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 Jan 2023
irinia
I left my cigarettes today
the same way you leave the departed
I put them in their tombs of desire
their pain had infected me enough
like an invisible netwok of mold
decomposing dreams
my own

my secret garden  
already planted
my name chosen
my path clear
in their hidden mind
I had to love them all:
and I will, always
with quiet ardor,
adoration, gratitude

my secret garden a jungle
of emptiness
denied tenderness
never spoken words of love
terrors and longings,
unrequited pain

for so long I've been
my father's mother
in my hidden soul
what has survived
of me
was poetry

no language
complex
no methaphors
no more tears
for this raw truth
the only mother
for me
was poetry
when
there was beauty
in the sky
so crushing
 Jul 2022
irinia
to kindness, to knowledge,
we make promises only; pain we obey.
Marcel Proust

I was born into this world
of people without
guardian angels but
loveless pockets
no body to see how
pain was incessantly
turned into tombstones
a carousel of masks and
defeated laughter
blinded by deceitful colours.
triumphant sidewalks not afraid
to be crushed by the weight of
humiliated bodies.
-he was secretly dreaming
how vanilla ice-cream would taste
on her lips-
people got used to bringing their thoughts
to the drug stores
as if walking their pets
weeping was incomprehensible
forbidden by law.
-she was secretly dreaming
of him smelling like tobacco,
white musk and cedarwood -


this world survived because of
all the hidden dimensions,
perhaps.
I was handed over a disembodied world
to dream of but
the metaphors were of
no use
to moonless people
their hands paralyzed.
oh, can anybody see?
the unspoken terror
that time stood still.
-I was secretly dreaming of destroying
this world with fresh words, with
the craziness of feeling alive-

I inherited the secret passion
of some unknown promises and
never-whispered desires
the only teacher I could find -
my manic heart
unbearable the pains of
growing a mind.

they wanted to keep it simple:
to cry, to speak, to fall in love.
muted seagulls
loveless alphabets
into this world
waiting for the sun to shed
its hidden self
of blindness
 Nov 2021
irinia
he would have discovered him
trying to change the water formula in his tears
he tried to exist/insist/resist
where no body was thinking
the man without moon
suspended in a terrorizing labyrinth of faces
His own
he was a method man
growing salt in his eyes like minefields
teaching it the taste of the earth
anxiety like mountains of fog eradicating crossroads
he wants to exist inside the body of the world
with the decency of negotiated desires
and the hands get lost in translation
truth is a black truffle
sweating and swearing
sensuous craters perhaps
he killed many singing birds
searching for imagination, his body
muted, renegotiated soon after birth
staying alive, denying the soul of zebras
He lacks verbs, some nouns
learning from the theory of absence
how the effortless U(n-conscious)
is a Poet that
rhymes the body with the mind
of the world

He summoned the shaman, the artists, the tango teacher
to the wake of his body
while learning how summer waves contribute to a theory of mind
his self white
white while forgetting Magritte,
a taxi for Chopin
or the whiteness of the cotton pickers
perhaps
 Jul 2021
Shruti Atri
Why don't we have scars
For feeling too deeply?

No broken ribs
No punctured lungs
And yet, not an easy breath...

--

I want to blink out the stars
And let the blackness fall upon me

To forget this crippling despair
And breathe freely again...
For those who need a reminder: Mental health is important
 Jul 2021
Dark n Beautiful
Do people still blanket their walls with pictures

Of family members, framed and hanging like draperies

When I walk in my living room,  

I see a lonely couch, a 55-inch television

And memories of people who once lived there:

Sometimes I smile, sometimes I pondered,  

Sometimes I just want to say,

Where are my children,  

Why am I alone, then I smiled and speak?

It's good to be alone, with my poems, my thoughts

And my broken table, the one which she broke

After sitting on top of it. While chatting on the phone



I wondered if the years would change like Tik Tok video clips

Like a new outfit, with a clap of the hands


To grow old is to lose everything?

Yes, or no? But the worse part ..

Is when you work your whole life

And nothing to show, that **** per say

Just old memories, and piled of bills

What have the years thought us,

Never take nothing for granted:

Never put all your eggs in one basket

Never, allowed the bank to control, your

Pennies and dimes, never lend money to your friends

Keep your personal business, bottled:
 Apr 2021
Wanderer
What if it came with storm clouds?
Would it matter if I flooded the space between us with tears?
I look back, 20/20 pulling ******* sore edges
Sorry has a place but not here
My fingertips can feel the warmth of your wanting
Pulling away just like my heart did
Slow, methodical, intent to hurt
No amount of what-could-be would turn me
Even now my words are silent yet I do mean their weight
Whether you've got an oar or not is no matter
Shame lapping at your distant shore
At least I did not ghost you, no no
Much worse in my eyes to me
I pulled along a tug boat with a jet engine
Even while you struggled to be free
 Apr 2021
Seranaea Jones
-

i used to imagine as i lie
on my back in the grass

looking downward from
the foot of a great oak

watching squirrels cling to
the thin twigs and wonder

what they would think if
they lost their grip and
fell into the clouds,

sensing they would
splash-land forever—

into heaven...


s jones
2021


.
30 Mar 2021
 Jan 2021
Wanderer
Pursed lips french exhale into the coldness of late January
On the inhale I can taste your cemetery shadows
The rich, bitter heat of your stalwart heart
Thumping to the tune of midnight
I want to draw on your edges with salt and whiskey
Make it burn, make it hurt
Let it really sink in how far away our fingertips have become
Am I still she?
Is this still me?
Looking for answers under the bird feeder
All I find are empty shells
 Jan 2021
mark john junor
to be so eloquent of mind
but the mouth is locked
what sweet river that flows in the heart
betrayed by the tongue
this maddening speech
a struggle to say
a struggle to be heard
the stammer does not define me
despite it tripping my boot at every turn
to be so eloquent of mind
with the tongue so twisted
 Dec 2020
Carlo C Gomez
With a hint of death
mingling in the air,
the nocturnal snapdragon is
digging wells,
not just for water,
but also as final resting
places for friends back home,
in the garden,
deep within the soil.

Callous hands and feet
speak of insufficiency
and misery under the sun,
the one lone solace comes
with night,
and the partaking of
her body's delicacies,
bringing her innumerably
to the helve,
as she sings heavenly things
about the architecture
we creatures fall
so easily from.
We fragile creatures are here for such a short duration. Make it meaningful.
Mud on her cheek
she catches crab
by the narrow creek

her frame is sleek
skin saline drab
bone rickety weak.

She makes no show
tides only know
taste of her knee

her hair's knotty lock
makes the wind to talk
feel her slowly.

Why I can't tell
on the mind's sail
she stirs a song

I find her so fair
upon a moment there
then she's gone.
once again at the mangroves
 Nov 2020
Dark n Beautiful
I dream of a street I once resided on
An old dwelling, with galvanize fencing
A main street, with poor street lightings
I wake longing to be back there,
I remember the country, but not the heartaches,

Where I use to live and where am I now
Its poetry, it a google map, it history,
How did i get from there to here?

Once again it poetry, it was a drastic move
How i comes and goes in my dream of being there
Not the dwelling, not the whispering of the trees,
Nor the shortage of water, but the freedom of being me..
“Freedom is doing a job that I love. Not because I have to do it, but because I love doing it.” Quote
I just finish watching another Netflix movie.. About families
Unauthorized living: some of the plots could have been better
But, I enjoy the main characters, in comparisons to mine

Daniel was funny, too rich to be happy, too stupid to know how to live
He gives his bodyguards two thousand dollars just to see who **** was bigger,
To stupid to know how to live
Too rich to be happy:
A character like him needs to live on my street,
In that dwelling on the main street, without his daddy’s billions:

Being rich doesn’t stop one from being a *****,
Those sisters proven that in the movie:
A man will always be a dog, with his sniffing,
With my findings, Beautiful women suffers
more than ugly women do..
once in a while allow your mind to take you home
a place where you felt safe. During these ugly times:
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