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David R Jun 2018
Round about is deep black darkness,
Darker than the blackest night,
Whispering deep 'n dreadful murmurs.
Bird dropped dead in midflight.

Blind and weeping, lifeless attle,
What you see is your own soul,
Burnt and weary from the battle.
Disenchanted from its goal.

In the ash, a spark she smoulders,
Crackling, rasping, wounded warrior,
Briars squeeze her neck and shoulders,
Suffocating in smog-fill'd air.

Deep within stagnating waters,
Crystal-clear elixir tear,
Movement rippling, life astir,
Phoenix rises from the slaughter.

Still she rises, Golden Daughter,
Fears no longer yonder fright,
Strength within from those who fought Her,
Blackest night turned brightest light.
Saturn and Sun
Lorem Ipsum Nov 2017
It doesn’t matter why I was there, where the air is sterile and the sheets sting.
it doesn’t matter that I was hooked up to this thing that buzzed and beeped every time my heart leaped, like a man whose faith tells him:
God's hands are big enough to catch an airplane

or a world,

doesn’t matter that I was curled up like a fist protesting death,
or that every breath was either hard labor or hard time,
or that I’m either always too hot or too cold
it doesn’t matter because my hospital roommate wears star wars pajamas,
and he’s nine years old

His name is Louis

and I don’t have to ask what he’s got, the bald head with the skin and bones frame speaks volumes. The Gameboy and feather pillow booms like, they’re trying to make him feel at home ‘cuase he’s gonna be here a while

I manage a smile the first time I see him and it feels like the biggest lie I’ve ever told.
so I hold my breath
cause I’m thinking any minute now he’s gonna call me on it
I hold my breath
cuase I’m scared of a fifty seven pound boy hooked to a machine, becuase he’s been watching me, and maybe I’ve got him pegged all wrong, like

maybe he’s bionic or some ****.
so I look away.

like I just made eye contact with a gang member who’s got a rap sheet the length of a lecture on dumb mistakes politicians have made. I look away like he’s gonna give me my life back he minute I’ve got something to trade, I **** near pull out my pack and say


Cigarette?

but my fear subsides in the moment I realize Louis is all about show and tell. he’s got everything from a shot gun shell to a crows foot and he can put them all in context like:

See, this is from a shooting range and

see, this is from a weird girl

I watch his hands curl around a cuff link and a tie tack and realize that every nick knack is a treasure and every treasure’s got a story and every time I think I can’t handle more he hits me with another story. says:

See, this is from my father. see, this is from my brother. see, this is from that weird girl. see this is from my mother. it took me two days to figure out that

that weird girl, is his sister.

took him about two hours today after she left for him to figure out he missed her.

they visit every day and stay well passed visiting hours. because for them that term doesn’t apply. but when they do leave Louis and I are left alone and he says the worst part about being sick is you get all the free ice cream you ask for. and he says the worst part about that is realizing that there’s

nothing more they can do for you. he says:

Ice Cream can’t make every thing ok.

and there’s no easy way of asking and I already know what he’s gonna say, but maybe he just needs to say it so I ask him any way. Are you scared? Louis doesn’t even lower his voice when he says

**** yeah.


I listen to a nine year old boy say the word ****, like he was a thirty year old man with a nose bleed being lowered into a shark tank, he’s got a right to it and if it takes this kid a curse word to help him get through it, I want to teach him to swear like the devil was sitting there taking notes with a pen and a pad but before I can forget that Louis is nine years old he says:

please don’t tell my dad.

he asks me if I believe in angels,

and before I realize I don’t have the heart to tell him, I tell him Not lately, and I just lay there waiting for him to hate me. but he doesn’t know how to, so he never does.

Louis loves like a man who lived in a time before god gave religion to men and left it to them to figure out what hate was.

He never greets me with silence. only smiles. and a patience I’ve never seen in someone who knows they’re dying. and I’m trying so hard not to remind him, I’ll be out of here in a couple of days, smoking cigarettes and taking my life for granted. and he’ll still be planted in this bed like a flower that refuses to grow, I’ve been with him for five days and all I really know is Louis loves to pull feathers out of his pillow, and watch them float to the ground, almost as if he was the philosopher inside of the scientist ready to say that its gravity that’s been getting us down. but the truth is

there’s not enough miracles to go around kid,

and there’s too many people petitioning god for the winning lotto ticket. and for every answered prayer there’s a cricket with arthritis, and the only reason we can’t find answers is the search party didn’t invite us, and Louis right now the crickets have arthritis

so there is no music.

no symphony of nature swelling to crescendos, as if we bent halo’s into melodies that could keep rhythm with the way our hearts beat.
so we must meet silence with the same level of noise that the parents of dying nine year old boys make when they take liberties in talking with heaven. we must shout until we shatter in our own vibrations then let our lives

echo, and grow
echo, and grow
echo, and grow

Grow distant.


grow distant enough to know that as far as our efforts go we don’t always get a reply. but I swear to whatever god I can find in the time I have left I’m gonna remember you kid. gonna tell your story as often as every story you told me, and every time I tell it I’ll say see,

there’s bravery in this world

there’s 6.5 billion people curled up like fists protesting death, but every breath we take has to be given back, a nine year old boy taught me that.

so hold your breath. the same way you’d hold a pen when writing thank you letters on your skin to every tree that gave you that breath to hold.
then let it go. as if you understand something about getting old and having to give back
let it go like a laugh attack in the middle of really good ***

the black eye will be worth it.

because what is your night worth without a story to tell, and why wield a word like worth if you’ve got nothing to sell. people drop pennies down a wishing well as if the cost of a desire is equal to that of a thought. but if you’ve got expectations expect others have bought your exact same dream for the price of the hard work, hang in, hold on mentality, like I accept any challenge so challenge me
like

I’ve brought a knife to this gun fight, but other night I mugged a mountain so bring that **** I’ve had practice.

Louis and I cracked this world wide open and found the prize inside because we never lied to ourselves, never told ourselves it would be easy or undemanding.
so we sing in our own vibration and dare angels to eavesdrop and stop midflight to pluck feathers from their wings and write demands on gods hands

take the time to catch you

so that even if god doesn’t, it wasn’t because we didn’t try.

I don’t often believe in angels, but on the day I left Louis pulled a feather from his pillow and said this is for you,

I half expected him to say

See, this is the first one I grew.

-Shane Koyczan
Shane L. Koyczan is a Canadian spoken word poet, writer, and member of the group Tons of Fun University. He is known for writing about issues like bullying, cancer, death, and eating disorders.(Wikipedia)
brandon nagley Aug 2015
i

I thought I was dying
Tis I was in midflight;
I was rushed out of the window,
A dark haired queen in the night.

ii

Tis none fright
Her in a maria clara gown;
A tawny undertone,
The other cherub's danced around.

iii

As she carried me, in the dark suspense
Ourn spirit's drifted peacefully;
Yellow blanket flower's, amour so immense,
I saweth the pearly gates, as tis she stood next to me.

iv

She let me knoweth
The only way to enter beyond;
Was to promise her loving kinship
As tis I promised mine soul and all.

v

I shalt never breaketh mine vow
To mine asiatic rose, I am quaint endowed;
She gaveth me the golden ticket, for the ivory pass
So I was humbled on mine knee's, thanked God, I kissed her sash.



©Brandon nagley
©Earl Jane dedication/Reyna dedication
©Lonesome poets poetry
loisa fenichell Jan 2014
I. clay and ice

In the bed: sheets white
as a faceless whisper. Think
dark and unwashed hair. Also,
eyes shot with too much blush.

II. eyes

It’s too easy for me
to look into the mirror
when I’m brushing my
teeth. Lips paired with
a dark sigh. Lights bright
as the careful hands
of somebody newly pregnant.  

III. dna

In the evening, I mean
very late at night, often
you are there so split into
two. Get into this bed, then
clench your muscles one
by one like soldiers’ play.
Your arms rest on the windowsill
like smoky moths. It isn’t until
you clasp your hands like a bird
falling midflight that I realize: you
are so much less than our fathers.
My mouth will be resting inside
of your neck but you won’t be
able to hear me begging
like a cancerous womb.
Jazzelle Monae Sep 2016
A traffic light
In the middle of the night
Is the invite
To a midflight
Stop
And the starlight
Of a fallen meteorite
Begins to reunite
Some impolite
Feelings
Because bodies have an appetite
For pure delight
In things that excite
And ignite
A craving
And in hindsight
Wish to be gripped tight
To rewrite
A Goodnight
Without words
2016 © Jazzelle Monae
Kate Deter Mar 2014
The glossy raven-crow perches on the wire,
Its carefully-preened wings glistening
With perfect drops of moisture.
It surveys its domain with coal-black eyes—
Coal-black, but not void, not empty—
Black with all the absorbed knowledge,
The deep black of knowing too much,
The tacit black of the extraterrestrial skies.
The raven-crow omits a sound into the air,
Silent to some, but volumes to others.
The raven-crow spoke directly to the air,
And the air understood the message.
The two share the deeply-seated secret,
So it’s not as much a burden as before.
The sun falls into the embrace
Of the curvature of the Earth.
The raven-crow, having received its cue,
***** its obsidian wings once more,
Sending crystal tears to shatter midflight.
You know you're not the only one
When they all come crashing down, midflight,
You know you're not the only one.
When they're so alone they find a back door out of life.
You know you're not the only one.

We're all grieving,
Lost and bleeding.

All our lives,
We've been waiting
For someone to call our leader.
All your lies,
I'm not believing.
Heaven shine a light down on me.

So afraid to open your eyes, hypnotized.
You know you're not the only one
Never understood this life.
And you're right, I don't deserve
But you know I'm not the only one.

We're all grieving,
Lost and bleeding.

All our lives,
We've been waiting
For someone to call our leader.
All your lies,
I'm not believing.
Heaven shine a light down on me.

Don't look down,
Don't look into the eyes of the world beneath you.
Don't look down, you'll fall down,
You'll become their sacrifice.

Right or wrong.
Can't hold onto the fear that I'm lost without you.
If I can't feel, I'm not mine,
I'm not real.

All our lives,
We've been waiting
For someone to call our leader.
All your lies,
I'm not believing,
Heaven shine a light down on me.
Shara Anderson Feb 2018
Every story begins with an end: a lost love, the end of a war, the end of a friendship. My story begins with the completion of a bracelet. Each charm holds my story- a hope, a wish, a dream, and a story in my heart just waiting to be told….

A butterfly hangs on my wrist-
a constant reminder of my wish-
ugly like a caterpillar, I feel,
to go through metamorphosis I wish.

A home rests on my skin-
a reminder of my dream-
unhappy at home, I long for a change,
A happy home, full of life, I dream.

There is an anchor on this tiny wrist oof mine-
incessantly reminding me
that there is no need to float in the malevolence and dark of the world-
longing to be anchored to the world, I make a dream,
to find something to hold me here is my hope, my dream, my wish.

The moon hangs on my wrist-
an incessant reminder that I am never alone-
afraid in the dark I find myself,
a light in the dark of night is my hope.




A star from the sky dangles on my wrist-
a wish that nary a dream nor a hope can fill-
darkened by my life, I long to change,
to get over my “sickness,”
to be happy, I wish.

A little girl smiles at me every day-
a little boy smiles up next to her-
reminding me that I have eleven years to make up for,
that I have something,
someone worth living for.
A little girl,
a little girl that looks so much like me,
to come back to my baby siblings is my beacon of hope,
my reason to keep on keeping on.

A bass clef remains with me at all times-
a constant reminder that I can and will survive-
disheartened by the life I live, I dream,
the promise I made,
my way to save the day.

A guitar rocks on on my wrist-
a promise to myself-
I can survive, I say,
just like rock ‘n’ roll never dies-
a song for every broken heart, the promise was made
now I must find a way.

I’ve worn my heart on my sleeve one too many times,
so now I wear it on my wrist-
a reminder of my hope, my wish, my dream-
alone with no love I find myself,
to find love is my wish.

A sparrow lies on my wrist in midflight
reminding me that
like a sparrow I can fly
but no matter how hard I try
I cannot touch the sky.

A flower lays next to it
reminding me that
like a flower I can grow
but no matter what I say
I cannot grow alone.

A book is open on my wrist-
an insistent promise of a sweet escape-
longing for a happy ending, I dream
a way to escape is my wish.



A phoenix burns on my wrist-
an incessant reminder of my pain,
a symbol of hope and rebirth,
a reminder that I was born to die,
and I will die to live,
but what’s the point of living life if it just contradicts?
a talisman for my life, I wish,
to rise from the ashes is my dream.

An ancient dragon slumbers on me-
an immortal power,
an unimaginable being,
an indescribable strength,
an unrelenting force.
Useless like a mouse, I feel.
To have strength and power in my life,
a futile quest, I find myself on.

A lock and key keeps my secrets safe,
Hidden on my wrist-
An ancient confession
of a forsaken love,
a lost embrace
from another life,
a forgotten kiss
from an ancient love,
a distant wish,
and a promise I must keep
before I move onto the next life….
Styles Dec 2014
jumped  off the edge
looking for adventure
Found freedom
Midflight
spent the day
falling between miles
Until midnight
landing on a building
And set sights on an empire
Rickey Someone Apr 2019
4/2/2019

To no one do I owe.
With no one do I unite.
If I begin to feel unfit,
To my image I hold.

Somehow I feel it must go.
But I'm gripping so tight,
My fists closed shut.
What do I hold?

I need to know,
Is this alright?
Please tell me what,
But what do I hold?

I fear that tomorrow
Won't be better than tonight,
Is it even possible to let,
Let go of what I hold?

It's not helping my sorrow,
It's not helping my sight.
I feel so inadequate,
Is it useless, what I hold?

It could be so,
That with which all my might-
Not another minute!
Tell me, is it nothing that I hold?

Don't tell me to throw,
All in which I delight.
It's my life, my habit,
All that I hold!

Please, I can't say no,
And return to the light!
It's wrenching my gut,
Still, I must hold!

If this is all to blow,
Away into the night,
Must I forget,
All that I now hold?

God, if you say so,
You know my petty plight,
You see that I am delicate,
Take what I hold!

God, I fear what will follow,
But you overtake my fright,
Please don't quit,
Go! You say to what I hold.

God, you are not slow,
You destroy all that is not right.
God, I can't bear it,
Now, what do I hold?!?

God, I need to grow,
Don't leave me falling in midflight!
I am still so desperate,
Without anything to hold.

Yes, my own ladder was worth zero,
And it's reach to heaven finite.
But now that it's been cut,
There's nothing else to hold.

God, make me your shadow,
I will be your satellite.
The entire time, I must admit,
It was you I needed to hold.

I am no longer hollow,
My future is bright.
With you as my magnet,
And when to you I hold.

And when you I borrow,
You take the spotlight.
I struggle, but humbly take the exit,
Oh, what now do I hold!
The ocean floor is littered with whale bones
Ivory dreams that sink forgotten amongst silt
The fish swim in between ribs like birds flitter through mine
Asphalst graveyards lined with tiny carcasses
Where once survivalists and now just carrion
I saw a signpost for a crematorium and thought of
The way your hand burns against my cheek
Everything on heaven and earth is eaten by sunlight and decay
In the distance there are trees being felled
I hear nothing and so pretend they have not died
But I can feel their groaning bodies, I can feel the axe swing
In my sharp exhale when you put your palm to my knee
If I close my eyes I see the temples that used to stand here
Where once we prayed to Gods and now buy coffee
The prayer on our lips much softer now
But I still feel like a sacrifice when you kiss me
A pyre dream, quick as flame and soft as smoke
Who's dreams do I carry with me in this life?
Who's aching heart do i remember when the wolf howls?
I witnessed birds die midflight and fall by the hundreds
My atoms rocked into memory of their first journey
Spread across a thousand stars that crashed into yours
Became then the fish that was born between whale ribs
How many lives do I carry inside of me?
What histories lie beneath my feet?
Who's bones am I standing on right now?
Who's deaths will fall like ash atop mine?

— The End —