I used to move like music,
Aggressive, my trauma speaking volumes.
In recent years I've tried to dance from light,
My divinity, I attempt to exhume.
Still, it's more difficult,
The pain extends through my limbs.
My fists clench and I stomp,
Head circling, the fight against tears I cannot win.
Movement is my fight,
The dragon within the meat suit soars to no end.
Muscles sore and burning orgasmically,
Though no clothes stripped and partner present.
The battles I couldn't win in person,
Wave through my core as I fall to the ground.
Aging not so gracefully,
Moving like an ape in tune with rhythm, unbound.
Drop everything everything
Drop everything everything
Drop everything everything
Stop, don’t do anything
And listen to my heart beat
Listen as our souls meet
Drop everything
Let our love sing
Out of tune but with melody
Out of time for the remedy
So
Drop everything everything
Stop, don’t say anything
But
I love you
Judgment
and criticism
from people
who fear
the unknown
and want to
control others
do not carry
much weight
when it is
known that
most of these
same people
have already
thrown their
own personal
ethics out
the window and
have also
contributed
to the karmic
messes being
cleaned up
to this day--
which is why
we must carry on
and go forth
knowing that
someday our gifts
will help
the community
see more clearly.
Tonight I write to this melody
playing sweetly in my head,
as I craft these words effortlessly,
visualizing shades of red.
I strike a flame in the dark,
incessantly in a muse,
trying to reveal the love of the heart
with every silent tune.
Her beauty is like a pink sunset,
captured in a moment;
softly, the warmth of her breath
touches my skin.
She is a blue, emerald-foamed ocean,
flowing beneath a clear moon,
and the waves of her emotions
rise to my rhythmic cue.
Half-faded memories, they flutter round the bed
Like butterflies over the garden flowers
How come that I’m living to forget
While it seems worth to save the happy hours?
Why did they disappear rather soon
Don’t ask, there is no answer I can share
All efforts drown in a merry whistling tune
That plays until I fall asleep in my armchair
And through the darkened glass I see the land
I've never walked upon and I won’t do
But where were you, the one, who understands?
Sounds rhetorical, though I didn’t mean it to…
I’m a castaway because
Some officials gone mad
Even if I don’t fight wars
Others think I thrive from that
Maybe it’s an old prejudice
Or perhaps a different game
That I seem a bit too dangerous
Though they know I’m quite the same
And their dodgy politicians
Understand it, but they won’t
Change a thing in this fictitious
Little spamming world they own
So I’m humming my old tune
It’s Debussy-like, quite vague
Setting table at the noon
For the feast in time of plague.
Flying free through the air,
Little angels stare at you,
Singing a tune of love,
A message from above,
Showing what you're made of.
Don't be afraid of what they have relayed,
They stay loyal to the source,
A high vibrational force,
Observing us on our course.
A guide for those with eyes,
Seeing the prize right outside,
Riding along with you,
The view of angels whistling away.
All day sharing the space we play,
If you see one today,
Say thank you for the part they play.
It's the way I see them fly,
Sharing my space of mind,
Finding the connection within the design.
A Divine message in the thoughts inside,
Riding on the wave they gave,
Singing a tune of love,
From the birds flying above.
Come Santa, play your guitar.
Sing a tune for all it's worth.
'Tis the season, be jolly.
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: 3rd place 2025
From the Kentish marsh and river,
To the London city’s grime,
Pip sought status and a fortune,
Leaving Joe and honest time.
First, a boy of humble station,
Then a snob in fancy scenes;
He pursued a cold Estella,
Filled with self-improving dreams.
Miss Havisham, in a faded dress,
Lived within her home decayed;
Taught her ward to break all male hearts,
For the price her groom had paid.
Pip believed that she was his patron,
Fancied he’d an easy life,
But the truth revealed a convict,
Filled with penitence and strife.
Here’s a tale of class and conscience,
How true worth is found within;
Not in wealth or empty status,
But in kindness to all men.
When his “great expectations” vanished,
Pip found peace and honest work.
Learned that love and loyalty,
Are the values that don’t shirk.
Oh, step inside and see the Lincoln bathroom.
This marble is a vision to behold.
The government might now be in a shutdown, but
Blame the Democrats, oh yes! Blame the Democrats, oh yes!
Did I mention faucets made of gold?
Blame the Democrats (like me)! The Republicans agree
That my White House plans are big and bold.
Oh, see the East Wing in a pile of rubble.
A massive ballroom will rise up instead,
Those needing SNAP funds may be having trouble, but
Blame the Democrats, like me, for the Democrats, you see
Are the reason children can’t get fed.
Blame the Democrats (like me)! The Republicans agree
Only feed the families voting red!
Though I was King of Mar-a-Largo,
The White House needed me to spruce things up.
Mt. Rushmore’s waiting for my face’s carving,
Or else my visage should be on a coin.
Planes are delayed and families are starving, but
Blame the Democrats, oh yes! They’re the reason for this mess.
Young Republicans need you to join!
Blame the Democrats! It seems even most of the Supremes
Take my side and bow right down to kiss my feet.
Oh, those Democrats, so blue, wonder what they’re gonna do
If three terms will make my life complete?
Youthful airs come and gone
turning heads for all the wrong reasons
painfully desperate to attract attention
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
A radio draws music from the air,
It is designed to capture sounds within the room.
The screen, with light and motion pictures so rare,
Transmits the drama of life through the bloom.
A mobile phone connects both near and far,
Uniting hearts across the globe with grace.
Yet minds are made to reach beyond the star,
To catch God's dreams from heaven’s resting place.
For this we are formed - His image we reflect,
Co-partners in the dreams that He conceives.
With faith, we dare to walk where none expect,
And live the life that only God believes.
So, dream divine, let sacred visions brim -
Adventure waits for those who walk with Him.
We gaze up at the full harvest moon.
Nightingales are singing our tune
The tunes of my cries goes
Why the breathe, the life?
A question that has creapt its way in and taken root into my very soul
At times a wail but mostly a cry to be freed of it all
Why?
No recollection of a choice but here i breath
So fluid life goes yet i fight the reality of conciousness
A fight of seemingly boudless choices but non exists
Why?
I take consolidation in an inevitable end but when?
Not beyond a childlike wrinkly existence but hoping for less yet clinging on for more
The hypocrisy, the cowardice and double standard is a shame i carry
Why?
One day...could be now, a minute a head or more time than i hoped for, it shall all come to a conclusion
Hopefully soon but not too soon
By Aaron Onen
Natures’ Tune
A path shadowed
with darkened clouds
Even the perky noon
couldn’t reveal its’ paths
Entrapped in a dreaded maze
sealed from the soothing wind
With each distorted step
leading to a saddened end
I mused
staring at the timorous waters
receding away from my feet
Gawking with anxious desire
I watched the twerking wave
quietly caressing the sandy shore
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