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Her footsteps were as light as could be
as she ran across the void,
glowing in the cloudless night
as far as the eye could see.
She stopped slowly, eyes wide with realization,
She could be free.

So, she stood, head held high;
Shoulders stiff, holding the weight of the sky,
as she faced her labyrinth of pain.
Of lies and suffering.
Of utter agony.

She let not one tear fall
as she walked on,
determined to flee from the place
she had once called her safe haven.

They never did see her again.
She disappeared without a trace.
Lost inside her own mind, they said.

Oh well,
She was one of many they had to pull the plug on.

She wouldn’t notice it anyway.

They never did.
The first poem I've ever posted so I hope you like it!
I haven't actually studied the correct way grammaticize poems so any feedback will be appreciated.
Not just the blue river of endless desire,
but the stark redness of the burning fire,
eating up the logs; the flames swallowing them,
like what I do to get rid of the dry throat
I get just from seeing you.
You stop in front of me and let your eyes wander
and I look at you as you quietly will me to
do things I've never thought of doing.
You pull my shirt off over my head and our
arms tangle into each other as though we're playing
a two player game of knots. We try to untangle
our hands but instead our legs get involved, and our
bodies are a mess on your bed as I pull your shirt off
over your head. Our breathing flows on in rapid gasps as
if we're scared we'll somehow get so caught up in each other
that we'll forget to breathe.
Your hands on my body as it roams everywhere, stroking every
flaw on my body, and suddenly, they start to feel beautiful. And
like that fire, your touch burns my body, leaving a trail of
tingle wherever you touch, and I knew right then that the
only thing that'll make this burning better is more of that
very same touch.
And maybe I'm a ******* because I like this pain you inflict
on me and I know I can't have you but I can't stop myself
from wanting you.
And I know I might be selfish 'cause this blue river that flows
on, I don't want to share it's water with anyone in this world,
except for you.
-a prayer for Jan 24th, Day of Shame. From the year 2217,
from the service book of a future denomination

It is time for repentance,
the annual pilgrimage.
To the doors of heaven
and the odours of hell.

     Let us visit your creation,
     the blessed pipe that bleeds.

Let us cross the barbedwire,
let us enter the tunnel.
Let us hear the trickling stream,
let us smell your ineffable breath.

     Let us visit our souls,
     our inner vagrant selves.

Let us look down into the black current
and watch your great flowing face.
And through it, in it, while we watch,
we sinners recognize ourselves.

     Let us visit your revelation,
     our tested veins that bleed.

From the deserts of the great plains
to the drowned cities of the coasts...
Your whip on our spines
confirms the evil that we host.
Inspired by ****/Zelazny's novel Deus Irae, about the survivors of a devastating war who started worshipping the architect of devastation as their god, in order to make sense of their crushed situation. And by uncle Don's decision to fill his wallet by building a pipeline in vulnerable territory with religious significance. And by Don's flock of eager believers, whose descendants may find themselves in an unexpected and rather demanding world.
 Dec 2016 Glasgow Girl G1
Amanda
I am listening for the name to be called of our next President.
I am listening for the ring of the Liberty Bell to sound again.
I am listening for happiness to be discussed on the sidewalks of my town.
I am listening for my name to be called on graduation day.
I am listening for my name to be called on commencement day.
I am listening for the buzz of the city outside of my apartment in Boston.
I am listening for a pleasant change to be reverberated throughout society.
I am listening for a rebirth of happiness to excite the nation.
I am listening for the happiness inside me to awaken.
I am listening for that voice inside my head that encourages me.
I am listening for the sound of true love that speaks from the heart.
I am listening for the words, "Will you marry me?"
I am listening for the cries of a baby.
I am listening for the endless, "I love you's."
I am listening for the cries of a second child.
I am listening for the gentle small talk of dog walkers in my suburban neighborhood.
I am listening for the rush of busy work that floods my office.
I am listening for endless presentations I must listen to in order to pay my bills.
I am listening for the excitement in my friends' voices when they tell me they're engaged.
I am listening for the cries of my friends' babies.
I am listening for my children's names to be called on their graduation day.
I am listening for the sermons at my parents' funerals.
I am listening for this cycle to repeat itself throughout time.
I am listening for the afternoon breeze tickling the tree branches as I sit beside my husband in rocking chairs in our later years.
I am listening for that voice in my head to tell me that I did it, that I lived an amazing life.
Finally, I am listening for the sound of God's voice to say one word, "Welcome".
 Nov 2016 Glasgow Girl G1
Ja
CUCKOO
 Nov 2016 Glasgow Girl G1
Ja
Why is it that, a cuckoo
Is locked up in a clock
While lunatics with guns
Are left, to run amuck
WIZDUMBs BY JA 221
 Nov 2016 Glasgow Girl G1
Ja
When sunshine hits my window
Its beams dispense their plume
Just like you, light up my heart
By entering the room
BOEMS BY JA 622
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