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D O G  W H O  S E A R C H E D   F O R      M O O N

Another night. Same place. Same time.
The asphalt laid drunk on droplets of rain,
And a stray dog wandered the streets.  

It’s the Dog who searched  
For fragments of Moon  
In overfilled trashcans  
And the rippling
Surface of puddles.  

“Have you seen my Moon?”
No one had an answer.  
It’s food and it’s home.  
It’s pain and it’s love.  
“Have you seen my Moon?”
It’s up in the sky.  
“It can’t be, I must’ve
Dropped it right here!”

The Moon caressed
The blackening skies
And viciously laughed
At Dog’s sorrow.  
But Dog won’t give in,
It comes back to search
For its’ Moon
On another tomorrow.  

“I caught it!”
It barks, but  
No one is there
To hear it.  

The Moon laughed,
For Dog just found  
Nothing but pieces
Of glittering shadows.  

Another night. Same place. Same time.
The asphalt laid drunk on crystalline tears,
And a stray dog wept on the street.

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In a mist of the unknown

Not knowing what’s within

Fearful of a thorny crown

Carrying only my own sin

Even when I close my eyes

I say, my ears can still hear

There’s no more I can deny

Take the leap and face my fear

As I enter I soon discover

I don’t need eyes or ears

Just myself and my rover

And a true heart to endear

Where I walk with my memories

Clinging on to only what is true

From hurt to pain and miseries

Mist is the vehicle to my blues

The unknown is not what it seems

It’s my guardian angel, e’er invisible

Fittingly, compatible as it deems

My shield, my knight invincible

It is purification and cleansing

Full of love from a misty king

To raise my voice and sing

Aloud the joy it can bring

©Johnny J P Lee

27 May 2020

Photo Credit J. P. Lee

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In strange ways did the wind blow,

Between and surging through

Who I thought was a reflection of me,

Though I was done with fate

Playing it’s endless games, I

Couldn’t just stop what followed

And somewhere my eyes were drawn to

In its resistance, and sat ladylike graciously

Upon the curves of his lashes.

I was drawn back to the reality,

Almost instantly, though powerless my mind

Resumed in secret to gaze upon his eyes

Shut in submission to the windswept sky,

Like never before my nerve endings stood

On tiptoe, leaning over, looking in wonder

At who it was, that had jolted my thoughts,

Caused me to slap down my inner voice,

Imploring her to stay quiet for once.

Was it the restrain in his smile,

When someone complimented him, or perhaps

His silence, that hollers into the maddening crowd

Was it that gaze, those sagacious eyes,

That unfolds stories he couldn’t ever word

Or that very unique personality, that charisma

One would lean over backwards,

Something was definitely happening,

In me neglecting him, and he going backwards.

My mind pirouettes, thinking what mystery I could uncover

If I walked over his layers of skin,

If I reached through the vortex surrounding him

I wonder if I could atleast bring him to speak,

But then I realized, he’s my reflection, ofcourse!

I’m the one who needs all sorts of rescuing

Fate played well this time, and I’m glad

Though I never could save myself, atleast for once

I did well to look into myself with a different pair of eyes.


_ Reflection _

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We walk past each other,
passing that cigarette that we sneaked in,
telling stories about boys I have loved, the way I loved and wish to love…

we talk about broken dreams, shattered trusts, hopeless people, and times we wish we could erase…

her hand on my shoulder, reassures me of hope,
her company builds trust and friendship…

we turn around and see a shooting star,
so close that we doubt it for a second,

a story no one might believe…

our joy on having spotted it at the exact moment,

the reassurance on hope,
giving us that moment, the exact moment when we turned around…

a beautiful shooting star…

we continue to walk, this time with a huge smile from ear to ear

the cigarette bud now lays on the floor,

we head back and days later still cherish that one moment….

I miss everything about that day,

the peace, the familiarity of the place and a belonging…

I miss her….

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“Existence” by Nico, Photography by John McDonald


Why do I exist?

It is an important question that can provide clarity. Imagine a boat launched into the sea without a compass, a rudder, or a destination. What would be its direction and purpose, or the reason for it’s existence?

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There are four, and yet I only know one. As if they were as old as the sun.

On a spring night, beneath the twilight, we met as lovers do.

The warmth spread, till my fingertips could feel the lines in your palms,

Maybe summer,was the charm. The swelter of the breeze, when you had slept clutching a book under the blossom tree.

For what its worth, a stray lavender fell, disenchanted, like autumn’s spell.

Wilted flowers, in the pages of the poetry book you read. Dont give me flowers, you said.

They wither, like winters freeze.

In the snow I drew patterns, and then I wrote your name.

In hopes, you’d see and smile, with promise of a sunny day.

For days of thunder, watching the rain,

Spying your silhouette, from across the window pane.

Sometimes like the wind, you come back each day, sometimes unintended,

Like summer rain.

Seasons, all of them are serene. Each igniting hope, anew.

Inspite of all, memory,seems to recall.

the only Season I knew.


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Your jokes are corny.

But I still laugh.

I wonder if it’s because I actually like them despite my holier-than-thou attitude.

Or if it’s because I would laugh at every funny thing you’d say.

When you look at me this way.

- TK

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Fake news, virtual hugs, online meetings, care packages, video calls, conspiracy theories….

Seeking simplicity

When chaos reigns

Toxicity in our city

Running through our veins

Injection for protection

Breathing through fabric

Inhale positivity

Exhale bullshit

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In childhood, I never was fond of sleeping
Of feeling the flow of time, the hours passing darkly over me
Pushing me always towards another day
Towards the sharp gates of middle school
Arrows and fingers pointing
A jaw closing on me with grimacing fangs

But I remember the few sleepless years I had with you differently
Living wired to your letters, your calls, your emails
In constant anticipation of our once every few months reunions
We were crazed kids, eager not to waste a single second
Perhaps sensing our time together was already close to running out
We invented odd tricks and potions to stay up as late as we could
We sucked on cold stones
We drank lemon concentrate and ate salt crystals,
Enough for a sour wincing burn to jolt us awake

In this charming insanity, we pushed each other into exhaustion
Into our own form of folie à deux
Our brains on fire, buzzing with endless fantasy scenarios
We talked and wrestled and played cards
For those hectic restless hours
We were closer than I’ve ever been to another person
We breathed the same air and caught each other’s colds

It is gone now, the thrill, the youth, the insomnia
But as bitter as loss is, nothing could sour nor ever tarnish it
Nothing could make me unlove you,
My truest, dearest friend
You who looked at me, wretched and bruised
And trusted that beyond the make-belief
I truly had magic enough for us two.

Inspired by the prompt “Never Been Fond of Sleeping” by @goose-lit 

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Foxglove Skeletons

Dearest, dearest,

So long you have travelled to the depths of the horizon, across the lake of my soul. Sweetest daze, unspent hours. You did not understand the language no matter how hard you tried to be a darling magpie, repeating all the sounds you heard.

Infantile spirit, in this world, you kept wandering to the edge of the edge, living in the worlds of in between.

Blossom after blossom, you carried a garden in your mind - words so fragrant, to shower on the heads of your closest angels.

Perhaps you’re bleeding a little. From the the soles of your feet, or perhaps deeper? From the centre of your soul. Bleeding outwards into your thoughts and words and tears.

Oh my darling, you’ve forgotten how to dance and smile and square your shoulders back - back to that little child, carrying its dying rose, dying words, sad little heart dancing in circles in a dusty ray of sunlight. Curling up to sleep away from it all. Among the autumn leaves at the lapping waves between the worlds and your softest dreams.

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Kiss me until I’ve

Returned, landing on living.

Your lips, my life blood.


Kiss me until I’ve

Learned the timing of my tongue

Whispering “I love…”


Kiss me until I’ve

Held the heat of my instincts,

Spillin’ from the sun.


Kiss me until I’ve

Found your route, flowers among

Highways I’ve outrun.



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Jumping off bridges
Seem to be  
All the rage,

Need for explaining
As times like these
Prove hard

Where death
Is a basic statement
Of life which
Falls so easy

Since fear
Has offered freedoms
From heights
No man should plunge.

Yet I wonder
If God will judge
Those souls  
Who bravely plummet,

Daring hell
Despite knowing
Such sin might
Break their leap -

Worried how
Faith confirms
Why conviction
Remains an answer

Toward humans
Facing disaster
Each day
We’re gifted breath.

Isn’t sickness
Penance enough
Or experience
Torture already,

Watching friends
And our families
Suffering pain
Without cause?

But cowardice
Never endures
Beyond moments
Rashly ventured

Garnering blame
Deemed sufficient
In eyes whose love
Loss hurts -

Beautiful ends
On chances
Apparently wasted,

Memories cherished
Then sullied fast
After grief.

Even though
Flesh decays,
Tempting fate
Every second,

What minutes
Elapse with meaning
Far outweigh
Quick relief.

- J. Pigno

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Tonight I asked the sun
If it could burn me alive
And take me away with it.
It doesn’t matter where.
I’d follow along
No matter what it takes.

I’d walk with it to any place
Down the path of celestial blood  
Spilled across the sky before dusk.  
I would burn as it burns away,
Becoming ash,
Dull and gray,
Hanging in the skies
To weave the veil of night.

Tonight I asked the sun
If it could burn me alive.
I asked for this
With no intentions
Of reckless  
Or desperate acts.
My eyes were still, dead still
With tears turning to glass,
And my voice quivering
Only slightly.
Swaying in the wind
Like crows
Above the empty winter fields.

I hope you understand.
If it were a call of despair,
The bloody sun and I  
Would have a short date  
On the edge of a rooftop,
A few inches away from the edge.
Step, step. Jump.
And then, nothing would matter.  

But all I do is sit on the edge
Of a windowsill,
Asking the sun to burn me alive
Knowing damn well it wouldn’t hear me.

It doesn’t matter!
I am already burning!
I am already burning, you see…
With memories I’ll live with
And words left unsaid.
With time I’ll fight with
As I feed my regrets.
And of course…
With love I’ll leave undone,
Until it strangles me.  

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Death dons a new face
and the whole world hides behind a mask,
has quarantined itself indoors;
yet, each morning brings new mourning
as statistics continue to worsen.
The odds are in our favor
but every day I still read story
after story
after story
of those we’ve lost to this virus,
those whose odds were not favorable.
Sure, the odds are in my favor but what if
I’ve made a mistake,
my preventative measures not cautious enough?
Any day now, it could be my name in the paper,
just another number lost in the statistics.

I obsessively look out the window
keeping watch for an enemy impossible to see.
Like this old house, my body groans and creaks;
every new noise has me panicked
about an unwanted visitor.
There is always a thermometer in my mouth now,
the constant smell of bleach on every surface.

I have not felt my lover’s touch in months.
We promised to let nothing come between us—
all it’s taken is 125 nanometers.
There is a killer on the loose
600 times smaller than the diameter of a strand of hair,
her hair that used to be everywhere.
Her smell in my clothes, in my sheets,
the subtle reminders of her frequent presence
washed away with disinfectant.

We must stand apart now
to improve the odds we can live a long life
together when this is all over.
This is the happiest love I’ve ever known
and I stay awake at night worried
that I won’t make it long enough to hold you again,
that I’ll wake up in a lonely hospital room,
machines keeping me alive.
I stay awake at night worried
that all the bleach, all the Lysol,
all the masks the in world, all the distance
won’t make a difference.
I stay awake at night worried
that I will be prematurely plucked from this life
and never get the chance to love you
for as long or as much as you deserve.

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When you sell your soul
you’ll only get what you paid for
live for what you’ll fade for;
roll the trees
then its flame on
heart blacker than Draymond
tell the coat tail riders hang on;
step back hezzy–
then you get banged on
check the bezzy–
more blood for the blood god.

allergic to help
at war with myself;
I washed my body–
still unclean;
shining bright–
still unseen
with dream like gleam
I make the extraordinary
extra ordinary
and the obscene plain;

no rules
just game

in the dashboard
stash like harden
war-art like spartan
a young king coming through.
the type of king
that you don’t need
to see a crown as proof .

sojourn for truth
fight all lies
burn all bridges
cut all ties
carry them issues Hercules
that’s what strength was made for
see me running, warlord cunning–
laser focus mode
next to the stove
it’s hard to have a journey
while you’re making the road.

© poet.dreamer.fool

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