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	<title>The Evening Dawns &#187; poetry</title>
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	<link>http://www.theeveningdawns.com</link>
	<description>Thoughts. Writings. Reasons.</description>
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		<title>Dear Cupid, You’re Fired.</title>
		<link>http://www.theeveningdawns.com/dear-cupid/</link>
		<comments>http://www.theeveningdawns.com/dear-cupid/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sun, 13 Feb 2011 01:37:37 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Keisha</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Uncategorized]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[cupid]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[fired]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[humor]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[keisha bush]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[New York City]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[relationships]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[valentines day]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Writing]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.theeveningdawns.com/?p=982</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Is it that you need glasses? If so I would have paid for the $20 dollar eye exam at Cohen’s. Do you have a drinking problem and therefore you’re aim is off? There’s AA. But to be honest my patience for your incompetence has run out. I’m on empty.

I can understand if I was the alcoholic, drug abuser, cutter, stalker, emotionally cockeyed one but I’m in therapy working my ass off. And yet I’m left with another year of utter disappointment. [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>4</slash:comments>
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		<title>the end is never as we imagined it would be</title>
		<link>http://www.theeveningdawns.com/the-end-is-never-as-we-imagined-it-would-be/</link>
		<comments>http://www.theeveningdawns.com/the-end-is-never-as-we-imagined-it-would-be/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Tue, 09 Nov 2010 07:21:50 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Keisha</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Uncategorized]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[culture]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[keisha bush]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[New York City]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Writing]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.theeveningdawns.com/?p=917</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Oh woe, the brown girl said. I’ve got nothing left to give. My breath run thin, my heart turned cold. My light fled south to the depths of Hades, where even the brightest star has turned its back on me. Its light smothered in the blackness of my plight, my struggle, my pain.

Oh leave me be. I’ve got nothing left to give. Sucked dry of my milk, my laugh, my hope; you look at me with expectation that I should give you the rest. But I’ve already told you. I ain’t got nothin' left to give.

Here I die beneath the hot salty sands of another world. No heaven for me. I was too much the fool to get on that boat. Gave my seat to another thinking he was best than me. Ride high the clouds yonder across the red sea to a reality, much better than this. But no not for me. I don’t deserve nothin' good. This girl stands here alone. [...]]]></description>
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		</item>
		<item>
		<title>The Strangling</title>
		<link>http://www.theeveningdawns.com/the-strangling/</link>
		<comments>http://www.theeveningdawns.com/the-strangling/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Fri, 05 Nov 2010 07:31:41 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Keisha</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Uncategorized]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[humor]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[keisha bush]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[New York City]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Writing]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.theeveningdawns.com/?p=911</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[You play with words. Condescend. Twist and lie. I stand here listening to your shit with no place to hide. Infestation, poison slivers through my veins. I shiver, shake with rage. I breathe. Woo sah. That shit don’t work. Ommmmmm. All I see is the devil.

You’ve got no class, self-respect or courage. I took pity on you. Now you try to play me for a fool. Don’t look at me. You’re shit ain’t dope. Spineless accusations fall flat. Your flavor stale, your style is whack.

When did fear creep back; take center stage. No course of action. I stand here reacting. About to ignite, ensue a blood filled fight. And beneath the moonlight? The lights flicker. Untempered rage, asphyxiates. The earth shrinks. My suffering multiplies.

  [...]]]></description>
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		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Secrets</title>
		<link>http://www.theeveningdawns.com/secrets/</link>
		<comments>http://www.theeveningdawns.com/secrets/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Fri, 01 Oct 2010 22:34:59 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Keisha</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Uncategorized]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[culture]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[keisha bush]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[musings]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[New York City]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[relationships]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Writing]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.theeveningdawns.com/?p=863</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[When the sky is at its blackest, the streets at their quietest, it is then that I allow my thoughts to run to him. I envision his face, his back, his hands, his legs as clear as day as I hide behind the cloak of night. When no mirrors can expose the guilt I feel as I yearn for the caress of his hands against my naked thighs or the shiver that runs course through my body at his unwavering gaze.

The one who hurt me and of whom I should no longer care; I play a game of bygones during the day, but beneath the anonymity of the blackest nights, when even the moon hides its face, I fall weak and wander back into the solace of his arms. My unyielding love for him exposed. I suffer to feel his breath run rivers along my neck; his lips against mine; his tongue protruding the insides of my mouth in search of the answers he so desperately needs. [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>On the A Train</title>
		<link>http://www.theeveningdawns.com/on-the-a-train/</link>
		<comments>http://www.theeveningdawns.com/on-the-a-train/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sun, 29 Aug 2010 02:17:32 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Keisha</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Uncategorized]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[culture]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[keisha bush]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[musings]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[New York City]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Writing]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.theeveningdawns.com/?p=807</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[The cool stone bottom brushes my brown skin, its coarse texture scraping the soft flesh. The pain comforting as I submerge deeper. I hold my breath, the feeling heightens. I spread my wings as feathers fall away, the bottom too coarse for their delicate nature. It's my stop, the A train to High Street. I float down the sunny Brooklyn sidewalk to a place unknown. People mill around me, others walk with determination. They have someplace to be. Right now. Actually, yesterday. It’s New York. Everyone, everything is late. Always. Rush to get there. It was due yesterday, five minutes ago, a second ago. 

A movie with a view. The Statue of Liberty stands in the background. Her arms tired from holding that goddamn torch.  Stuck in the middle of nowhere surrounded by everywhere as others look to her for something she can’t give. Never could. Never will.

A picnic. Food. Laughter. Wine. Red please. I don’t care for White. Three yellow plastic cups later I'm high as I float across the cold wet grass, contented with the unyielding pain. The crude bottom ripping, scraping at my delicacies tickles my fancy. I could have sex right now. [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>1</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>The Passing</title>
		<link>http://www.theeveningdawns.com/the-passing/</link>
		<comments>http://www.theeveningdawns.com/the-passing/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 07 Apr 2010 20:37:16 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Keisha</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Uncategorized]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[keisha bush]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[musings]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Writing]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.theeveningdawns.com/?p=580</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Stunted desire litters upon those who witnessed it.
Gripped with the uncertainty, hearts trapeze.
Crumbled as time compresses,
Hate wrecks havoc amongst all amidst.
Is it not life, moving forward?
Wants fade. Turn to ash.
The wrinkles pile. [...]]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://www.theeveningdawns.com/the-passing/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
		<title>A Poem</title>
		<link>http://www.theeveningdawns.com/the-moon-is-visible/</link>
		<comments>http://www.theeveningdawns.com/the-moon-is-visible/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 20 Jan 2010 02:57:06 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Keisha</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Uncategorized]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[keisha bush]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[musings]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Writing]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.theeveningdawns.com/?p=359</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Children everywhere
In new clothes and shined shoes
Laughing and romping
Firecrackers tear off along dirt roads
Generators hum, loud into the night
It’s the New Year, a celebration [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
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