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 Feb 2014 fifi S
SE Reimer
like
the blues,
eventually, the song
will end, inevitabily it will;
making way for sunnier tunes,
life's cycles that bring my sadness can be counted on 
to bring my hope... my ever reminder
that life, like the earth, is not flat
and doesn't revolve
around
me!
Post script.

there are days, sometimes whole seasons,
i must remind myself every moment...
"it's not about you, Steve, it's really not about you!"

(and yes, i do love blues... and jazz!! :)
 Feb 2014 fifi S
SE Reimer
~
a taste for crab driving him mad
with the early morning’s outgoing tide
away he bobbed among the waves
like a floating bottle he did ride
for lacking a boat, he climbed on a life ring
for bait, a chicken wing and thigh
the last to see him bobbing claimed
they saw a dorsal fin nearby
some say that surely he made land again
that he’s gone home to bake his take
but i say don’t expect too much
for i think he met an awful fate
for surely what can one expect?
when a man gets a wild hair
and off he goes on a bobbing ring
with only a wing and a prayer
~
post script.  

a taste for crab, so i’m off to the pacific tomorrow with friends.  
the anticipation got me licking my chops so I rambled off
this silly ditty.  i promise she is a sturdy boat and will bring us
all safely home with crab in tow.  
crab cakes anyone?
 Feb 2014 fifi S
Theia Gwen
You pointed at the door
And told me you were done trying
And that I'd be out of the house pretty soon
I realize that was supposed to be a threat
But I looked out the window
And found myself hypnotized
By the snow rising and falling
Performing a dance in the wind
And I thought about walking outside
With only the clothes on my back
21°
And as my hands turned blue
I'd realize how tired I was
And make a pillow in the snow
And curl up and go to sleep
And maybe, just maybe
I'd wake up in a better place
 Feb 2014 fifi S
Theia Gwen
When did skinny become synonymous with happy?
I wish I could tell that girl that being 120 pounds
Won't make her any happier than she was at 140 pounds
And she'll still feel fat and ugly at 90
And nothing will ever change
I wish I could tell her that she is more
Than the number on the scale
But I know she wouldn't believe me
She's been raised to hate her body
Obsessed with protruding bones
That look like they're about the break through the flesh
Her vision blurs the image in the toilet bowl
She flushed down her salad and her dreams
Cause beauty tastes like ***** to her
She has the bullets in the gun
But she won't deliver the fatal blow
Just etches more tally marks in her skin
Because she wants to be perfect at the morgue
I can't think of a more slow and strategic suicide
I wonder
When did unhealthy mean beauty,
Our bodies become war zones,
When did skinny become synonymous with happy?
And most of all,
When did that girl become me?
 Feb 2014 fifi S
Ryan Bowdish
Tonight my sheets are so cold
And my body is like ice
And angel, truth be told
To sleep with you'd be nice.

— The End —