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 May 2016 Kush
South-by-Southwest
Two abandoned swings . . .
that said ,
that be between
the moon's shadows ,
are only shadow thin
as close as skin on skin
Just swing and swing holding hands
Holding moonlight's shadowed twin
 May 2016 Kush
ryn
.

"Quieten down...
Release your anchor, and sink into bed."


"I can't...
The whims of the world are much to heavy...
For me not to bother."


"The weight of the world isn't yours to bear...
It'll sort itself out,
if only you'd give it time to spare..."


"But that's just it, isn't it?
If only there's enough time for all of it to fit.
The ******* truth is...
there's never enough.
There can never be for those built with edges so rough."


"Why are you so sure
about something that has yet to happen?
When future's sand has yet to be spilled,
and its ink has yet to be written."


"Because that's just me.
I am a being fraught with worry.
You know that.
It's the only way I can be ready.
It's the only way I can be steady."


"Then allow me to keep you company.
For I am you, as much as you are me.
Till such time you eventually feel,
that you're ready to retire and heal."


"Thank you...
Your words comfort me much.
I welcome you,
to see me through this chaos in my head.
I've severed the anchor...
Let us sail to tranquillity,
leave the turbidity in our wake.
And replace it with
peaceful dreams in its stead."




ryn
ryn

.
You know you've lost your marbles when you write pieces such as this.
.
 May 2016 Kush
Akira Chinen
Paper planes weren't made to cross the ocean
Not the Pacific or the Atlantic
Paper hearts weren't made to burn all night
A quick flame and a bright flash
Paper loves weren't written to last forever
Nothing more than a rhyme and a rhythm
But then my paper love turned real like Pinocchio
And sold my soul to the darkness below
And my paper heart burns but refuses to turn to ash
The fire growing brighter and hotter everyday
And the paper planes circle high around the moon
Over the ocean to give my heart to you
And now I'm made of paper
And my blood has turned to ink
And my marrow is the pulp to the pulse
And you're now my paper queen
With my paper heart
A jewel in your crown
As I'm just a paper fool
A paper puppet
A paper love
Ruled by you
 May 2016 Kush
Torin
Wine
 May 2016 Kush
Torin
The wine on my lips recalls memories of this
Your love in the tincture of a grape
The flavor of the skin
The flesh, the pulp
My cup overflowing
Suffusing my tongue
Pervading my blood
Saturating all of me
A remembrance of a time I was drunk

The taste of red wine brings it all back to mind
The vineyards of sun and clusters grown
The tendrils of the plant
The trunk, the vine
The roots digging deep
The sprout of a seed
The flourishing leaves
The sweetest of fruits to me
A remembrance of a time I was drunk
 May 2016 Kush
Tom Blake
Light
 May 2016 Kush
Tom Blake
Darkness, beside you I want to lie
Your Face is the Moon
The Stars, your Eyes.
The Ebony Heavens is your Hair
Which
Winds North and South
Blow
Everywhere.
 May 2016 Kush
John Hawkins
when words become flat,
their definitions frail or forgotten

they blur and mingle with each other,
like a cluster of long-legged spiders making love

no longer a block of text to be interpreted or understood,
but an illustration triggering loose and fleeting thoughts

thoughts uncoordinated and fatuous,
but there they are
 May 2016 Kush
Gidgette
Fading
 May 2016 Kush
Gidgette
You're dying, you know
Your memory
The way you smell
Almost gone
The flecks of colour in your eyes
Are fading
The callouses on your hands against my bare skin
Did that ever happen?
Your voice,
Could've been the wind,
Or a crows call
You're dying
If not for the sound of your heart,
Still beating in my ear,
You'd be dead already
The memory of you will fade,
And fade
A memory of a memory
I will forget your smile,
The sound of your voice,
I'll forget the way you always smell like freshly cut grass
The way you look in orange
But the sound of your heart beating,
When I laid my head on your chest. . . . .
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