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 Feb 2015 Yael Ellie Eker
Miriam
someday someone out there is going to look at you like you’re made of stardust and will love you as if it's what they were born to do.

wait for it.
 Feb 2015 Yael Ellie Eker
Paulina
you asked her to stay
but in return you heard a howl
you looked up and there she was
eternally fleeting
perpetually out of grasp
for you were an anchor and she was a kite
she wouldnt stay but she always came back
for she is the wind
and you the earth.
 Feb 2015 Yael Ellie Eker
Oberon
i fell asleep
to your ticking bomb
of a heart
as you run your
cold metal rings
and weak skinny hands
through my hair
drenched with midsummer rain
you warm me with
whispers of
sweet nothings
empty promises of
happy endings
and a summer home
on top of a hill
you ever so lovingly
inject my veins
with a surge of life
enveloping my flesh
heat of your being

in my dream
the bitter cold air
contrast
the undying sparks
your skin against mine
enclosed by the safety of
four sand colored walls
thirteen feet tall
and wordless exchanges of
our favourite
three-word sentence
my now empty shell
is bound to crack
the moment i look
into your eyes
my trembling hand
intertwined with yours
i silently scream
my desperate pleas

to God
who is ever so lightly
loaning you borrowed time
when angels only deserve
tomorrows made certain
eternity pronounced
forever promised
the ticking clock
a sound i came to hate
as it serves as
our sailboat
drifting us
away to
withering magnolias
trees becoming bare
on sad empty boulevards
as winter called
upon growing fear of
taking one last breath
and not taking one
at all

my consciousness struck
a runaway train
found its way to my
winding track of a mind
my head still
soundly pressed against
your ticking time bomb of a heart
the ballad of our approaching farewell
its coda drawing near
it brings me to my knees
how a dying soul
can make me feel
so **** alive
"love takes hostages. it gets inside you. it eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness."
 Feb 2015 Yael Ellie Eker
KA
The dream passes,
kids and images of love lost,
the hope and potential lost.
giving yourself away,
the manipulation and control,
your self inflicted participation,
to wake up and have enough.
decided to be you,
perfect you,
ridiculed but free.
Free to be you.
Free to dream your dream.
They say that no two snowflakes are alike.
Yet, in theory, they are the same.
So many different types of people today
Yet we are all created equally.
White bullets piercing black skin
Black hands abusing white men
Small as a peanut, Big as a giant,
We're all the same size
If you're looking down at us from the sky
Red black or orange, Yellow or white
We all look the same When we turn off the light.
So maybe the way To make everything right
Is for God to just reach out, And turn off the light!
Atheist hate Christians, yet all love football
Such commonality yet they continue to fight
The rich are so poor, with all the luxuries of life
The poor are so rich in hatred and strife
Democrats want control, republicans want them to go
if all says yes, who will stand up to say no
Muslims have their ways,  but their religion doesn't make them vain
Christians aren't any better, for both make mistakes day by day.
Some things in this world might not make sense
like people on welfare getting money from taxes and the rich
What people fail to realize is that we all have a purpose
we all depend on someone, thought they aren't the same as us.
Business people need someone to flip their burgers
Police wouldn't have a job without a law breaker
We all are created bleeding the same blood
The world would be a lot better...were it filled with more Love

WorldofTyrell
Don't tell me
to get used to disappointment—
that my hopes should always
stay close to the ground.
Because defeat
doesn't complement my complexion.
But if you insist upon saying it,
pass me my lipstick.
Just like Ms. Molly Ringwald,
I'll apply that **** with no hands—
a wet, slick shade of red that reads
with confidence and promise.
And just before I slow kiss
the half-empties from your lips,
I'll slip something half full
into your pocket.
Neatly folded, on lined paper,
it will read:

*You see, hope is like having a ****.
What’s the point in even having it
if you can't manage to get it up once in awhile?
© Bitsy Sanders, January 2015
Congratulations on your 70th Birthday!
I hope you have a really lovely day
Even though, both top and bottom,
You've moulted or turned silver grey.

— The End —