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I am
so in love. with myself
that
when you said you loved me
I thought
I was talking to
myself
I poured myself
inside your cup
pretended to be tea
your lips pursed to the rim
burning kiss
bile churns
you forgot
I'm made of sins
But it doesn’t change
Who you are inside and
Outside.
Why is poetry dying
when we still have the gift?
If we still have water
then we still have a ship.
We can sail to the places
these words take us.
We are still shaken
by the words that make us.
Why should we let poetry die
when there is so much to explore?
If only people read it
and discovered more.
Where are all the friendships
Where is all the trust
All the greed for wealth and power
Have taken them from us
How much can money really buy
What can the power bring
When we leave this world behind
We take with us not a thing
So cherish all your friendships
Don’t be afraid to trust
Then we all can come together
Make the world better for us
I heard the chimes
of iniquitous wind
rush in upon
familial branches bent
in the middle
it sent the smallest stems
adrift
to spiral
as lost sons and daughters
captured in darkness
and forced to bow before
the lightning strikes
of tyranny
For the Mothers of the Disappeared
The inevitable being delayed
and me
being somewhat dismayed
that
what was on the table was less
than the truth,
decide to **** it up
pucker up and wait
for the end.
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