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 Dec 2017 Jas
Nat Lipstadt
at the point of entry (explicit)

it does not strike me strange
at the point of entry
when the heightened senses and the dark subconscious merge

when the lust and the sweat intersect
with ego desire and self is everlasting everything
that the ***** words secretion is sticky on my tongue

when I pant poems born in rawness and tears
on this the last day of the year
and eyes closed see visions extraordinaire
and the Maker whispers in both ears see!

it is the see of what is me,
it is the point of entry and departure,
one and the same,
conception an immaculate mess,
the emptying and the fulfilling, when unkempt promises
are born free flowing and semi-truths transform into
actualities unforeseen and my child cells of new poems
are injected, stored, awaiting the birthright
and the death of publication,
my moment of privileged perfection passes
and frowns and smiles are
one and the same, silken thread wove open and shut

the precision precious circumcising of flesh and soul departing

the utter collapse from within, the drowning in the amniotic,
rebirthing rebutting my denying that I have no more to give

I believe I belong to you for it is what the desire firing cylinders
say repeatedly in the union of the up and the down cycle:

come, come inside me,
I am the pleasure
you are the treasure
in one cup measured
conjoined container
when the point of entry is the point of departure
and with eyes closed from satisfaction and prayer
I see everything all at the same time, uttering:

I am undone utterly and the difference between
the end and the beginning can be seen only
at the millisecond long seven decade coming
point of entry

12/31/17 5:38am dawn dying and new day mourning
explicit point of entry 12/31 nml
 Nov 2017 Jas
Meg B
Shrink
 Nov 2017 Jas
Meg B
Inside I feel so big,
My feelings are so big,
But I am always left to
Feel like I'm small,





I am so small.
 Nov 2017 Jas
Meg B
SOS
 Nov 2017 Jas
Meg B
SOS
Why is it so hard for me to love myself?
Things that I see in others
I see with such admiration,
but when I see myself,
it's as if I've become blind.
What I know of so surely as good
is somehow bad as it pertains to me,
and what I recognize as existing in someone else
suddenly becomes unrecognizable within myself.
I focus so earnestly on my feelings for you
and for them
and for everything, everyone, every cause around me;
so, then, why don't I focus on the same
for myself?
How easily can I tell
a woman abused that it wasn't her fault,
that she should bare no shame,
yet somehow, all the absuse that I suffered,
I was the cause, I am to blame.
I know they say, whoever they is,
that you can't love anyone till you love yourself,
but most days I feel I love everyone
except for myself.
And it's truly strange,
because it seems to come in waves,
and now that I'm toying with the idea of
loving again,
I am struggling to wade in the riptide.
I can't drown in you if I can't stay afloat,
I can't swim with you until I find myself
(a life boat).
 Nov 2017 Jas
Evan Stephens
Out with my ex wife
almost in the old haunts
like the bar where we saw
the Hungarian jazz band
with the wild accordion man,
the same bar where she first said
it was over, all cards were dealt
& it was a losing hand.

Bringing her there,
more angry now
but less burdened,
clearer in that way,
as she coaxes me out
from the silent shell
I wear as habitually
as the old houndstooth coat.

Drink after drink -
coffee, coffee-flavored beer,
just beer by the end -
felt like old times.
Walking the miles,
the benighted embassies,
trying to guess them by flag.
Seeing us, you might almost
believe the night didn't come
& chill us to the bone.
 Nov 2017 Jas
A
You
 Nov 2017 Jas
A
You
I've always seen you.
Standing in the hallways,
Talking with your friends.
And I wanted the moment to stay.

I've always liked you,
Your hair and face and smile,
The way you are,
The way you live and love all the while.

I'll never be able to admit it,
It's too much to bear,
I'm afraid that if I confess,
All my love will go somewhere.

So I'm content with watching,
A quiet background figure,
And maybe, just maybe,
You'll see me over there.
He is two -
Like a vinyl record--
he has an 'A' side
and a 'B' side;
guess which one
I love to listen to,
on repeat,
over,
and over,
again?

He is two -
Like cuttlery--
A knife
and a fork -
one is sharp
and cuts deep,
and one picks me up;
guess which one
I love to spoon?

He is two -
Both,
the sun,
and the moon;
and I,
... well,
I was doomed
from the beginning,
just like a shooting star;
guess which one
I fell for?

By Lady R.F. (C)2017
 Nov 2017 Jas
D
weak
 Nov 2017 Jas
D
On my own
I taught myself to believe
In everyone but myself
Until the time came I had
No choice but to see the truth
I was worthy, too

On my own
I fought to live through days
I never imagined I could escape
Thought I'd be trapped there
Reliving all the mistakes that
Led to those moments
Haven't written in over two months, nothing feels right including this but here I go.
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