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Scarlet Niamh Aug 2015
A misunderstood mind,
A heartache of mine,
My main frame covered in dust.

A good clean long overdue,
Awakening when I find you,
Helping me to vanish the rust.
Robert Ronnow Aug 2015
Pocket knives, tape measures.
An extensive collection of coins.

Nails, screws, numerous sizes, and sets
of nail clippers, files, polishes and brushes.

Shoes, always shoes. And dresses.
Shirts and ties. Loud and quiet.

The sick and the dead are forever quiet,
never quite quiet. Our solicitude's unnecessary.

Playing cards, backgammon games,
chess. Every move's a variation on the next.

And so it is with words, numbers,
shapes and sizes. Feet and hands,

knees and eyes. Why and where and how won't matter
once we've divided the bags of clothes

among the poor and destitute. It's not too hard
to laugh too hard. The son and daughter deliver them

and then go home. Letters, wallets, clocks and watches.
Photographs in which the name and face don't match.
www.ronnowpoetry.com
a Aug 2015
The first thing you notice about a hospital is how clean it is.

The floors scrubbed down so hard, it would be cleaner with a more natural-looking layer of grime, because the reek of sterilising lemon-scented cleaner is sickening.

The tiles are snow but the ceilings are sludge, layers of paint unsuccessfully attempt to cover the dry rot coat, but the faeces-hue cannot be covered.

The doorways and chairs are bathed in rust, the flies not hesitating to accompany the visitors and their loved ones.

*Even the cleanest places are *****.
Really not one of my best pieces, very spur-of-the-moment. I'm using up my mobile data for this.
ji Jul 2015
I like whites - clean and crisp. White shirts and white sheets. White mugs and warm milk and white winter rains. But if you were coffee, I'd spill you over every white and love every stain.

I like organized - neat and nice. Made bed and matching blankets. Tidy shelves and closet. But if in my room you're the clutter, I don't think I'd ever fix it.

I like stories and poems, novels that get me hooked. I like plots with twisted endings, and my heart being took. But if you were a word in a chapter, I'd rather read you forever - over and over - than finish the book.
Rae Harrison Jul 2015
clean house, everything is neat and in its place
floor is swept, no trace of dirt, only empty space
its graceful, all mess has been erased
no face ever shows to try to misplace anything
I embrace that my brain is laced with a chase
it races at a fast pace and in my case, its you
everything is displaced and effaced
and now I retrace the mess

it's all you
*I don't want to clean it though
LovelyBones Jul 2015
Unlike anything you can buy,
The only thing to satisfy
Gives the feeling like nothing else
Not gold or jewels, or any wealth
Not alcohol, or any pill
A type of drug now if you will
Just a simple little thing
But caused me years of suffering
Left me with scars, and tears and shame
I know I'll never be the same
But even though it's overcome
It's a constant threat to see who's won
scar Jun 2015
i haven't washed myself
in days

there's no point
because

it can't be washed away
anyway.
Gentle drops of crystal
Rain over
to wash me clean
Poppy Perry May 2015
Today is Menstrual Hygiene Day
But I don't feel very clean
Because you can wash the outside
But even in 2015
Even in these realms of gender equality
And liberty on how to be sanitary
There's no solution for
internal Hygiene
And my blood that's not blood
This muddy flood more than ******
Is somehow still obscene

Today is Menstrual Hygiene Day
Today is a day I am 'on'
The switch is flicked
Blood engaged
And desirability gone
A secret leak, girls so meek
Whisper requests to friends
For dry bleached cotton to stuff and to mend
A recurring trend of defence and anxious bends
To stop the sprawling reddish brownish stain
Of the unexplained fertile woman shame

Today is Menstrual Hygiene Day
Girls in this world are dying and sick
This day promotes an unfortunate fix
Of our wealthy model that still prefers *****
That shows ***** on screens but never female produce
That allows 'I have a cold' but not 'I'm losing some ******'  
'feminine hygeine' aisles,
not 'period supplies' or 'Menstruals'
Disguised packets essential,
to store myself in,
Yet I've never glimpsed the contents of a sanitary bin,

It's Menstrual Hygeine Day
I hygienically ******* today
So I don't understand why this man
Will feel me on his chin and hands
But when the calendar strikes four
It doesn't do it anymore
I'm on and your off
I'm on and turning on stops  
Between my legs this mess
These dregs of last month make me less
Than my best or even a success
At being a woman despite my *******
And my fully functioning, leaking flesh
The appeal is repealed when you feel some real feels
And I continue to walk without showing pain  
To avoid any questions I cannot sustain

Today is Menstrual Hygiene Day
I take my pills for my mahogany strain
I didnt realise from my first stain
What was normal for bloodshed and symptoms and pain,
My packets talk in grams and the doctors in millilitres
My bedsheets spoke volumes and mattress screamed deeper
My knickers whispered ****** and my thighs of a foetus
Stressed and grievous
I don't live in Nepal, I'm lucky for my resources
And the understanding nature of modern social forces
You haven't  degradated or segrated this hateful female fate starting
But I'm far from delighted with the slight common sense parting
When I've seen these secret unfair truths
As normal until there's something compare to
Why do we teach shame and silence
For another simple act of natural violence?
Why will you handle dirt and dead meat,
But not a person alive and craving your heat
And I am sick of my flowers  and unclean until the even
Of my life and one quarter of my natural season

Today is Menstrual Hygiene Day
But I don't feel very clean
Because I've washed and washed the outside
But there's blood all down the seams
these fingers don’t seem big enough
to catch all your losses
and my pockets are filled to the brim with shame
so forgive me when I say that
i can’t love you right now
because I put my happiness in a bottle
marked
“for emergencies only”

it seems that
in the midst of all the chaos
i misplaced my faith again
in the juxtaposition of your embrace
and my inability to heal
so i hailed a cab for you
because it me killed more to
watch you stay suffering
in this fragmented
and disillusioned
version of reality

years from now
i’ll still be constructing a self
that is less destructive than this
within the boundaries
of crumbling walls
and absent apologies
that keep the pain flowing in

the reason that I stopped
looking for your blue dress
in the blur of blank spaces
is because
i broke my kaleidoscope long ago
searching for the better version of me
that could convince you to
come back home
once more

since then
my heart has known only
the indifference of your presence
because I stopped calling out for you
in crowded streets filled broken souls
such as myself
poor people digging for meaning
and rainbows
in colourless conversations
trying to please an insatiable hunger
forgetting that our bellies
are already swollen
with disappointment and anger

By: Lulwama Kuto Mulalu
Sometimes life can turn into a real **** show, but what else is new?
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