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 May 2014 Audrey
Lone Wolf
Religion
 May 2014 Audrey
Lone Wolf
I don't believe in your god.
I know, you think I'll burn in hell.
I believe in my gods though.
That has to count for something

I follow the old traditions.
Many gods, they personify
The natural occurrences
the ancients couldn't explain.

I know you think I'll burn in hell
And I know you think I should be scared.
And I know you want to "save me"
By converting me to your god.

But my ancestors roll in their grave
At the thoughts of me abandoning
The traditions I've learnt from my family
They're your family too, don't you remember?

It's your sister that taught me,
About the myths of our people
About the time when we thrived
And celebrated our life

Instead of constricting it,
to the words of a book.
Instead of giving it so many rules
Instead of having threats and promises of a hell or heaven

But to each their own.
You live how you want
Just let me live,
how i want, too.
I wrote this last weekend, at my grandmothers house. She's strictly Christian, and is always trying to convert me. I'm Wiccan, pagan, whichever you wish to call it. I don't strictly follow any religion. I incorporate many myths, along with science, to form my opinion of the world. I live by the motto "and ye harm none, do what ye will" so I harm none. I don't eat meat. I try to keep my anger in check, I don't fight back. I'm still human, I slip up, no ones perfect. And I can't help but get angry when people try to shove their religion down my throat.
May I kiss you?
Just for today
Just for an instant-
A moment-

Just for a day
May I kiss you?

May I kiss you?
In the rain
In the snow-
In the spring-

Just for a season
May I kiss you?

May I kiss you
Just for a moment
For alas I know
Not of the future

And even a kiss today
Is more than I can dream.
This is about all the times where I wanted to ask a stranger or someone I hardly knew for a kiss. All the thoughts of walking down a crowded street and seeing a young beauty and asking her for a kiss. This is a poem about the spontaneity and romanticism that I never took and how everytime I think of that opportunity I never took it reminds me of my mortality slipping away.
 May 2014 Audrey
unwritten
skies
 May 2014 Audrey
unwritten
When it's raining
I can't decide
If it's the sky
Screaming out in agony,
With broken roars of thunder
And brilliant, crashing streaks of lightning
Or
If it's the sky
Releasing all it has to offer
In gentle tears of rain
Filled with all the sorrows
And regrets
Of its blue wonderland.

Maybe the sky
Is never sure how
To release all its anger,
All its sadness,
All its confusion.
And so on some days
It rains,
Crying softly.
And on others,
It screams
And shouts
With thunder.

Maybe we
Are like the sky.

(a.m.)
 May 2014 Audrey
Theia Gwen
I am stuck in a long hallway
Of mirrors
Each one shows something new
And unfamiliar
I can't even tell
Which one is me
Because I have expectations
But I can't see reality
I wish I could just perform
A vanishing act
Because I can't stand
The image that reflects
I am done with seeing
Elongated arms and chubby legs
And that twisted symphony
Repeating in my head
The number on the scale
Can never get too small    
Cause the mirror looks the same
When I leave the bathroom stall
Always something different
I just wish there was consistency
Because these carnival mirrors
Have got me hating all of me
On body dysmorphic disorder and bulimia. I pretty much feel this way every time I look into a mirror.
 May 2014 Audrey
Xander Duncan
My body is the training ground for
All of the reject demons
My inner demons failed to qualify as the right sort of fight
To match with any worthwhile struggles so

My inner demons are over dramatic children
     They do not wage wars
     They throw tantrums
     They stand inside my temples and pound the walls
     When they do not get what they want
     And shriek ringing into my ears until they turn blue
     Then fall asleep when they get tired
     Forgetting that they were supposed to be upset
My inner demons are pretentious
     They call themselves demons
     When they are more like imps
     They tickle at anxiety with the nerve to call it an attack
     And separate velcro and seams with the audacity to say that
     They broke something
     Then press on my heart
     Daring to call it an ache
My inner demons are clumsy
     They walk with their toes curling around my eyelashes
     And slip and spill their handfuls of tears
     At inopportune moments
     As I tremble due to the ones
     That have tripped and tangled themselves
     In my heartstrings and vocal cords
     Causing me to grasp my rib cage in desperate attempts to reach them
     And tear apart the inconveniences
My inner demons are shy
     They sway in my veins to the rhythmic pulse
     With clawed hands outstretched to the blue walled sky
     Cautious to never leave a scratch through my skin
     They dance on nerve endings and muscle tissue
     With footwork just gentle enough to not summon bruises
     And hold themselves still against my capillaries
     As if their presence might distract my blood from
     Its daily circulation
My inner demons are hoarders
     They over-stuff the filing cabinets in my brain
     With reports and analysis of too many situations
     And pick up old emotions and hide them in the recesses
     Of each ventricle and aorta
     Creating pseudo-space for newer, stranger, replicas
     Then pack extra breaths into my lungs
     Storing "just in case" inhalations and overused sighs
     They insulate their homes with extra calories and extra clothes
     Hiding until they can forget themselves
My inner demons are moody
     They like to stitch up new wounds with the thorns of roses
     And pry open old ones with feathers
     They tie my tongue with pages of foreign textbooks
     They tie my tongue in gauze and cotton
     They tie my tongue with other tongues
     And pins and needles and teeth and drawstrings
     They are self depreciating and they know that they
     Are not worthy of their title

My inner demons are pathetic
     I suppose they're right where they belong
 May 2014 Audrey
r
Two Strings
 May 2014 Audrey
r
Paul,
   Paul
you plucked those two strings
and **** near took
me to my knees.
Knocked the breath
right out of me.

r ~ 5/9/14

The Black Guitar

Clearing out ten years from a wardrobe
I opened its lid and saw Joe
written twice in its dust, in a child's hand,
then a squiggled seagull or two.

                                                    Joe, Joe

a man's tears are worth nothing,
but a child's name in the dust, or in the sand
of a darkening beach, that's a life's work.

I touched two strings, to hear how much
two lives can slip out of tune

                                                then I left it,
brought down the night on it, for fear, Joe
of hearing your unbroken voice, or the sea
if I played it.


The Black Guitar, Paul Henry
http://www.serenbooks.com/news/paul-henrys-the-black-guitar-is-the-guardian-blogs-poem-of-the-week
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