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 Oct 2014 a
Rockie
Time
 Oct 2014 a
Rockie
They say time will tell;
That it will heal bruises,
And scars,
And emotional pain,
But just time isn't enough,
Pictures, and kisses,
And talks, and music,
And memories
Memories help,
Not time,
Not hugs,
Nor kisses,
But maybe for some,
Those things help,
Memories work best for me.
 Oct 2014 a
Kate Bartel
the first
was a backseat freestyle
half-Catholic, half-alcoholic
rampaged my underage
with whiskey and wallet,
a secret
only until

the second
alexander the great
undefeated in battle
he knew my worth
but not its weight

the third
disguised as hymn
soaked our nest in sin
led me in a prayer every night
baptizing my body with his white

the fourth
****** me like corpse
gold cross beat collarbone
and hands like Caesar
overthrew me
into

the fifth
traced the contours
of my wrists
he was a righteous king
until
“this will feel good”
robbed me of
my womanhood

the sixth
looked at me
like I was the sky over Judah
vowed to be loyal
crowned me royal
then stormed my capital
at dusk

the seventh
rough and
in Hebrew tongue
“this is the first time
i’ve done this sober
in awhile”

the eighth
graced me
with misogynist faith
made me kneel
until my knees
were just bruises
on his floorboards

the ninth
warrior’d his way
into my walls
a Trojan prince
who could’ve cared
less about the outcome
of a broken one

these are
the nine good men
who i let hero-storm
my temple with their chivalry
inside-out my worth
into bible verse
crucified by ignorant white

i actually believed by some light or reason
that a man might cleanse me of my demons

i tried to love each of them
like i’d never known broken
tried to marry my wounds
into Magdalene

moaning a beggar’s cry:
treat me like new, brand new!
untouched, like virtue
us, we, come together are purity!

but they had all been in search of their sin
from the beginning
nine worthies
who made the rules
only so they could know where to
break them

all religious

all deemed / worthy
praised / King
self-proclaimed / God
This poem is inspired by The Nine Worthies, a group of history's "heroes" who were thought to encompass all characteristics of the perfectly chivalrous warrior. They were made up of three good Jews, three good Christians, and three good Pagans. The commentary I make in this poem on religion and its assumed state of purity is putting a spin on the values portrayed by these men to criticize the men I've had experiences with in my own life.
 Oct 2014 a
ryann
happenstance
 Oct 2014 a
ryann
exploratious exchange of the spirit and brain

happened on a windy, acid aftermath saturday.

like a breeze through a tree

we exchanged our deeper meanings

and you moved me~
 Oct 2014 a
Thomas Schulze
Universe
 Oct 2014 a
Thomas Schulze
Visions of light flashing across the sky
The brightness caught jupiters eye
It yells out here comes my sun
This war will end with the chosen one
A constant struggle to hold back rage
A burst of Flames to turn the page
With each day of the rising sun
We look out and seek that chosen one
But some they feel he'll never come
So many still will never run
 Oct 2014 a
Ena Alysopriono
Sometimes people are so quiet
They are almost invisible
It can take days
Before they realize they have been noticed

Sometimes people are so scared
Of being hurt again
It can take months
For them to say "hi" back

Sometimes people are so sure
No one will ever love them
It can take years
To unbury their hidden self

Sometimes it can take moments
Repost this if someone has taken a moment for you. Then Pay It Forward for someone else who needs it.
 Oct 2014 a
AllAtOnce
"Hey babe :)"
I said
And "Hey baby"
Said he
"Heyy"
I said
"Oh well"
Said me:
"Maybe he's busy"
"He always is"
Said the voice, taunting
"Maybe he's working"
"Isn't he always?"
Said they.
"He's too busy for me."
On the depressing, I feed
"But he loved you."
Their words flew
"Shut up, mind. He doesn't anymore."
"What a ******."
"I have Nick."
"And you're sick."
"No. I love him."
"And so do we, that's why he wins."
"You aren't even real."


*"But we're what you feel."
Just a weird thing...idk if i like it or not...feedback?
 Oct 2014 a
Antiquity Vaircome
Sat there, empty and quivering
In your lap, so lost
The girl's heart was pounding so loud
She thought you might hear
Her throat was dry and raspy
Her breaths were short and quick
And sat there, unaware
Your hand was now her full attention
Do it
But I'm scared
Do it
But what if...
Do it
I don't want to be hurt again
Do it

Fingers, intertwined
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