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 Apr 2014 agreenthrow
Theia Gwen
I told you over the phone
That you were as beautiful
As the stars that dotted the sky
But you lived in a big, bright city
And could only see a few dozen
While I could see thousands
You couldn't know the half of it
So I told you over the phone
That you were as beautiful
As the stars in your new lover's eyes
And you finally understood
"Normally, about 2,500 individual stars are visible to the human eye without using any special equipment. But because of light pollution, you actually see just 200 to 300 from today’s suburbs, and fewer than a dozen from a typical city." How sad is that?
Let me
move you
like this
pen.

I can't
promise I'll
stay in
the lines.
 Apr 2014 agreenthrow
Samridhi
5:45 am.
promise me, you won't do anything stupid.
okay mom, i get it.
no smoking,
no drinking.
i have to get going. NOW.

8:00 am.
look what we got for us!, she says.
as we climb onto the bus
J.D and a pack of cigs.
nothing to hesitate about,
we're no longer kids!

11:00 am.
puff
i taste the filter- with care.
puff
heavy lumps on my throat as i fight to find some air.
puff
my tiny lungs bloat, still fighting for air.
puff
i resist.
imagining how much mom would be ******.

4:00 pm.
i'm almost on my fourth.
puff.
i let go.
puff.
let it get to me, slowly.
puff.
let it do its magic.
puff.
and let it **** me inside, slowly.

my first ever smoke.
been there. done that. not doing it again, hopefully.
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
 Apr 2014 agreenthrow
J M Surgent
Sometimes my best poems
Are better left unsaid,
Forgotten in my memory
For the rest of you
To read in me.
The only thing that could be better than good Satire
would be a World in which it is not pertinent.
In a world
where One being explicit is bad,
perhaps One
should, rather, be implicit
so people can impart their own meaning
and offend themselves,
'cause they seem to ******* keen
to get offended either way.
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