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jerely Dec 2018
here i am waiting for the flowers to bloom
waiting for the sun to come
waiting for the stars to fall
waiting for the time to pass slowly
waiting for the river to flow
waiting for the next song to play
waiting for the wind to whisper my ears
waiting for the moon that will eventually out there looking for me from a far away.
patience is a virtue
to learn to wait
and just let it slip the book
through pages of memories.
people that become more happiness.
when they laugh, tell stories, or cry.
they become real because of their pain and love.

December 2,2018
Jerelii
Copyright
Francesca Nov 2018
I shared a moment with you today;
for once,
I was just
                     Present.
Not plagued with the what ifs,
The constant dialogue,
Bewitched was I
by nature’s percussion,
Dancing a melody outside,
I wrapped us in a blanket,
You calmed -
We both were still,
Our souls connected in a song:
A simple lullaby,
In your eyes sang the Universe,
It echoed back in mine,
An orchestra of consciousness
that I’ll treasure
for a while.
A lovely moment with my baby boy inspired me to write this poem.
I sit on the counter, feet draped over the sink watching the sun rise over the trees through the open window
As I bring my coffee to my lips I feel the familiar chip
The one that my lips have felt every morning for years
This cup snuggles perfectly between my small hands, the warmth shielding them from the cool spring air

This cup has been through a lot
A few moves
More than a few lovers

The Alice in Wonderland decal has worn off and the seafoam enamel is cracked-- a mosaic of all the times I didn't care enough to hand wash it
The handle fell off once, I wanted to practice the Kintsugi, the Japanese art of repairing broken things with liquid gold
But I'm a college student, so glittery modge podge worked just fine

In many ways I am this cup
Used, well loved
Slightly broken, held together with glitter and good intentions
I don't mind the cracks
In the cup or in me
Cracks show that you are strong, can handle whatever is thrown at you, heartbreak or linoleum
They also allow light in
To brighten when darkness is all you can seem to find

As I reach the last sips of my coffee the sun is well up
My cats are hungry and I'm running late
Some days it's worth tardiness to reconnect to a part of you you thought was lost

Today is one of those days
Francesca Nov 2018
The mind can be a
poisonous vine,
That twists
and creeps,
corrupts
and thrives
Until
You
Recognise
The twisting vine,
is kept alive -
Only
If it’s scrutinised.
Pablo Saborío Nov 2018
The rain poured
a glass of wine
through my lips,
solid chunks of sky
hitting relentlessly
the thin slice of dome,
my head dizzy
reciting the do-re-mi-
cascade of water
breaking into bullets
and merging then
back into puddle.

This started earlier tonight,
white stone sheets,
dense air cool by November,
darkness so natural to thought
that my eyes were shut,
whatever observes
what the eyes exclude,
silently observing
my complicity
with melancholy itself.

So the sermon of blah,
almighty course of opinion,
eternal genesis of monologue,
running never away from me,
but through me.

At this point
anything can happen,
repeat repeat,
or the moon’s light
rising as smoke
into the hair that is your,
to the night I speak,
body’s cosmos.

The rain dwindling,
at this point,
the ache can be melody –

cool whiteness of breath
entering the sore river
of the night,
this time my body of thought,
the house with the wonderful
arch to welcome pain inside.

Do I have hope?

That is,
to some degree,
the question
that draws this poem.
Stephen Nov 2018
The world is a gaping maw of ignorance
Filled to the brim with hatred,
Intolerance,
Unadulterated bigotry,
And millions of eyes,
Blinded mid-lobotomy,
That self-performed procedure
That protects the subject
From any sudden understandings.
Things are not as they ought to be,
But then things never were
And never will
Be.
The world is the way it is,
And those of us who couldn’t cut into our own calculating core,
Those of us who attempted the task with a torrent of tonics
Instead of hammer and shiv,
Find ourselves wandering through a wasteland of willful
Idiots and bigoted bullies.
Try as we might to open their eyes,
Open their minds,
We fail.
Their eyes are hollow shells and dust.
Their minds are awash with religious rules, rifles, ruination,
Walls, borders, fences,
Imaginary lines drawn everywhere,
Over everything,
And their brains are protected from learning anything new
Or different
By miles of scar tissue and an overabundance of barnacles.
So that leaves the rest of us,
The ones with eyes open, minds primed and wide,
Stuck.
Lost in a world of people who will never understand,
Never let real freedom ring,
Never erase the imaginary lines they drew themselves,
Never accept that everything they believe
Is preposterously perverse.
The more we try to spread the truth,
Attempt to put an end to the primitive procedure of self inflicted
Amentia,
The more they try to stomp us out,
Extinguish our flames,
Burn us to the ground.
But we continue to fight, to bleed, to die.
Sometimes because we still have hope that things can and will
Get better.
But more often than not,
We fight on because it's the only thing that keeps us
From picking up that ice-pick ourselves and becoming
Another one of the mindless masses.
Derrick Jones Nov 2018
Soft focus is not hocus pocus
It is relaxing the locus of concentration
But staying aware of the state of mentation

It is breathing free
With perfect clarity

It is falling asleep
But waking up to dream

It is forsaking worry
For a flurry of focal points
Getting blurry between the joints

So sink into the fabric of space
Erase the stitches of time
Wrap up in this infinite quilt
Guilt-free equanimity
Silt free liquid purity
Rest in perfect surety
Divest your uncertainty
There is no space ‘twixt you and me
Only particles we cannot see
For more poetry and essays, follow my blog on Medium at https://medium.com/words-ideas-thoughts
Thanks for reading!
You make me smile a bit
The one void, fading, devoid.
I do not know how it is.
Do not ask me to make it concise.
All I know is, you brighten the grey from the black shade the shadows bring.
I walk, head bent down, without Life beckoning.
I hear your voice, nothing musical, but lyrical.
It's a miracle I'd say when I wake up the next day,
A poser to keep my blues away.
I do not know why it is.
Do not ask me what I can't fathom in.
All I know is,
one day I met you and the sun shone a little brighter the next day.
The wet rain could not blur away what I saw.
Under the red light, I fret for my life.
After you, I come to my senses enough to force a smile.
I know you know,
You know I know,
We know they know,
They know we know,
Still we carry on,
Walking down these dorms,
still and seperate.
Doors locked, tear stains on pillow cases by dawn.
Love do not breed the strong.
Hate brought no muse worth wasting.
All I know is, lost we will seek.
Sought thus found was never thee.
From last night I couldn't distill.
Today, I learned to be still.
Tomorrow, I know I will need you more than yesteryear.
For the one who brings me relief.
Derrick Jones Nov 2018
Roll up to the gym
I’m not here to swim
Pre-workout courses through my veins
I shout through forces and strain
I know pain equals gains
And I came to hurt
Give my muscles a good growth spurt
All the ladies are trying to flirt
But my answers remain curt
I am here to put in work

Headphones on and my focus is scary
I sift through my music library
So that I can lift legendary
I need the right kind of song
To make me feel kind of strong
To push me right along, never lead me wrong
It needs the right beats per minute
So I can fight and beat my limits
Go to greater lengths
Accomplish new feats of strength
Demolish two fleets of tanks
Rip my tank top in two
To work out harder than you

When I bench the earth starts quaking
Every muscle in my body shaking
And tomorrow there will be aching
But right now it’s exhilarating

I am manic and mindful
I am so focused it’s frightful
My methods are not intuitive
But they are ingenuitive
I gain weight
To become enlightened
I sit up just to lay back down
I slam a ball into the ground
It’s not insanity
Or disdainful vanity
It’s religiosity
It is reciprocity
I get out what I give in
This is the body I was given
The body that I must live in
That’s why I am fully driven
To maximize this perfect prison
For more poetry and essays, follow my blog on Medium at https://medium.com/words-ideas-thoughts
Thanks for reading!
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