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 Apr 2013 A O'Dea
Mike Hauser
In my ruby red shoes I click my heals
Take out my golden pen
Through transcendental meditation raise my heart rate up
Placing my head in a cosmic spin

Conjure up a darkened mood
Then brighten it up a bit
Oh, I almost forgot for luck
I go outside and spit

With a touch of genius (I don't mind saying)
I lay down my first AMAZING line
Pour over it stroke by brilliant stroke
Then erase it half a dozen times

As I analyze my finished gem
Dissecting it line by enticing line
This time I'm sure like every time before
Another masterpiece is mine

Then I noticed that one misplaced word
That changes everything I had to say
I think to myself...ahhh, "what the heck"
And I post it anyway
All in jest my friends...all in jest
 Apr 2013 A O'Dea
Daniel Magner
A voice is a terrible thing to forget
© Daniel Magner 2013
I met you
On a day I cannot
Recall
But I do
Know that
Each day after
Was brighter
When I was with you.
The adventurer returned home years later,
Carrying bags of seeds, stones, and rarities.

He found that his house had been painted
Green and white.
He didn't like it.

He found that his son had been born,
And named "Jean-Baptiste."
He didn't like it.

He found that his wife had figured him dead
And remarried.
He didn't like it.

He planted her the seeds,
Built her gardens with the stones,
Gifted her the rarities,
Then smiled and left her to her happiness,
But he didn't like it.
Keep yourself from the rest of the world
If that's what keeps you sane,
But I hope you'll always speak your mind to me.

I don't think you know you matter,
And I know sometimes it's hard to believe,
But I hope you know you've always mattered to me.

You're rough and full of unkempt thoughts
And those are often unappreciated,
But I hope I'll always get to hear them.

Your mind must be heavy--
So heavy,
And I hope you'll let me help carry it.
I don't know if you'll see this or if it'll help, but I hope you do and it does. Love you, friend.
The house we drove to on a dare
Was smoking from outside.
The walls forbade our entrance,
But within, an infant cried.

Searching for the howling babe,
We overturned his home--
At least, that's what it once had been
Before the flames had grown.

We found a pool of furniture,
The burnt upholstery maimed,
And then a table filled up
By a family aflame.

We found the infant's parents there,
His older siblings, too.
Quite calm, his sister looked to us:
"I'll burn the both of you."
Amy and I adventure into a long-burnt-down house on a dare-- and to rescue the crying baby inside.
I loved someone, once.

A person tall and thick with thought,
Whose reach was wider than a mile;
Whose words were low and filled to brims
And ordered my whims single file;

Whose eyes made blood flush under cheeks
And wandered nary from my own;
Whose air was just enough to bind;
Whose arms were heavy as a stone;

Whose breath on me could wear me down
And raise me up to live anew;
Whose presence haunted my mind's halls;
Whose love was too good to be true--

And it was.

Somewhere along the way,
I realized that that person didn't exist.

He never had.
A messy life together could be okay,
Could be happy.
We could wear our shoes on carpets,
Leave rings with our coffee.
The dishes could pile up,
We could neglect to fold our laundry.
I could forget to cap the toothpaste,
You'd leave your jacket on the floor.
I am okay, if you're okay,
With coffee rings and carpet stains,
So let's enjoy our stay.
Rules are broken, messes made.
My mother would say I already live this way.
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