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 Sep 2018 Deul
C E Cowart
Through the sky
Through the clouds
Through the rain
Through the hail
Through the storm
Through the thunder
Through the lightning
Through the disaster
Through the destruction
Through the dirt, where everything returns
Through the roots
Through the tree
Through the air
Through the lungs
Through the nose
Through everything in between and back again.
You're always there.
 Aug 2018 Deul
scully
it is about you.
no lovesickness to rock your empty body.
no guilt to beat like a drum in your chest.
no anger, no hurt,
it is about your skin.
about the light that you drink with morning coffee.
how it reflects off of your curves.
about the corners of your mouth.
about your cold feet,
your gentle hands.
it is about the grass in your toes.
the air around you, above you, below you.
the water that you drink from.
the earth will take care of your wild roots,
your wild hair,
your wild smile. the earth will take
care of your lovesickness,
all of your pain.
all of your guilt.
you touch the world with your gentle hands and
it always touches you back.
you are composed of what touches you back,
what you can sit still and listen to.
what buzzes inside of you,
what you contain and
what you allow to escape.
it is about you,
it has always been about you. not
your hurt, not what callouses your palms or
haunts your clasped prayers.
it is just about your body,
every part of your body,
from the bottoms of your feet
to your fingertips, your
nose, the ends of your hair,
it is about listening when the
earth tells you, this body is
okay. this body is enough.
it is
about how everything you touch
always touches back.
 Aug 2018 Deul
Nicholas Fonte
Keep in mind
That it is at the center
Of the rain
Is where you will find
Her
Mixed in with the pain
And every tear
And fight
And even more
She
Remains untouched
There is no fear
Just joy
All is great
He
Is blessed in corruption
Sewn with despair
Drenched in the same rain
That is where you will find
Him
There is nothing to compare
From within the disruption
Yet out there is a place to be touched
Just like a dream or nightmare
You
Are what decides this fate
He who is locked in the dark
Looking for her light
The choice is ready to embark
 Jul 2018 Deul
Rileigh Shanks
Once in the midst of a bleak October, as I wandered, meek and sober,
Over the piles of crisp and crunchy leaves on the lonely forest floor–
I began to ponder what was true, when suddenly there came into view
As if someone carelessly threw, through the forest’s ****,
Some wood and glass and shingles, amidst the forest’s ****.
A House, there stood, with a solitary door.

“A lonely House,” I muttered, and promptly thereafter shuddered
At the whisperings I had uttered, and the weight that each word bore.
This lonely House seemed haunted, yet part of me still wanted
To carry on undaunted, and discover what was in store —
What, beyond the creaky porch and faded walls, did lie in store.
I approached the solitary door.

Trembling and trepid I clambered up the stairs, poised for any future scares.
Each shaky breath lingered as I faced the lonesome door,
With a **** I began rapping, gently — ever so gently — tapping,
Hoping that my slapping, admission beyond would implore.
But it soon became clear there was no one to implore.
With that, I opened up the door.

As my eyes to this new dim lighting did adjust, I noticed first the layer of dust
That covered every table, every curtain, every drawer.
Photos hung on all the walls, from floor to ceiling and down the halls,
I could nearly hear the calls from the faces framed in the House’s decor;
From every piece and parcel of this House’s aberrant decor.
Behind me closed the lonesome door.

It was then that I first noticed, abruptly and in the remotest,
Something even more erratic than before.
The walls — they were breathing! The lungs inside were seething.
I could even hear a beating, beating beneath the floor;
A heartbeat — I swore it was! — beating beneath the floor.
I turned and fled toward the door.

Locked! The door was locked! I recoiled as if struck and balked.
In my panic to escape I stumbled and swore.
I felt the House around me shiver, every photo began to quiver,
A shuddering sigh it did deliver, as I stared blankly at the solitary door.
The single, lonesome, solitary door.
My efforts to escape were no more.

Slowly then I turned — I could not deny I was concerned —
As an eerie creak alerted me to the opening of a second door.
Without warning the ground beneath me bucked, and I nearly lost my conduct
As through this door I was ******, and taken to its core;
Deeper into the House I was drawn, and taken to its core.
Behind me closed the second door.

In the next room, I noticed straight away, the House was in much less a state of decay;
Beneath the layer of dust and drear, there were elements I did adore.
Though still ramshackle and broken, this room appeared strong — oaken —
As if it held secrets unspoken, and desired me to explore.
The House, I think it trusted me, and I desired to explore.
The fear I felt — it was no more.

This room was full of closets and chests, all of them locked to prying guests,
Each one a mysterious piece of the House’s hidden lore.
This House, I felt, needed to be known, though its secrets were rarely shown
And it was accustomed to being alone, so I wanted to know it more.
The curiosity inside of me longed to know more.
Yet I was wary now, unlike before.

“How could something so exquisite,” I murmured as I paid the pictures a visit,
“Be left so empty, so dark and dusty, so completely uncared for?”
Again I felt the walls throb, releasing a sound like a strangled sob.
“I once had caretakers to do the job, but they ravaged me and left me sore.
Yes, they rattled and ruined me and left me sore.
And for that, newcomers I do deplore.”

I was startled at first, I will admit, by the House’s unexpected wit,
Though not dissuaded even a bit by her poignant roar.
I was more determined than ever to know this House’s heartbreaking tale of woe,
And I longed to in some way show that not everyone wanted war —
This House deserved to be loved and shown that not all people wanted war.
Her confidence I wished to restore.

“Your story is horrific, to be true.  Why would anyone wish to harm you?”
And with sincerity anew, I continued, “Please do not abhor
The state of my ubiety, nor misinterpret my dubiety.
I do not desire to cause anxiety, nor for you to suffer anymore.
I will do my utmost to guarantee, you shall not suffer anymore.”
To this I swore.

“House, you are a treasure. You were meant for so much pleasure.
I can see the perplexities, all the wondrous mysteries in store.
I know you have been hurt, and to outsiders you stand alert,
Your pain has caused you to invert, but I want to know you more.
To study you, to hear you, and to come to know you more.
Only this, and nothing more.”

The House moaned and trembled, “I’ve come too far to be disassembled;
I’ve been whipped and whacked, and been made into a *****.
I used to be addressable, to everyone I was accessible,
My love and trust were irrepressible, once in the days of yore.
I was open, but misunderstood and unexplored, back in the days of yore.
That was all before.

“You see, my design is ever-changing; my rooms are constantly rearranging;
I have closets and chests and attics and cupboards galore.
For most it’s just too much; too much work, too much effort to touch,
So they abandon me as such. For them I became a chore.
Tiresome, irksome, heedlessly rushed through — to them I’m just a chore.
Only this, and nothing more.”

It was here that every wall then shook, every niche and every nook.
“I only long to be truly known, and for the torment I once bore
To be completely disproven, and for a second chance to be given
For someone honorable to move in, to appreciate me to my core.
Someone I can entrust with my rooms, who will know me to my core.”
Then I heard the opening of every lonesome door.

From here the House guided me, and slowly relinquished every key,
Acquainted me with every banshee, and accompanied me to every floor.
Never once did I desert her, it never crossed my mind to hurt her,
And all her scars that once were, after a time were no more.
The longer I stayed, the deeper I knew, and soon her scars were no more.
I daily felt her spirit soar.

It’s been years since House and I first met, and I’ve never been to her a threat.
She’s never had reason to fret, because this haunted House I do adore.
Some days are hard; sometimes I find she’s on her guard,
Or a window she has barred, but I never have need to implore.
No longer do I wonder and fear, nor ever have need to implore.
For I know what lies behind every lonesome door.
 Jul 2018 Deul
Aaron Bee
Untitled
 Jul 2018 Deul
Aaron Bee
Holding hands with children
Shiny red balloons
you fear to let go,
holding for dear life.
The future is here
kids grow nearer
to the world we shelter them from.
A bull running faster and faster
your heart can't take
another surprise.
Future is now , shiny-er
than ever. Optimism rains,
perfection is strived, tomorrow's
problems are solved and
today. Progress is
continuing.
Future's are secured
 May 2018 Deul
LostInFire
SOMETIME
 May 2018 Deul
LostInFire
Sometime you hurt me
Sometime i do
Sometime you massage me
Sometime i do
Sometime you forget me
Thats the only thing
"I NEVER DO"
a short poem no so good but still mean alot to mee
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