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 Mar 2017 Sisilia
Pagan Paul
.
How I wish I could lay my head
down gently on your thighs,
to make you moan and sigh aloud
and slowly close your eyes.

How I wish I could use my tongue
and give you more than rhyme,
to bring a flush up to your cheek,
of feelings beyond space and time.

How I wish that I could speak
in words of feathered certainty
and so entice your curious mind
to lay down with me for eternity.
.
.
© Pagan Paul (2017)
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For the Muse I have yet to meet.
For the Lady I have yet to undress.
For the Lover I have yet to eat.
For the Goddess I have yet to impress.
I continue searching for you.
PPx
.
 Mar 2017 Sisilia
Civet Wright
I want our loneliness be tie up
I want to blind your meaningless with my love

I want to spread my sense on your skin
I want to inhale your breath with feelings

I want to rope you on my possessed words
I want to **** your melody with soap box bold

I want to tape you moaning
I want to film you trembling

I want to put spell all over your body
I want to fable up your bloodiest
Birthday Demo For Mr. Echo
https://youtu.be/mimybufkulU
 Mar 2017 Sisilia
Jonathan Witte
Nine years and still
we cradle our grief
carefully close,
like groceries
in paper bags.

Eventually the milk
will make its way
into the refrigerator;
the canned goods
will find their home
on pantry shelves.

Most things find
their proper place.

Eventually the hummingbirds
will ricochet against scorched air,
their delicate beaks stabbing
like needles into the feeder filled
with red nectar on the back porch.

Eventually our child
will make her way
back to us. Perhaps.

But I’ve heard
that shooting
****** feels
like being
buried under
an avalanche
of cotton *****.

For now it’s another
week, another month,
another trip to Safeway.

We drive home and wonder
why it is always snowing.
Behind a curtain of snow,
brake lights pulse, turning
the color of cotton candy,
dissolving into ghosts.

And with each turn,
the groceries shift
in the seat behind us.
From the spot where
our daughter used to sit,
there is a rustling sound—

a murmur of words
crossed off yet another list,
a language we’ve budgeted
for but cannot afford to hear.
 Mar 2017 Sisilia
Derek David
You can always tell winter from fall
In how soon
We correct the clocks.

The dashboard is wrong
For weeks
We decided we are comfortable
And so
And yet
We don't look.

Our ovens are forgotten
Maybe it's helpful, to do the dishes
And be a false hour further
From winter's silent failures

You lost
So much more than an hour.
 Mar 2017 Sisilia
Olive Dyer
Yeah, I'm fine
I will always tell you
Never believe me
It's the only lie that's true

I'm surrounded by light
I try to keep it on
But up in here
It's already off, it's gone

I never knew
It'd be this hard
Every time I'm alone
The wound is etched and scarred

I wish I could tell you
I don't think you know
The rip, it tears
Every time you go

I reach out
I'll go above and beyond
But it only pierces deeper
When you don't respond

But don't worry
No burden to you
This isn't your problem
I just wish you knew

For now, I keep my hands out
I'm capable of keeping control
Arms stretched fingers spread palms up
Waiting to be grabbed, by just one soul

But the longer I wait
The older time grows
I. Keep. Sinking. Down.
Where insanity shows
I’ve long been pondering suicide,
My life is such a mess,
I thought to try on the other side,
It couldn’t be worse than this,
I’d always been such a coward though
My pain threshold is low,
I wondered how I could **** myself
With just one simple blow.

I didn’t fancy to cut my throat
There’s such a lot of blood,
And somebody has to clean it up
They’d curse me, as they should,
A gunshot straight to the head would put
My brains all over the wall,
And everything would be grey and red
With a blood-spray in the hall.

So I considered a poison pill
And a quart of Mister Beam,
That might just happen to fit the bill
For a death, both quick and clean,
But where would I get a poison pill
To accelerate my death?
I’d hate to die when I’m feeling ill,
Fighting for every breath.

I’d pondered on it so very long
That it quite obsessed my mind,
And I began to see shapes and figures
From some other time,
The ghosts of others who’d gone ahead
And done the evil deed,
Were poisoned, shot, or their throats were cut
When their own lives were in need.

They seemed to come when the clock struck twelve
Just on the midnight hour,
That’s when the demons that rot in hell
Can demonstrate their power,
They kept on coming to egg me on
To get on that fatal bus,
‘You need to do it, it isn’t wrong,
You can join with all of us!’

They almost had me convinced that I
Could drown myself in the sea,
Or pick my favourite river then,
One that appealed to me,
They said to drown was a pleasant death
I’d drift away in a dream,
And none would know that I’d killed myself,
It’s an ‘accidental’ theme.

The next night there came a stranger to
This ghostly neighbourhood,
Trailing festoons of river ****
And covered in clods of mud,
His face was twisted in anguish and
Such pain, that now I see,
Why I have suddenly changed my mind,
That freak-out ghost, was me!

David Lewis Paget
 Mar 2017 Sisilia
Samantha
Words of wax plastered to the center of my chest
Ripping it off like a bandaid
won't relieve the pain sticking to my skin, no.
No Alleviation for the unkind words
Seeping doubt further into my fragile spirit
Your need to feel superior
Are Fists crushing pedals
To draw out the Fine essence of who is made from them
Stealing sweet floral scent that never belonged to the consumer.
You're a moth in the Butterfly Garden,
Trying to reflect light with grey scale wings.
Deceptive practices, to make believe
That I bend at your will,
And will leave your mark as a branding to flaunt.
I will not Break.
 Mar 2017 Sisilia
Civet Wright
Iron man with his chessmen
Reinvent heretics for God's sake
Rational excuse aforesaid

Iron man with his chessmen
Wild flowers dancing to salute them
Drinking the blood after the game

Let me cherish thee this time
Never bartered you with victorious rime
Let me consecrate individuals with my light
You are your own conducting mind
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