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I want to give you
A piece of me.
What would you like?
I want you to choose.

My eyes...?
No, too deficient, insufficient
And unseeing
With a tendency, recently, to flood.

My fingers...?
Tremblers now, them.
And the nails are bitten ragged, ******.
I push my rings to my knuckles,
And bend, and flex the joints,
Deliberately creating callouses, enjoying the pain.
You don't want these masochistic digits.

My arrhythmic, angry heart?
I think not,
You've rejected that, already,
And I'm not prepared to offer it again,
Get away, that won't be yours,
Cast your greedy glance elsewhere...

And so, we're back to what you wanted all along.
Go ahead, take it,
The part you wanted, longer for, risked
your world, and mine, for.
I hope it's worth it,
But I think
It would have been a better prize
Along with all the rest.
You are using black magic
And a voodoo doll
To pull me under your control.
I’m feeling every pin
Piercing clammy skin.
Magic creates heat
And baby, I’m hot right now…
What else are you doing to that doll?
Put her away.
The actual me
Would like to see
How it would feel
If it were real.
Life was once a flare. The choices we made had a reason &
everything else fell into different places. Like love and its
twisted demise. The rope we followed when night came without
a warning. Without even a star, or a sunset.

Believing became an untrustworthy mission. Through your eyes,
you see that you've been down this certain road before. A tunnel
leading west, into the greedy fields of old dirt & gravel. Through
the beauty, that has now become a plague, a shiver & a cough.

The next step is the future. An undeniable identity, given to us,
centuries ago. When the birds, had a life in the winds. When the
pain didn't come from verbal assumptions. When the choices we
made, good or bad, gave life some flare.
Life comes and goes, they say.
A boy,
      whistling everyone to buy a newspaper...
       ... just enough for dinner, on the campfire.
..... becomes a man, with a house, a wife...& cold feelings.

The animals have heard god,
             ..... its why they do not speak.
Just eerie sounds, like musical voices. Mystic drums.

Who I was, had a heart for the new world.
A vision that one day, I'll live nature's dream.
Wash in the spiritless waterfall, on the warmest days.
Catch the sunlight with my hat, become heaven's puppet.

Who I am, has found an edge,
      ....& beneath,
         ..... was a civilization of nights and days alone
     strung together on a thread.
Eyes out of focus, ears echoing with a hint of reverb,

Pupils alternating on perfect loop, a period to a black hole,

Hair becomes like static, a sound that goes unnoticed ,

Fingers numb, fingertips like nubs, bitten to the core like a rotting apple,

Nerves in the kneecap relay a rhythm to freezer burnt toes,

Bouncing a heel - a nervous and impatient tick -

The words in front are smudged by internal noise, binding brain activity,

Reality renders room for a romantic razor to ready the troops,

Slicing and dicing the fruit - on the cutting board - falling seeds like a hailstorm in July,

To be stuck forever, a coma with a comma to separate answers to commence,

Answers bladed sharp and split open by the distracted mind,

An attention disorder that lives in the people,

The people take drugs, die faster, and hide away from the natural,

The unexplored realm where one can truly find a companion,

Holding hands with Caulfield, innocence is immobilized for eternity,

The shuttle returns - all words loitering become visible, feasible, and manageable once again.
Take me away to the smell of morning, a fresh brewed stretch as stitches in the shoulders slightly begin to tear,
Take me away to the taste of late night TV, where censorship stares darkly at the ***** daylight,

With this glass of Piraat, I cheers to the bubble- You've kept me trapped and captive-
-no ransom-

Take me away to my youthful fortress- king of the world- bunk beds budding dreams-
Cast me away to wrinkled newspapers, a tinted fade from pre-decade wood-
-I reminisce-

With this wincing wink, I say hello to my old pal,
Look how big you've grown, you are transparent in thought.
A quick juke in the right pathway sends me off to the races, no body in front of me but dusty footsteps,
This sequence seems separate from repetition but i'll find the looking glass,
-a letter to myself with simple calligraphy-
I'm lost- I'm discovered- I'm tied- I'm bound-

Oh fragile bubble,
Forever caged off the ground, I swing...
Soft ******* stiffen,
Slick with sweat.

Involuntary moans
Released from an unwilling throat
Pierce the night
With need.

Where are you?
Where are you now?
I dare you to resist me
I dare you to deny me
What I need.

I am savouring
The mouthfeel of our joining
In my dreams.
Come, come,
This is the way to the feast.
I added this poem late last night then deleted it because I felt a bit self conscious about it - but I re-read it and decided to get over myself and post it again!!  :-D
 Oct 2013 A Mareship
Anderson M
My acute dementia
Seems to precipitate the need for immediate euthanasia
A hurried departure
Through the aperture
Deep set in the hollowness of time
Because essentially life’s been a lackluster mime
Imbibing flawlessly flawed ideas
That inform my capricious
Nature to various stimuli
It’s a life story based on a true lie
Frivolities interspersed with grave concerns
The myriad adjourns
Futile attempts at mitigating
A self-imposed galling.
 Oct 2013 A Mareship
David Nelson
Incantations of a Madman

do I cast a spell with words of magic
is this just a mantra of proportional tragic
be it of Old English or maybe Germanic
sending ones self into a manic panic

are you one who is a giver or taker
trying to steal her smile you can't mistake her
be ye poet or simple candle maker
behind a mask truly a faker

Mesopotamian pow-wows and Gaelic chants
spiritual wisdom disguised as rants
from deep pockets of knee high pants
Cinderella slippers at a ballroom dance

wave your hand create a Carmen or prayer
conjure up visions of hell if you dare
whispered Yajna like you really care
the fire of Vishnu behind the glare

oh ye of troubled heart and mind
seek out the treasures left behind
feel the breath of tides that bind
bow your heads see what you find

Gomer LePoet....
a simple prayer from knee touched down
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