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 Sep 2016
Pauline Morris
I fear every  tomorrow  
All my life it only brought sorrow

Tragedy on top of tragedy is stacked
I'm spread eagle on life's torture rake

The universe keeps twisting the screws
Will it ever be over,  haven't I paid my dues

Isn't forty years enough suffering
What other catastrophe is out there hovering

I fear the winds of change
Still I feel them just the same

For change has only ever worsened my plight
Agony always takes another bite

Look forward to tomorrow, is what is said
But I only see it in black and red
 Sep 2016
david mungoshi
from the depths of my being
i shout that i shall indeed be king
and forever banish banality
in a move that has finality

the things in my unending quest
are a constant reminder of the test
they tell me my fires to quench
until there's none of that stench

from perched vantage points
that even holy saints would envy
i see this walking and talking bevy
of lovelies selling sweet taunts

and i know it's time to quench a thirst
its time not to demure and come first
that itch that has troubled me long
now makes me feel that i belong

to the bemused new brigade of seekers
the ones who are thinkers but not speakers
they that from afar smell the deep oasis
whenever there's a deepening crisis

so dear life incarnate, dear essence of breath
stand me now and forever in good stead
give me the strained juice that cools my tongue
and thus help me in perpetuity to quench a thirst
 Sep 2016
Larry Schug
A romantic realist such as Thoreau
or a magical realist such as Garcia-Marquez,
unable to fend off fate
or rain
might say to a tree
thank you for allowing me to ****** you
to put a roof over my mortal head.
To which a cynical but congenial tree,
as valuable as a metaphor
as it is as a roof beam, might reply,
that though I, with my brothers and sisters
gave you every breath you’ve ever breathed
you murdered me for momentary expediency
and possess the audacity  
to write your poems on my dead skin.
Well, breathe as long as you can,
you romantic **** ant fool.
I’ll be a roof beam a hundred more years.
You’ll be nothing more than evaporated tears.

Larry Schug
 Sep 2016
Viseract
A mark in time
Up the arm of one
Who forgot a time
When happiness was an everyday factor,
When he didn't need to wear a façade
When people could tolerate his humour
For it was the only way
That he could keep smiling

But it is supposed
That without times of extreme sadness
One would never know
When they were happy

And now these scars...
Every time he looks down
He is disgusted
With himself
Disgusted
With the world

Is it any wonder he wants to burn it all?
Leave an equivalent mark of time
A mark of pain, of untold hurt,
Of malicious torment
Upon the world that inflicted it
Upon him?

I suppose it's no wonder
I wish to engulf this world in flames...
a sadder poem that is not, in fact, hatred. more a resigned and tired kid with no mother he would cry to, no father to lean on. nobody but a couple good friends that he cannot bear to confide in. the internet accepts this better
 Sep 2016
Ramin Ara
Bygone chance
Will never come back ...
 Sep 2016
Mollie Rose Trail
Lavender and sage drift in waves of smoke
soft and subtle like your ebony hair flowing
through my fingers as my lips brushed yours.

Blood rushes to my cheeks and I gasp still-
fever overcoming shock as you touch me,
siren on land waiting for the tide to come in.

Once a hesitant explorer, meekly tracing your
beckoning curves and scars I now salivate-
wet with hunger to devour you inch by inch.

But we are little more than bleached bones,
memories grinding into dust with one foul move
blown away in the wind to feed new life.
 Sep 2016
Lora Lee
Night comes
r
     o l l i
               n g
                 down again
in painted coats
of thick onyx
clouding my vision
as if a brightly-striped
cuttlefish,
                sister of squid
has enveloped me
in its
dark liquid
           sea ink
an opaque vapor
for protection,
a shimmering
            sheild against
disillusionment
pain of potential
         loss
endless strands
of longing
knotting in my
hair like kelp
keeping me rooted
to the sea floor,
feet ensconced in
the soft squish
of muck and earth
Miraculously,
    I breathe,
as if a sea nympth,
a mermaid
holding on to
the silvery scales
of her reality
indigo-dipped
in deepest iridescence
blending with fronds
of vibrant greens
and I am floating
within a vast membrane
     of brine
somehow nuturing,
liquid cushion
of womb-water
letting it slake
the piquancy of thirst
that bursts my tongue
               into succulence
Spiked in sea stars
like thorny crowns,
I reach out to
discover new textures
puncture the dark
with my fingers
enfold those waters
      to me,
letting them
rock the soul
          of my soul
the heart
      of the seed
of my heart
   and allow my
sonar, as powerful
as a whale's
encompassing call
to surge up
through nautical miles
                      of ocean depths,
buoyed through layers
of waves
        up unto
the winds
that ride,
     ever-tenderly,
the surface
    of
       the
    dawn
 Sep 2016
Sally A Bayan
I'd like to cover
our concrete fence
with white paint all over
:::::::::::::::::::
it is right now, choking
with an overgrowth of healthy moss...
i intend to wipe the spreading green
off its surface
:::::::::::::::::::
............it seems too cruel, though,
plucking....scraping....or pulling something
.....away from its habitation,
......................its comfort zone
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
i thought it similar to something
that had happened a long time ago...
..................it left us with no choice,
.........we had to leave the house
where we were born
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
my mother, my siblings and i,
we moved in
....with my aunt and her family,
.....................in a faraway place
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
things weren't the same again
.............after my father died...
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::



Sall­y


Copyright September 15, 2016
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
 Sep 2016
wordvango
somewhere deep came a verse
that startled my universe made me stop
spinning take  notice
of it
made me remember things
that hurt and haunted and were  
deeply buried
it started with the word eternity
and continued
you can't hide from it
it is gonna catch up
eventually
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