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 Feb 2015 JM
chimaera
distress
 Feb 2015 JM
chimaera
the wormy crawling

carving
pricking

a swarm hum
this sick agony
of stone wet cold

wrackful certitude
of the unseen

a pebble amongst pebbles
found to be thrown far

forgotten
19.2.2015
 Feb 2015 JM
Francie Lynch
I was going to read,
"Death Comes for the Archbishop,"
But the cover gave it away.
 Feb 2015 JM
i am miss brightside
This is how forever starts.*

Eight-letter word, poisoned goodbyes.
Fabricated stories of promises,
concealed truth--
Pure lies.

I tasted death, hot and raw,
On my lips.
Sipping more, letting the venom creeps.
Deep.
Down.
Deep.

Dark becomes darker now.

Squeezing sounds of muscles coming faster in the background.
Undeniable pain,
I scream.
Swiftly losing sane,
A traumatic dream.

Alone.
With no one to find me.
To save me, I  know,
No one will dare.

Time hanging is lifeless.
Naked, with only hopelessness.
A picture of creature so worthless.

Yet, from somewhere You came and found me.
My day is doomed, but You set me apart.
My bondages, brokeness,
mistakes and awful past.
You paid it all when You shed Your blood.
A selfless love.
You'll never know what life is until you die--
in Christ.
 Feb 2015 JM
The Good Pussy
.

                                    S
                             i     i  d    i
                         d       e  c         d
                       e           h              e
                      c             i                 c
                    h              c                  h
                    i               k                    i
                   c             S     i                 c
                   k             d    e                k
                    S             c   h               S
                      i             i  c              i
                        d            k            d
                             e       S         e
                                       i
                                       d
                                       e
 Feb 2015 JM
Helen
You penned a soliloquy
yet I heard my own voice
You spoke of your own hardship
yet you gave me no choice
You talked about your pain
yet I writhe in agony
You penned a soliloquy
yet you said nothing worthy

You spoke of nothing but yourself
you spoke only of your pain
You spoke of a singular truth
you forgot to mention my heart slain

What?
You couldn't write a sonnet?
14 artful lines are not that long
You couldn't Acrostic this?
I HURT SOMEONE

No!

You write a soliloquy
Where your discourse is so obtuse!
Even in the form of Poetry
you deny me

*Is it the truth?
 Feb 2015 JM
Haydn Swan
Push it
 Feb 2015 JM
Haydn Swan
Dig that finger right into the darkest recesses of your mind,
push it,
feel the pain,
search through the darkness,
watch it rain

pull open that weeping wound
push it
touch the disease
run for the shadows
feel it ease
 Feb 2015 JM
The Good Pussy
.
                
                                     E
                            v     v  e     v
                         e        y  d        e
                       r           a  y           r
                     y              E               y
                    d               v                d
                    a               e                 a
                    y               r                 y
                    E            y     d            E
                      v          a      y          v
                        e          E   v         e
                           r          e          r
                               y      r      y
                                       y
                                       d
                                       a
                                       y
 Feb 2015 JM
Francie Lynch
Our shelves are stacked
With novels
Retelling the journey.
Before novels,
There was poetry.

Our textbooks
Bind essays
Explaining and outlining
The thoughts
Of great thinkers.
Before essays,
There was poetry.

Our stage,
Our world,
Are replete
With dramas
Mirroring our plight.
Before drama,
There was poetry.

Before poetry,
There was
The Great Boom,
Expanding into
The vacuum;
Making the universe
Our metaphor.
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