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 Nov 2014 Grace Pickard
Ander
Heart
 Nov 2014 Grace Pickard
Ander
I sign up,
just to mark it with my heart,
and follow you,
although baby,
I've forgotten how to hunt.

Difficult to make the right turn now,
maybe left is only
what I'm left with
to stay with breath.
Just maybe..
****** already knows,
where my heart is.
This is a response to ****** (Dajena)
It used to be much easier to tell a story
Linear
A protagonist
An antagonist
A beginning and an end
Two hours
Back to reality
We began to tell our stories in triplicate
Two hours
Wait
Two hours
Wait
Two hours
Conclusion
Now it takes a lifetime to tell a story
Three hours
Wait
Three hours
Wait
Three more hours
Wait wait
Six or seven stretched across a decade
Everything is an epic now
Bright and loud and larger than life
Spinning them out with such carelessness
Undermining the meaning
Money in the pockets
When all I want is a warm quiet room
And a good book
 Nov 2014 Grace Pickard
irinia
"Bring me the sunflower so I can transplant it
to my earth scorched with salt,
so it can display all day to the azure mirrors
of sky the anxiety of its yellow face.

Dark things stretch towards brightness,
bodies exhaust themselves in a flow
of colours: this in music. To vanish
is thus the hazard of venturing.

Bring me the plant that leads
where blond transparencies rise
where life dissolves like essence;
bring me the sunflower crazy with light."

*Eugenio Montale
She smells like marmalade
and Christmas trees.
She cuts her heart
where she places her knees.
She smokes in the park,
under the skating skies.
She makes me upset
and sometimes I make her cry.

Over in the dark,
she plays in the snow.
And if she feels cold,
I touch her chest
but I don't know.

Bask in the bark:
our names on a tree.
Carved with the knife
that she swung at me.

She says she's drowning in my ocean,
but I feel no emotion.

Her words suggest our bond
is as strong as a noose.
But she only loved me
when I was something to lose.
dripping in my own self-pity
don't you think i look so pretty
wondering this big empty city
trying to think of something witty*

what    are    the    right    words    to    make    you   love   me
words   are   all   i   have   to   give,   oh   can't   you   see
i'm  sending  you  every  syllable  i  can  think  of
i'll give you anything, in the name of love
I feel like I'm this endless loop of pathetic.
///
I am the foe, too-
a foolish foe of my muscle's friends
they are well known, the difference between friend and foe

They have sent me in the jail
and after then, for me they have granted a bail
now they are trying to grow my flesh and bone  
they'll eat me day after tomorrow

I am the dark in the heaven
talking too much about the right
that test less, too worthless
as the humanity boring to my friend

Last night they ate a fat cat
who turned to make him as a fat less
he has too many friends,
they have grown as like as my foes, too

They have thought me as a broiler chicken
wish to send me at the right time in the kitchen

I am the dark in the hell
yet I  sing a song of humanity
and ready to make myself to move into the fire, too
I, a foolish foe of my friends, too
///
@ Musfiq us shaleheen
...........I, Foolish Foe, Too- I sing a song of humanity..........
Do you remember Saturday mornings?

Passing notes across the table,
Exchanging juvenile expressions,
Laughing and learning
About who we really were.

It was during this time with you
I discovered myself.
Now I'm lost again, I need your help.

I have forgotten Saturday mornings,
And Friday afternoons,
And every late night.

Do you remember Saturday mornings?
Because I'm trying so hard not to forget.
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