger
Keep picking at my scars and I will not be able to give you my free thinking happy mask that I manage to wear so well
So well indeed that I truly forgot this part of me ever existed
To stand upon the highest hill in the middle of a storm that could match my own
To meet my match in natures force
This alone will help me sleep
The dreams are so haunting
And I'm drowning in the neglectful thoughtlessness of  clowns
  Nov 2016 Tammy M Darby
John Hawkins
The leaves crunch below
the weight of her frail,
thin frame.
I have never seen such freedom;
an expression of which this seems the epitome of.
Goose pimples rising on my arms and neck
in acknowledgment of the fractal quality of beauty
within this finite reality.
  Nov 2016 Tammy M Darby
Quettevio
tell them about our first meeting and how you told me i had you at hello. tell them that you saw the wall surrounding me and how I foolishly let you in. tell them about the meetings between traffic lights and wrapped sandwiches. tell them about how I held onto you like I’ve never seen hope before. tell them i used to call you home. tell them you were once every story in my head.

tell them how you were always my first when i was only your second best. tell them how you broke me when i thought i couldn't be more broken than i already was. tell them how I believed you and how you deceived me. tell them about how you told me your favorite colour was white, and how I thought how lovely it was, never realized that it was also the color of your lie when you promised me you will stay.

tell them, you old, sick joke, that for once I thought you loved me.

tell them, and they will know that these rummaging, angry, raging, words are all about you. they will know I pour every scar you’ve left into these words, these last words I pull for you. they will know you were both the hero and the villain. they will know I was a damsel in distress who saved herself. they will know I survived. I always will.
  Nov 2016 Tammy M Darby
N
Running through empty streets,
chasing dreams
and resurrecting hope. The faint smell
of troubled youth is carried by
a strangely cold November breeze
from a baker's window--

Cinnamon and ***

Somewhere in the corner where the buses
stop there are children drawing
rainbows and flowers
on the rough asphalt, innocently trying
to make each other crack a smile

Somewhere along the shore stands an old,
longing man picturing his wife
knee-deep in the water,
soft and beautiful as ever and
he is losing patience waiting for their reunion

Three blocks away from the chapel
some anxious fourteen-year-old is
blasting Polarize,
wanting to be a better brother, better son

His mom yells it's too loud and he covers
his face with a pillow

In the distance you will hear bottles
breaking along with the hearts
offered but ignored

There's a tapping of restless fingers on
the keyboard by a woman finally finding
the right words to say to someone
who gave up on life too soon
but as the clock strikes 3 she realizes
it's already too late.
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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MiPBQJq49xk
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