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 Jul 2021 Johnnyqu33r
Jamie Riley
Pete told me he killed someone
When he was a policeman
He was only 23
Him and PC Brooks got called to
number 1, consista court
Arthur was an 84
Year old naked grandad
Arms and legs were red raw
As he lay in the bath
Quietly groaning
His daughter was sobbing
And Pete remembers it all

Brooks and Pete they reassure
Tell him he's a right plonker
And Pete takes the shower head
Tests it first and showers him
With cold water on his legs
Skin peels in his hands
And Pete feels something
That won't ever go away.

It's ok, Pete.

Pete's proud of his daughter
Shows me her on his phone
She competes in gymnastics
On a balance beam doing back flips;
He's met Elton John
Was given a tour of his home,
He earns enough to get by
But wants to start a landscaping business.
 Jul 2021 Johnnyqu33r
Diesel
Alone the world has alway' been,
In cold the space where planet bend,
Next mars or pluto lit between —
But none would ever bother them.
Then stands alone this human being
And wonder where he'd travel then:

He flies to worlds beyond the stars,
Can mend the dream before his will,
Can think of ogres, wizards all;
Can think a way into a thrill:
But further down he might recall
Where evil hides and watches still.

While mission plans fall on a whim,
And rarely do they e'en come true,
Man revisits one for him —
And hopes that someone listens too:
Like father to us all children
And mother like the earthy moon.
 Jul 2021 Johnnyqu33r
SCHEDAR
Exhausted slumber,
in deepest Lamentation,
enveloped by my own skin,
Blood Memory of her
seeps in

Dancestry transforms
as art knocks
at my door
I am reminded by
her spirited moves that,
Every Soul is a Circus

Life cycles
in contractions and
slow releases
of breath

Beaming
clavicles reach up to
behold morning's sunrise

As golden rays
tirelessly
leap upon the stage
of a brand new season,
Appalachian Spring

Rescued by the
graceful universe of
contemporary
dance
An ode to Martha Graham, her book ,
"Blood Memory" and
choreographed dances,
"Lamentation"
"Every Soul is a Circus"and
"Appalachian Spring"
With hopes to see Martha Graham Dance Company perform again in NYC
 Jul 2021 Johnnyqu33r
Janet Doyle
The shadows were long across the vale
as the witch fires rose and flared,
And dreams were strange and lingering
of eyes the seduced and glared,
Shadows writhed obscenely along,
a sight that would scar the soul,
Like fingers stretching to twine in your hair,
to tangle and knot and pull,
Dark hands to ***** for life’s blood scent,
excited as hearts beat fast,
And bitten lips that quiver with lust,
wanting only a feast that would last,
When witch fires flare and the night is too dark,
Hate’s shadows come to play,
And woe be the ones who sleep in the vale,
so serene and inviting by day,
And the black breeze sings a siren’s call
as moon flowers shine in the night,
And the western moon sits low in the sky
turning her eyes at the sight.

JDoyle
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