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 Apr 2021
Francie Lynch
I was told if I ate worms,
I could fly.
Ever since, I've stepped over sun-baked sidewalk worms.
I recall eating an orchard apple from the ground.
That didn't end well.
Rockwell suggested frying them.
Hamlet punned about worms travelling through a King.
Don't be called a worm.
Don't worm your way in,
You'll likely find a hook.
I'm forever grounded.
The worm hasn't turned.
Thomas Rockwell wrote How to Eat Fried Worms.
 Apr 2020
a poet gray
These are the things often only heard in
Dreams, these are the unseen,
These are the songs of those who ride
On waves of wind without wings
I love you,
Love like there were never any stars.
when time was ours,
The tides of eager rushing
Blood pressing its way through
Our veins, oh oh they roar
The great stars name!
Oh what glorious light!
How it's holds the day
Like a beat in its heart.
I hope you know
I wanted you for life
Even though home,
is where, you won't come.
So now the days just die,
And life just falls from the clock,
The clouds grow thicker,
And it is my sickened heart
That withers under the pressure
of its own beating,
the quietus revealing an unfamiliar reasoning,
its pummeling force
tumbling down the vacant isles
behind my souls own cage,
of bones, of flesh,
soaked and staind with
time;
and the deep from the blue ,
wearily sleeps within
the storms womb waiting
to roar apart from the mind,
then it will be done,
i will only be
adrift, among embers and carcasses,
of steel and brick,
a city falling,
it's shattered windows,
awake where the end
goes forward with time,
windows give only
height to the sight of their reach;
a path as jagged and daunting as
its lightning's spine,
the fingertips, as well the vine,
outstretched
 Apr 2020
Carlo C Gomez
At swim,
girl waits with gun.
She's a half-formed thing,
having entered into it
motherless.
The fault in our stars,
the night sky with exit wounds,
is left to the grace of
a god of such small things:

fabulous disarray,
perilous notions.

It's a common tale
in tragic literature,
but here it now floats.
The red tide washing
back onto shore
as granules of sugar,
sweet as petrified honey
in the hallowed out trees:

in which we begin
to not understand.

The sea breaks its back,
lingering like the wet gossamer
of her nightdress,
covered with the scent
of stillbirth,
and the illimitable
shut-in trials:

they arrive in waves,
she weeps every time they're "borne."
 Mar 2020
Babu kandula
"Best is the most
Seductive word"

I ever want to hear

Well without knowing what's the worst
You can't be any better

Without repairing your worst behavior

You are nothing but a known worse

In the disguise of a best makeup
 Mar 2020
Francie Lynch
The Receptionist's counter is too close to the forever waiting room.
The Nexts are trying their patient penances;
Some seem to read;
Others appear to listen to the television;
There's no dialogue,
Except for the Dr.'s assistant,
And, the Receptionist.
Any conversation would be idle,  and not heard anyway.
They sit on pins, listening for their names.
Super Tuesday held no kryptonite for Super Joe, remarked the talking head.

The Dr. will see you in three years.
I fist pump and spin to leave,
Seeing a blur of corralled, bowed, preoccupied heads.
A frail face lifted up, and smiled for me.
Happy for me.
Truly the best medicine.
 Dec 2019
Babu kandula
You shine
When it's
Your time

But, it's your
Will that can
Grab the opportunity

Sharpen your tools
With the power of mind
Taking help of friends
Peace and calm

Glory is in you
Glory around you
Keep it close
 Sep 2019
Babu kandula
Given a situation

Let's forget about trust

People find it very hard to

Understand they are taking
Things granted

Results are part of hard work

Failure is a different thing

But, just delay in success

They expect your head on a spike

This is a modern crucifixion

And victims are mostly innocents
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