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 Jun 2018 Zabada Zipporah
laura
with respect to your hair man
play with it, been living large
so you ain't got time to cut it
put it in a ponytail that puts mine to shame

it's a little weird talking about your hair
seagulls make a birds nest on it
it's a hair song, sing songs along the cold air
picasso paint it well, redoing the blue three hundred times

police pull ya over because of it
sometimes ya skin color makes it knappy
like the way it settles on my blue jeans
when you rest your head on my lappy
ya got a crush on me && i love ur hair
Many strange things in my time I have seen
What I see now may seem extreme
I sit in the garden by a small bungalow
They both stand together, a cat and a crow.
What I see is an unbelievable sight
The cat walks away, the crow takes flight
I return again the very next day
Together they stand in the very same way.
The cat is at peace and so is the crow
They are both too old, and very slow
The crow it stays in the same oak tree
And the cat can no longer run easily.
So within this garden they both now reside
Weak and feeble, yet still alive.
Maybe they've lost the will to ****
Or simply they both have had their fill.
But there is a lesson that is clear to see
If they can live in peace, so can we.
This is actually is a true story. When I was working in a pensioner's house I saw a cat and a crow on the lawn eating food together. The pensioner told me they seemed to get on but I must say they both looked like they had seen better days.
If I could wake up tomorrow
And be someone new
I’d hope to be someone
That didn’t care about you

A person who wakes up
And smiles at the sun
Not a recluse
That hides from fun

Someone who looks in the mirror
And values themself
Not insecure
Loathing herself

I wish to be someone
Free as a bird
Not someone who cares
What others have heard

But when I wake up
I will still be me
Hoping and wishing
One day I’ll be free
 Sep 2017 Zabada Zipporah
anon
Paper
 Sep 2017 Zabada Zipporah
anon
i fell in love with a boy
who was fragile
like paper

in a way we were paper
together
i was falling apart
he was
sensitive
and vulnerable

this boy wasn't much
he was plain
save for a few typewriter smears
under his saddened eyes
and paperclip wings
adorning his back

we painted on each other

i covered him with strokes
of happiness
distractions
and a sense of
something
he was a brush upon me
reminding me of who we were
and what it meant to
know

he started to fall for me
the girl who was blown over
by a breeze
the girl who
thought eating was a bother
the girl who loved a boy
who was nothing more
than an intangible
whisper

then there we were
holding each other up
when the wind came
and took our painted bodies
ripped his paperclip wings from his back
tore our paper selves into shreds

we were blown into the world
strewn and lost

and apart

under tires
that tread terrible teeth
into our tiny pieces

stamped us into cement
and stole us
from what was

and now here we are
in what is

i can't pick myself up
because i don't know where i am
who i am
and where the paper boy i loved
has gone

out here is a world
where fragile love
and caring hearts
cannot bond
without loss
without being forgotten

just like
the paper boy
who smiled when he saw me
and who painted me into meaning

who saw
something
who
knew
who was
there
but now is
here

is

gone
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