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 Apr 2018
Nessa dieR
We.
You are not                                                              ­                          him,
And I'm not                                                              ­                          her,

                               ­                                                                 ­            those,

the ones that we were before being                                                   us.
You were like that but now                                                                  ­             
You sound a little of                                                               ­            me.
    I was like that but now                                                                  ­        

I come a little from                                                             ­               you.
 Apr 2018
Julian Delia
Analyse –
The difficulty which one finds in this rat race,
Attempting to materialise
Food in one’s belly
Electricity in one’s home,
Hell,
To even HAVE a home.

The state of the world
Isn’t what has made my pen meet this paper today;
It’s us I’m concerned about.
Hard-wired to be social creatures,
We ignore these features
Our lives focused on money,
Not enjoying each other’s company
Not even when the sky is blue and sunny.

And,
Worst of all,
There is the great truth –
‘Behind every great fortune there lies a great crime.’
This is not to say
That every rich man or woman
Should never see the light of day,
But, it is undeniable
That overreaching influence and concentrated wealth
Are unjustifiable
When we live in a world that fits all of us.
The worst part about being poor
Is the isolation, it’s your heart
Travelling alone, one with the moor.
So many missed good times
So many lost communication lines –
All caused
By this stratification
This intolerable alienation
This algorithmic separation
Of human beings.

Do you know
What it feels like
To ration things you need
To feel grateful for every sip of water,
Every **** of ****?
Dying on the inside
Every time someone asks
‘What are you doing tonight?’
Tonight
I will be trying to traverse this never-ending tunnel
Attempting to reach the light
At the end of it.
Tonight
I will be trying
To keep myself together
Without letting all this weight crush my soul.

If we are to base our society
Our everyday life
On the concept of wealth
Then we must preserve our health
We must ensure
That not only one or two families in every hundred
Are able to survive and endure,
But all of us.

This lack of balance
This Roman phalanx
Of men and women in mass unison
Working and toiling
Hours upon hours of labour
All attempting to obtain favour
With their masters –
For what reason?
I would rather get hung for treason
Than work for someone else.
I am tired of being sore
At the end of the week
Unable to obtain the stability I seek
Simply because the pyramid scheme
Demands it to be so.

I am a kindred spirit
With all the revolutionaries of the world
The divergent, the insurgent
The activist protecting his country from business interests.
On some days, I lose hope
On some days, I can barely cope
Because there’s so much to deal with –
So on those days
When loneliness and poverty mix together like a lethal cocktail
The tree of knowledge I shall hail,
Its flowers I shall consume,
Its co-evolution with man I shall exhume.
Happy 4/20.
 Apr 2018
GaryFairy
when I feel the world on my back
it's like carrying a boulder
when an angel can't take away
the devil on my shoulder

the light only goes skin deep
in the eyes of this beholder
the darkness will always seep
the darker, the colder

I wake up in a shivering sweat
I feel like a wounded soldier
friendly fire can never ****
the devil on my shoulder

#bipolar #mentaldisorder  #insanity
My lie is i told i never wished your mine
I lied when i said time passes by and i dont think of you
Its hard to be true
When your sad i feel blue
It torments me not being honest to you
Its like i am a rotten fruit that you cant chew
I think my time is due
To tell you what is true
I wash my tears everytime i hurt you
If the sea was the only thing to describe my love for you
Then i choose the sky and glaxies that surrounds me and you
I wish my body would rot but my heart stays next to you
They say love is a fantasy game
Well its the oxygen for the flame
Its the water to the grain
It may cause you to cut your own vein
In order for the other heart to live instead
This all i can give before i get burried for dead
 Apr 2018
SøułSurvivør
My face is full of laughter
My eyes are dried of tears
But there's fine print
You must read
Burned there from
All the years.

My cheeks are red & rosey
My lips turned up in smiles
But there are lines
Of grief and pain
From walking many miles.

Please take me at face value
For I laugh... I'm laughing still!
But I've endured
Much hardship
For it was God's will.

But if I had not suffered
This peace I'd not enjoy
If I had not known sorrow
I would not fathom Joy!

See the fine print on my face
Those lines that I do wear
Read wisdom in
My countenance
Yes, it is written there.

To every man or woman
Who have known this part
You may have lines
Upon your face

But beauty's in your heart!


SøułSurvivør
4/20/2018
Inspired by Midnight Sun's wallpaper photo. Thank you, my new friend!
 Apr 2018
r
I visualize you
who I will never know,
Constant Stranger
I call you, I imagine
you when I write
and to think, you
will never know me
like the few who
I am close to, those
who say: I don't
understand what you
are talking about,
but I know what you
mean...you know
there is no other poet
on earth like me
and I know there is
no other poem in the uni-
verse just like you
and every two folks
have there own way
of loving, the poet
and the poem know
what they like, like
the kind that takes us
into different and strange
countries until we realize
at midnight, we are alone,
you and I, Constant Stranger,
anonymous mates whose love
can never be consummated.
This poem speaks of love between the poet and the poem not yet written, but wanted in the way we find ourselves wanting that anonymous, perfect lover somewhere out there in the uni-
verse.  Or something like that.  You may not understand what I'm saying, but I hope you know what I mean, Constant Strangers, poets and poems all, friends in our uni-verse, write me that perfect pome.
Don't ever get down at Remount Road
on the train's brief pause.

Once I couldn't resist
when through the window
I can't say what beckoned me.

The sky after a drizzle was awashed blue
and its miniature carvings on the puddles
sprung from my steps like thousand dreams.

There on the unshaded platform
were faces as puzzled as mine.

I didn't intend to detrain here, I spoke,
we didn't too, the voices echoed
but it felt so like the place
we wanted to be but missed.

Walk me barefoot on the sodden earth,
a girl offered her hand,
recount to me the unfinished stories,
make me a home.

I won't miss this time,
I was crying.

I have recounted the story to many
but they all have eyed me
like I am mad.

They only repeat there's no Remount Road
on this route.
 Apr 2018
L B
I hadn’t meant to spy
just an evening’s walk along the beach
knowing that things are sometimes strewn there after storms
between a gust of wind—a break in clouds

Coming upon moonlight
gleaming on wet teenage backs
Two—
by a leaning erosion fence
fondling the last discoveries of childhood
fumbling with the barriers of her bikini
behind the erosion fence
out of sight and forbidding

Breeding like sea grass by rhizomes
prowling that neck, those *******
Gasping! Warring!
for the land of white warmth below their tans
His hands grip, lift, position, insist
By such undertow
mouths and hips pinioned in disbelief...

where they cannot be seen
two half-rounds in rhythm – struggle in the surge of being

as the surf binds them in refrains
about the ankles
Needing the ocean again.
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