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Barton D Smock Apr 2015
the give in my tooth makes me think my father has two left hands.

the give
in my brother’s
brings me
to the tree
that took
his last.  to that day

he sang
god is glove
to the hose
that broke
my mother.  I am at the end of my blood.  

there’s a rareness

to him
not many
see.
Abhi Beeharry Oct 2018
Ever wondered why people commit suicide?
Well, maybe they don’t get the chance to express themselves, prove themselves about how good they are.
Maybe they don’t get the love they desire!
Maybe to evade fingers of blame!
So many things tormenting their mind which they got nobody to share with.
Cowardice has nothing to do with it!
Suicide takes considerable courage.
Beautiful words describe nothing but misery

After all, we are the scenarist of our own life
Never lose hope !
chaouki Jul 2019
what do you see in tunisia's future? we always get asked that in a denial of our present.
i don't like that concept for me not to fill up my mind with more stressful thoughts.
is the present not satisfying enough for us to travel further to the future?
i see myself as a dancer, a guitarist, a pianist, a scenarist, a writer and an active thinking and responsible intellectual.
however these are no good concerning these unsatisfying conditions.
how do i see myself in the future? more precisely in tunisia's future.
i'm certain i'd be exactly one of those mindless spinless creatures guided by money and lust, having those peaceful moments at night when i think twice about what i used to do.
i wouldn't relate to anyone of my future enviroment and no one will look or sound the same in a denial that we are all suffering inside.
unsatisfied we lay down and believe the lies we tell ourselves.
i see those herds of zombies heading to their office, to their jobs, thinking about the tasks they were ordered to do.
creating another generation of dead walkers.
same way we were raised, we'll also raise our kids.
i see trees falling down in the future, animals being deprived of the freedom we had when we were young impeccable and cleanheaded.
with every fallen leaf, we made a decision we regret.
one more reason to grief.
the future is relative, my thoughts are negative.
in the near sorrowful future i already feel neglected, we'll all feel rejected.
from a deadly society, we're headed to a deadlier one.
to the ironic anti-social society.
in the future, inside an estuary of waste, i fix my eyesight up to the industrial foggy sky seeking a tiny glimpse of the stars, praying to escape this monstrocity.
my childish imagination creates this spaceship that lands right infront of my thoughts.
i prepare my answers knowing that these extraterrestrials are gonna quention our existence.
the image blurrs and the aliens fade away, "run" i'd say "leave, don't be a victim of this cruel globe"
i pity whoever joins us humans,
us humans, us tunisians, we'll be known by overlooking the valuable bonds.
friendship love and affection, wouldn't be holy and true anymore. would be just another ficiton written on pages, forgotten through the ages.
at a similar time, in a similar situation, hypocrisy would be contagious, trust would only be a part of our imagination,
thrown away by inhuman archers, i would rather die than to join those emotionaless marchers.
to all my future surrounders, admire, forgive, love, give, for the damaged souls.
enjoy, live, hurt, heal, close the slits cut open by the ruthless life knife, but try not to to relive.
stranger May 2022
fatalism și reavăn.
reavăn și fatalism.
n-am mai scris,
n-am mai scris.
mi-a mers gura prea puțin și acum mi-e capu-n groapă.
mă soarbe Oltul ?
Rămân o cruce ortodoxă, stingheră pe marginea drumului, îndoită de mașini în depășire.
reavăn... e reavăn după ploaie și îmi intră în vene.
fatalism slav și decăderea omului, cui i-am mai dat urechile mele?
asta nu sunt eu aici,
nu eu aud, nu eu simt.
ace și mâini atinse, drumuri scurse, reavăn și fatalism.
da n-am mai scris!
nu, nu, pentru că nu ***!
nu în București, nu în tramvai, nu in scaunul din dreapta, nu cu mâna lui tata strânsă pe volan, nu cu piciorul scuturându-mi în spital.
un chist pe ovar, un folicul hormonal habar n-am;tot e un reavăn tot e fatalism și eu iar n-am scris.
poate că nu mai am de ce.
viața e film destul nu mai are nevoie de scenarist, viața m-a depășit uite, e self-sustaining!
Tata a zis că i-am frânt inima când i-am zis să mă ia acasă la 2 ani, ce isteric.
Nu mai vreau să aud, nu mai vreau să simt atât de greu din cer curgându-mi la tălpi,
rămân reavăn și fatalism și nu mai scriu nimic, nimic.
reavăn sărută buzele astea - petale de iris lăsate în soare!
reavăn, reavăn sărută trupul ăsta și mintea ce duc oriunde în nicăieri!
reavăn, sărută fatalismul ăsta infantil și torturat și dă-mi înapoi tot ce a fost și poate fi eu!

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