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He dragged me through hell, but as long as he was holding my hand I called it love.

Hoping and dreaming for realities sent from above.
Just started this poem, feel free to help me add to it!!!
I think it's stupid
How I refuse to use straws
Because of a video I watched one time
Of one stuck in a sea turtle's nostril.

Or how there is really only the illusion of choice
And statistics from unreliable resources
Making us feel better or worse
About our decisions.

I tell myself to quit sugar
But honestly I just like my lattes
Sickeningly
Sweet
Like the love stories I thought could be under nooks
Around the corners
Of everyday life.

I like ice cream on winter days
Hot tea in the suns of summer
A walking talking irony

A bulb on its way to burning out
Sputtering in the half-eaten room
No one wants to go in to change it.

It's not my fault
The walls dissolve
And that same chord is continually played on the piano
In the corner of the upstairs closet.

It's not my fault
Cameras don’t bring me security
But sensitivity to my own identity.
Dissolution into absolution
Abolishment of egocentrism

And always,
The illusion of choice
Hanging in the rafters chattering.
Disjointed musings in a coffee shop.
They told me not to be afraid
They told me not to hide
It is time to face it

I practiced every single day
practice makes perfect
It trained me to be better and better

I am now well prepared
I sharpened my blade
Ready to slice every obstacle away
Ready to cut through every single issues

I prepared a shiny armour
To avoid people from hurting me
Especially my fragile heart

I learned how to fight
So that I can fight for myself
So that I can stand up for myself
Because I have countless scars left on me

I am ready
I am ready to face tomorrow
I am well prepared
For all the obstacles I'm about to face
Because *I am a warrior
By:Esther Ong (this is a note to my dear self to be strong and face every obstacle ahead of me)
 Oct 2016 Donald Durham
Lora Lee
Last night
as I sat in
the ancient temple
atop the mountain,
my people surrounding
           me, generations
upon generations,
  voices ascending
       in the wispy and
            earthbound solidarity
                 of ancient prayers,
I felt the words
               rise up
around me, protecting, loving
their intonations
           tingling inside
the doorways
         of my brain
expanding the limits
through glass
and sacred ceilings,
       up unto the stars
celestial understandings
pushing through
my crumbling
walls to break
through barriers
         from the thickness
of night
reaching out
      into purity, a beckoning
             of light
and the words, the singsong tones
passed down from the ancients    
like candlelit incantations
         grew soft, invisible wings    
             that touched my cheek
                   the silky presence of
               the grounded power            
             of my ancestors
welling up in the
         dark caverns within
and as we sang
of new beginnings
         and listened with one heart
to the call of the shofar,
        that ram's horn of blessings,
                            my knotted
loops of longing
resonated in musical notes
strands of the primordial
               in the deep forest
echoes
             of my being
linking my soul's cry
to all the people
           of my book
in a long swirling line
              down to the river,
the desert, the oceans
a tight braided chord
of solidarity, of lineage, of blood
the flesh and bones of heritage
pumping crimson freedom
Yes,
somewhere,
          in even the most
                broken chords
                   of heartstrings
                tiny wings
beat                    
        hope
I am not religious at all. But I found a beautiful light energy in an unexpected place (ironically..for most people very expected but for me not), during a holiday that celebrates renewal. Perhaps the concept of renewal is prticularly significant for me at this time; I think it is significant for all of us, at the right time..:)

* shofar- ram's horn, blown into on certain Jewish holidays to "remind us of the primordial scream, the eternal voiceless call of the soul expressing its desire to return to its Creator."
It's difficult to see anything without
Watching how specifically light dances
Which way the clouds are moving
Voices tepid, brushes on canvas

Noticing the severity in a word
Underlying meaning in unkempt rooms
Bones, steel, fragments of sentences,
The blood-red rose in bloom.

Lyrics the cells wasting in my skull
Personification the melody in my veins
Clawing at meaning in a meaningless world
Skeptically observing unadulterated pain

Ripping apart the flesh of grammar
Feasting on the perhaps and what ifs
Strolling down the graveyards of potentiality
Heart whirring through malleable to stiff

This is a poet's mind,
Scattered as the winds reverse
Beautiful and dark as the new moon
Scarred, beaten and perverse:

A blessing assuredly, albeit a curse.
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