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There is no such thing
as a bad writer,
just one who isn't sad
- not sad enough.
 Nov 2015 Ambika Jois
hannah lace
your hand sits on my upper thigh
as we drive in your car back to my place,
i carefully push your hand up higher

your hand sits on my inner thigh
as we drive in your car back to my place,
i carefully push your hand in closer

your hand sits inside my leggings
as we drive in your car back to my place,
i carefully push your hand down lower

your hand sits inside my underwear
as we drive in your car back to my place,
i carefully push your hand a little deeper

your hand sits inside my body
as we drive in your car back to my place,
i close my eyes and exhale the pleasure
you only go as far as i want you to
 Nov 2015 Ambika Jois
johnangelo
You touch me
without using
your hands
souls
 Nov 2015 Ambika Jois
Sourodeep
As a kid I would see
a bird and wonder if
I could fly too.
I wanted to fly to
fill my heart with
excitement,
spreading wings
seeing beautiful things
Now I feel change of role
the small plant has grown old
even as I sit inside a plane
it does not feel like flying
outside the window pane.
Now after all these years
a bird flying high means
to run away from my fears
to drop off this heavy drape
and fly just to escape.
Drawing images using some words
Telling some stories that are unheard
Stealing the moment, freezing the time
Killing the beast that vultures the mind

Spilling blood, the pen is our knife
Collecting traces from this mysterious life
Connecting dots to create a line
Polishing stones to make it shine

Our words are riddles, a must to decode
Giving multiple key for them to unload
The meaning of some could make readers insane
If wrongly unlock it will conquer their brain

We are a shape-shifter just like the cloud
Painting angels and demons to enlighten the crowd
Hoping they’ll listen to our joy and our pain
Wishing they’ll get the lesson of our every rain



11/03/2015
Mysterious Aries

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