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September Poetry

A Dream Commodified 

What happens to a dream deferred? 

Is it branded by companies trying to sound woke? 

Or taken up by hipsters and gentrifying folk? 

Is it used by influencers, with a selfie and a filter?
Or blasted by a fascist spewing hate on Twitter? 

Maybe it sags like a heavy load…

But under capitalism, it will never explode.




Monk in Chinatown


The subway is bursting 

With random cacophonies 

I could play by heart


But all I can hear

Is the impossible rhythm

To a rhapsody we can only


You speak to me with your eyes, 

In tongues your heart

Is yet to understand, 

While I clumsily translate

The perfectly syncopated dissonance

Of a dancing monk


In the hopeless attempt

To explain

The simplest melody of love.

  • Anonymous





why do i see you?
eating up my own soul’s life…
can i fly once more?


you left as i broke…
my heart became so fragile
the pieces are lost!


laying with darkness…
feeling the cold become me
then came some brightness.


together pieces came
the soul is at full bloom
my heart was now more.

Kailey A. Garcia

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