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 Apr 2015 Zigmaz F
Luna
Truth
 Apr 2015 Zigmaz F
Luna
The truth may be dark
But it is also beautiful
Tell her what has been taken
Is being given a better life
Tell her what has gone
Is coming back in a different form
Tell her the tears she was shedding
Won’t go away
It’s saturating new souls
To blossom again in her life
© Copyrighted
Abdullah Ayyash
April 20th, 2015
 Apr 2015 Zigmaz F
Jeremy Duff
I know back roads and bonfires.
I know pine trees and rivers.
I know parking lots and cigarettes.
I know trailers and trailblazers.

The day I was born I was wrapped in dust,
it coated my skin and made me sneeze.
I was laid down on a bed of dust and my nose began to bleed, it hasn't stopped.

In school we'd throw a tennis ball against a wall, we'd run through the field, we didn't have swings, we didn't have a soccer ball.
We read from dusty books, we inhaled the words and dust alike.

In high school we drove fast down back roads. We drank beer and started a fire. We swam in the rivers and smoked doobies on the rocks.
These are the things I know.
I know this small town, I know the people in it, I know the trees and I know the back roads.
I don't know heartbreak.
I don't know alcoholism.
I don't know anything that is not covered in dust, I don't know anything beyond this valley.
Darling, Do you think of me when you **** her?
© JLB
21/04/2015
00:43 BST
 Apr 2015 Zigmaz F
Robert Service
Of ***** friends I've had but seven,
Despite my years are ripe;
I hope they're now enjoying Heaven,
Although they're not the type;
Nor, candidly, no more am I,
Though overdue to die.

For looking back I see that they
Were weak and wasteful men;
They loved a sultry jest alway,
And women now and then.
They smoked and gambled, ****** and swore,
--Yet no one was a bore.

'Tis strange I took to lads like these,
On whom the good should frown;
Yet all with poetry would please
To wash his wassail down;
Their temples touched the starry way,
But O what feet of clay!

Well, all are dust, of fame bereft;
They bore a cruel cross,
And I, the canny one, am left,--
Yet as I grieve their loss,
I deem, because they loved me well,
They'll welcome me in Hell.
 Apr 2015 Zigmaz F
Walt Whitman
Women sit, or move to and fro—some old, some young;
The young are beautiful—but the old are more beautiful than the young.
 Apr 2015 Zigmaz F
Liz And Lilacs
I ripped open the night sky
to see the mysteries behind the facade.
But the constellations wrinkled
and the moon was torn
the stars winked out
and fell from the sky
and I ruined the beauty
looking for something real.
 Apr 2015 Zigmaz F
Chris
.

.

Reflections on the water
Skies above are blue
Flowers will be blooming
Spring is overdue

Winter it may linger
But soon your eyes will see
Nature will bring warmer days
*To run through happily
Thank you for reading
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