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Late, late one night, I heard a faint scream it woke me from a horrible dream.
I raised my head from my soft pillow I hear a faint sobbing across the meadow.
I went to the window to see what was wrong when I spied something lumbering along.
I thought to myself, poor woman is stuck in those toothy like Jaws.
  As I heard that desperate faint scream as they entered the woods on the way down to the stream.
As I put on my boots and ran out the door, I grabbed my shotgun, it was against my door.
I heard a scream within the woods so distant and faint it was frightening to know that it was so bold to run in full force into that unknown.
As I reached the woods, I stopped to think, what shall I do when I meet up with the thing?
No thoughts came to mind so I ran in time to see a woman screaming through the pines.
Help, help me please the woman did scream.
So, I followed that ant to its mound just a little away from the town.
It climbed to the top and without a second thought it slid right down into that deep drop.
So, I climbed that steep anthill just to the top and I peeked without a thought.
I could hear her screams within that deep dark hole being ripped apart from her head to her toes. The screams were so loud that they echoed right out of the hole.
So, I picked up my gun, and I ran down the mound straight back to my lovely little old town.
Michael Robert Triska 2017
The saviors of bakewell was my inspiration
 Apr 2017 Tony Luna
0o
My friend Sarah sits alone at night and scribbles on a page,
Turning each line into a battle, a war that she must wage,
She writes about getting out, fear and doubt, her failure to fit in,
Seeking metaphors for moonlight as she bleeds out through her pen,
But she keeps her poems in an old shoebox so no one ever knows,
Because she gets more like on Instagram by taking off her clothes,
Don’t call it a plea for popularity; she’s establishing a brand,
That’s all that matters when the world fits in the palm of your hand,
As she spends every day surrounded by the people she’ll never please,
She can’t help but look around her and despise the world she sees,
Her parents can’t afford the artificial life for which they strive,
But orange is the new black, and forty is the new twenty-five,
She watches them sacrifice a future that was never theirs to lose,
And walk around all day technically blind, staring at their shoes,
Meanwhile her friends all speak in memes, aspiring only to be seen,
A million tiny little lives lived inside a million tiny little screens,
As corporations burn down everything they cannot steal or sell,
And politicians fabricate the facts to justify the lies they tell,
The television markets manufactured rage, advertising decay,
Meanwhile Sarah fills another page, and tucks it safely away.
 Apr 2017 Tony Luna
Colm
God
Please hold her
As only you can

Would you curl her up
In the palm of your hand?
And be with her
When I cannot?

Would you attend to her most every need
With efficiency
And make her well when she is not?

Because you know how she is
How she has these beautiful wandering dreams
And occasionally such restless thoughts

Would you speak to her now
With an voice unseen?
And reassure her that you are indeed the king
The creator of time and everything

Would you curl her up
And keep her more closely
Than ever she would've been to me?

Will you do this for me, my dear Lord?
Have you heard my prayerful repetitious plea?

If so I will stop until tomorrow
And finally try and get some sleep

Would you comfort her with immortal arms?
From a prayerful, tired version of me
I'm a tired but honest young man

https://soundcloud.com/user-433755196/immortal-arms
You are my drug.
A storm of desire
destroys my body
until your hand
leans on me,
until your body
gives me relief,
until your voice
whispers your love.
Aphrodisiac, exciting,
inebriant, relaxing,
hallucinogenic, stunning.
You are my drug.
Passion powder
inhaled into my heart.
Slowly
ineluctably
poison me with you.

13.10.'15
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