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Show Me Love

Give me a souls exploding
Temperature rising
Sing it to the rooftops, kind of love
Give me an eyes wide open
Up all night
Can’t eat
Can’t sleep, kind of love
Give me a promises kept
Compromises met
No lies, kind of love
Give me a forever
Hand in hand
Till death do us part, kind of love
Someday
For now?
For now, just give me love.

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Photography: Lanaya
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The Promise

I walk into the day
Wearing hope as my sweater
Allowing the sun to feed my soul
Promising myself that today

I would set myself free

I walk into the day
With you by my side
Laughing away the pain
Promising ourselves that today

We would set ourselves free

I walk into the day
Surrounded by smiles
Existing uncomfortably in the crowd
Watching as they promise themselves that today

They would set themselves free

I walk out of the day
Surrounded by bitterness
Barely surviving in the crowd
Watching as they promise themselves that tomorrow

They will set themselves free

I walk out of the day
You’re no longer by my side
Saying goodbye forever
Promising ourselves that tomorrow

We will set ourselves free

I walk out of the day
Hope is nowhere to be found
Darkness invading my soul
Promising myself that tomorrow

I will set myself free

 

 

_____________________________________

Photography: Lanaya

@writing.for.the.calm

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Writhing in the Dark

Maybe it is best
left as a mystery,
all the sacred things
you hold dear,
trapped inside
for you to breathe.

Even as you notice
the most sincere
principles of reality–
you condemn all the fake
that screams in your face,

and that knowledge may lead
to even more intricate puzzles,
fluttering down from
somewhere to nowhere,
like lazy words writhing
mystically in the dark.

 

______________________________

Original Photography

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#GenreSpokenWord from Sayali Parkar

Sometimes going gets tough,

When the fears creep in at 

Night; then I slide away the 
 
Curtains of time and space; 
 
And see the fireflies of my 
 
Good memories flickering
 
In the sky. 
 
And I get the strength to go
 
Ahead. 
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Abstractly Published

 

2017 Reflect:

When you are at the saddest point in your life you feel as if there is nothing left. All you have are memories. All you have are hopes and dreams. Now those things you held dear are no comfort. They feel like talons dragging across your brow. Yet, when you are down for the count all you can do is look up. The sun flickers on your tears and there it is hope. A hope of new beginnings. Such beautiful beginnings, parts of you had to die, in order to see them. I guess my ass is a zombie then? ‘Cause I have done more in death than in life.

Ahhhh-men.

Christina M. Watkins

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Fleeting

She was constantly battling tainted thoughts

that were grotesque in the way that their goal

was always to destroy her, bring her down.

Could someone have the ability to see her calm?

To entice it? To think it was graceful and angelic?

She imagined it would be like spotting a rare butterfly

or catching a glimpse of how a waterfall glimmers on a

precise angle of the sun–fleeting, yet a moment to treasure.

 

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Photography: Lanaya @writing.for.the.calm

 

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Controlled Burn

Gone are the days of spitting words

at each other like wildfires.

Sparks that caught too quickly

that even our tears could not quell the damage.

Look how our passionate fire turned toxic.

But you of all people should know

that even the oldest forests must burn down,

if only to make room for fresh growth.

Our controlled burn was inevitable.

How else to cleanse our love-soaked soil

turned hazardous.

So we back-burned

leveling our ground,

before distance could poison the

seeds of our once blossoming friendship.

We burned ourselves into silence,

Clearing the way for

sincere attempts at life after love.

Sometimes we must set ourselves alight

Just to begin anew.

And (re)growing we are,

even if our roots are no longer

intertwined.

 

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Photography: Lanaya @writing.for.the.calm

 

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Turn the Truth Up! – Rico Lowe Jr. (@panafrico)

Lies be dancing on the tips
of slithering tongues.

saddling the wind, looking for
gullible ears to slide into.

but truth walks with volume.

each step distanced between
long, rhythmic strides.

turn the truth up,
and watch the lies silently die.

 

 

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Writing: Rico Lowe Jr. @panafrico

Photography: Lanaya @writing.for.the.calm