summer

August is bittersweet
tinged with quiet urgency
each day shorter than the last
reminding us that
summer wanes

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August 

I love the stillness of a summer morning with chartering birds as my only companions

A soft breeze carries a hint of the sea as the sun peaks through the trees casting dappled light across the yard

The dog sighs contentedly in still cool grass flicking his ears at errant flies determined to disturb his solitude

August has begun

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Echoes

I can hear the ghosts of yesterday whispering softly in my ear

I can see the ghosts of yesterday on the streets as I go past

I can touch the ghosts of yesterday as they brush against my heart

I can feel the ghosts of yesterday deep inside my soul

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Original sin

Original sin

Knowledge and sex are our original sins
Placed on us by man’s whim

Some praise God and
Some praise Allah

I praise the one who makes me holla

Wisdom and knowledge
Are forbidden fruits
Heaped on us by men in silly suits

I don’t believe in your heaven
I don’t believe in your hell
So have a seat and shut up for a spell

My body is mine
I wield it as I wish

You have no right to control my choice
You have no authority to silence my voice

The history of mankind is written
On the backs of subjugated women

Enough

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psyche

I wander through the forest of insanity
adrift in a sea of humanity
searching for a chance at normalcy
trapped in the minefield of inanity

I grasp at the sand as it trickles through my hand
wondering why I can’t manage to be anything correctly
silently I weep as I stand over an abyss
filled with the consequences of choices delayed
the price I pay to get up every day

Drowning in an ocean of tears
powered by the fears
that seep from the cesspool
in the pit of my being

My psyche wipes the dirt from her knees
as she struggles to stand
a hand to her back she slowly straightens
bracing for the punch she knows is coming
the universe raining down cosmic misery
yet she remains unbowed

Defiantly she stares
hip cocked; and
head turned just so
hands loose and fingers flexing
waiting to defend against the onslaught

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Unclaimed

I have no parents left
Responsibility has been ceded to me
I wear it like an ill fitting suit
It chafes and rubs raw my skin
I am not ready to be orphaned
Disconnected from my past
Adrift in the vastness of the world
Unclaimed

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Silently

My heart lives
in a cage of thorns
every beat more painful
than the last

The act of living is killing me
but my pain is audible to only me
I hold it silently
carrying it around in melancholy
stoically

I feel it weeping
slowly beating
in its cage of thorns

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