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 May 2020
Bogdan Dragos
the last time he went out of
his mind he liked it
so much there
that he never came back

not even after the
alcohol left
his blood

he keeps writing to this day

addresses women with 'sweangel'
a combination of sweet
and angel, I guess

but never spends more
than a matter of weeks
with any of them

some take pity on him
and some morbid curiosity

but no one loves him
truly
only his insanity
 May 2020
Sarah Mulqueen
Sometimes
I burn a little inside,
The pain
It strikes me, dives right into my core
I smile a little shakily
Talk a little less
So that others don't fear my sadness, offer sympathy on a platter

Sometimes
I need 8 coffee's
Just to start my day
I can't get up with a spring in my step or just pass the time away
My shoulders are tight
My limbs are heavy
I just want to get on with my day

Sometimes
I try with all my might
Still fragile
With a flicker of hope to make it through today
 Apr 2020
Godfrey Amromare
In haste...
Behind
Our footprints
Were the scattered emptiness
Of the memories
Of them
On the shores

She left the three parties of us
Me, Samantha
And our traveler friend

They were play things for sunset fares,
She said.

Just yesterday
They were happy to be here
The young flowers now scattered about
This beach shore
Too young to be plucked
Happy to grow up into one party of laughter!

That's how we remember they were here
That's how to plant graveside flowers
For the dead
They were play things for sunset fares

They were not soldiers
They were unprotected women
They were not warriors
They were unfed afraid Biafran children  

That's how to plant graveside flowers
That's how we have kept them forever
In our hearts
That's how we actualize Biafra.
This poem is a remembrance piece for the more than three million civilians, most of them children who died of starvation in Biafra land as a result of the blockade policy which the Federal side adopted to cut off the secessionist's supplies during the civil war which lasted in Nigeria from 1967 - 1970. It would be recalled that the Nigerian foremost poet, Christopher Okigbo also was lost to that tragic war. It is to Okigbo, the more than a million starved dead children, the women, everybody else that was the sacrifice red water of the secessionist nation this art is crafted. Amen.
 Apr 2020
Godfrey Amromare
“There is a great mighty fire that burns in every heart.'
Said the old man.
'Let it out.
Burn your soul freely in-
to the coming night.”

'There is a little,  however little
child of laughter Interred
In every sad smile.'
said the old man.
'Let it out
Laugh out a'loud
Smile proudly,
For there is a gift you won't always have!”

“Now...

Said  he to me,

“Now borrow a bright-lit smile from every daylight
And learn to laugh
as the rumble of  a shattering thunder
For life is a gift you won't always have! '

He turned around and went his way.
I never saw him again.
It was a night dream
In my 11 and 45 a.m.

I lay there,
broken, AWAKE In some transfixed  wonderment!
 Apr 2020
Bogdan Dragos
but that handle was made for his hand
hand - handle
handle - hand

the fingers would close
around it to never let go
It had to have flesh around it
at all times
But the blade...
the blade was still naked. He couldn't let
the blade naked
It wasn't fair

"So that's why you stabbed your
mommy then?" the psychiatrist asked him.

"Yes," he said.

"The knife is more important
to you than mommy?"

"The knife listens. Mommy doesn't."
 Apr 2020
Thomas W Case
Chain smoking sadness, slapped by time.
Winter doesn't freeze the pain.
There was one thing that
Mom wanted more than
anything else in the world:
It was to have a
picture of her
seven kids all together,
in one place,
at one time.
There was an age
difference of
23 years between the
youngest to the oldest,
and 1000 miles separating us.

In December of 1987
two weeks before Christmas,
I held a picture of
the seven of us all together.
I put it in the
right front pocket of
her navy blue blazer.
After the funeral,
we buried her with it.
 Apr 2020
Jen
You had
To go
Through
It all
So you
Could
Become
Who you are
Today
 Mar 2020
J Robert Fallon III
Time is tragically still
and the air is frigid.

I've now begun to settle from my past state
of pure livid,
anger I can't live with.

With the mastering of calm and meditative breathing
the stress melts away.
I'm constantly watching it slowly decay.

Control back on my side
as I suddenly feel
the odd sensation of content inside.

Coping and alive,
and somehow,
still,
I thrive.
 Mar 2020
J Robert Fallon III
As endless currents and swells
take on the sea in peace,
humanity seeks such power.

If humanity could consume such salty power
we would view it as ours, with full intent to make it ours.

Humanity would leave endless scars.

Drink the power,
no clue how far,
but it's ours.

How wrong we are,
as we've already gone this far.
Mother Nature always fights with a vengeance.

Humans aren't among the stars,
we're still so far.

The balancing of Nature us inevitable
and always leaves behind authentic scars.
 Mar 2020
Thomas W Case
She worries about
everything;
real and imagined.
"What if this?  What if that?"
I watched my
Mom
worry herself right
into the
grave one disastrous
December night.
My girlfriend doesn't care.
She wants me to
worry right along
with her.
And when I don't,
she gets angry.
My Dad used to say,
"They can **** us,
but they can't eat us."
I share this with her.
Nothing!
Just
worry, worry, worry.
"
Worry changes nothing.
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