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 May 2020 Viola
Third Eye Candy
Her eyes were like the last cactus in Alaska.
Shrines of blue honey, Always wide and diaphanous.
Glowing in the wind like round kites in Springtime,
So glorious are all the flaws of Her Symmetry
She sways the Tide on a Moon.
So my Love is in Orbit
Because.

Like a Loon.
 May 2020 Viola
Third Eye Candy
Boarded windows bleached by shame and sunlight
clip the view of the smoldering memories of gazing from behind
an ancestral eye, Clutching your Choo-Choo train
as the snow alters the world with a white parade of carpet
stitched in Winters’ bitter Doily. A fabulous crush of delicate ephemera.
The street lamp praying for another life
backlit by the flames of your visitation… stoking your Southern Star.
The House recants the miracles and the broken step that ascends
while mocking your flight.
The crabapples chuck their boredom to the barren nostalgia
where the soil hid a lush lawn for lawn darts
and chiggers.

Returning has to taste like a penny
To Change You.
 May 2020 Viola
Third Eye Candy
On the eastern ***** of the glen, where the bees slept
and the breeze kept vigil-
you could see the Summer trumpet and submit to Beauty
With too many acorns for the Atavist.
But all the fiddle-backs to tickle
your midnight fancy.  
Spruce garnets like Lanterns
of Warm Forever.

Unfit for flowers, but always a Season on Stilts
And opiates.

The cars are parking where the goslings go.
Now the aluminum can is shiny
in the ice on the asphalt
like a Valkyrie.
Little tombstones and caviar
ugly in the barrel.
where the chamber
has a bullet to kiss you with
or a Truth to Put a God
in your Hand.
 May 2020 Viola
Stephen S
Void
 May 2020 Viola
Stephen S
The waves are rather strong
but do not allow yourself
to be consumed by fear.
Unfamiliarity is a friend today.

An adventure need not be vibrant
to be exciting.
Grey can be just as much fun as other colors.
Do not be afraid to take the first step.

Once you are comfortable in the water
you will have no problems finding me
for mine is the most beautiful boat
on this great sea of nothingness...
The carved words and pictures in the cave,
left by honored ancients bold and brave;
Speak of gods with powers from the sky,
placing glints of admiration in faithful eyes.

Abandoned in cryptic missives on the wall,
these sketches demonstrate the rise and fall;
Of civilizations long past throughout the years,
while portraying their daily hopes and fears.

People weren't really much different then,
from today's authors using a pencil or pen;
With lives which depict work, stress, and play,
through what artists' souls seek to convey.

Finding lost messages that teach us to grow,
from helpless children to those who know;
That ancestral stories stand firm and tall,
from clever carvings left upon these walls.
 Apr 2020 Viola
Joanna Dowdell
"I should have told you more often how gorgeous you are,"
he says while his lips cut deeper into my open wounds,
broken fragments of our memories littered throughout.

"I never wanted to be gorgeous", I say,
feeling his cold hands move through me.
Gorgeous women carry burdens I want no part of.
No, I wanted to be everything else.
I wanted to be loved.

But then you always say it - "baby you're so gorgeous",
and now I'm supposed to thank you for these bones,
for these eyes from my mother,
for a body you wouldn't love when the weight it carried wasn't
"gorgeous."

I lay awake holding love handles and cradling cheeks,
remembering every time a man called me "gorgeous"
and meant usable.

called me "gorgeous"
and meant agreeable.

called me "gorgeous"
and meant better if she's silent.

called me "gorgeous"
and meant too forgiving.

called me "gorgeous"
and meant less than whole.

called me "gorgeous"
and meant less than I am.

"Let me show you the parts of your body I like the most," he says
with a sly smile, constructing a mental roadmap.  
"No, let me show you the pieces of your soul that lured me", I reply.
I want to be introduced to the raw, untamed corners of your mind.
I want to compare the beauty of our understandings.
I want to be asked how it's possible that the entire universe can fit
inside of a kiss, a ring, and an outstretched hand.
I want to know why faces so admired fade from memory so quickly.

I never wanted to be gorgeous.
 Apr 2020 Viola
Nishant Rawat
I'm not afraid of commitment.
I'm afraid of is you having resentment.
I'm not afraid of us fighting.
I'm afraid of us never amending.
I'm not afraid of us changing.
I'm afraid of us not prevailing.
I'm not afraid of living rough.
All I'm afraid of is not being enough.
This is what I'm afraid of
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