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 Apr 2014 Mad Jones
PK Wakefield
it's hard the word i'm sorry and
the clouds today
are a bit
cut of light
draping easily with so("

     i,m sorry,,

the way i've notbeen
and haven't said)

the way i love you the way i love you the way i love you. i love

and the roughness of cotton,
the blithe softly flow,
snow and petal broken;

a stream instantly chaste
between the thighs of mountains
(your coming mouth
and how many times have i remembered
the hard droll moment of your intense clovers
parting through a sea of dark leaves
the slenderest gap of life to emit
its thrilling nonsense a gown of roses?)?

i do not or have wondered
on the cutting into the hillsides roads
when driving in Summer
and the sprightly children of dandelions
tumble daftly serene

And want to **** my timid notion
amongst the thorn'd stems of your garden
(where burying is easy
and death never came from the ground
and only life was grass, and flowers, and kissing

forever

                )))(
 Apr 2014 Mad Jones
Liam
tread you on water?
or water in which you tread
judge not, lest ye ****
1284

Had we our senses
But perhaps ’tis well they’re not at Home
So intimate with Madness
He’s liable with them

Had we the eyes without our Head—
How well that we are Blind—
We could not look upon the Earth—
So utterly unmoved—
my naked lady framed
in twilight is an accident

whose niceness betters easily the intent
of genius—
                        painting wholly feels ashamed
before this music,and poetry cannot
go near because perfectly fearful.

meanwhile these speak her wonderful
But i(having in my arms caught

the picture)hurry it slowly

to my mouth,taste the accurate demure
ferocious
              rhythm of
                            precise
laziness.  Eat the price

of an imaginable gesture

exact warm unholy
When you think about wanting to give up,
Just remember so did your neighbor Fred
Fred's dead.
 Apr 2014 Mad Jones
faggotten
just
 Apr 2014 Mad Jones
faggotten
you looked at the woman's skin
it was clearly darker than yours
you felt annoyed for some reason
a person's color made you so upset
that you felt the weird need
to insult and yell at her
isn't it peculiar
how a certain color
can make you so angry
that you end up ruining
another human being's life
 Apr 2014 Mad Jones
raw with love
you're not your hair:
you can cut it dye it curl it straighten it shave it bend it twist it;

you're not your face:
you can hide it under layers of make-up you can put on lenses you can change your face in a matter of minutes;

you're not your skin:
you can cut it draw on it bite it tear it;

you're not your body:
you can lose weight gain weight;

you're not your clothes:
strip them off;

never reduce
yourself
to
a colour
a number
an adjective
a noun

never reduce
yourself
to a simple
word

you are
the thoughts you have at 3 a.m.
the lame jokes you tell your friends
the art you create
the books you read
the pages you have dog-eared
the quotes you have highlighted
the coffee you never finished drinking
the movie you watch after midnight, wrapped in a blanket
the chocolate cake you ate that night with that girl
the slice of pizza you could've eaten but you gave to your best friend
the kiss that still burns on your lips
the cigarettes that sting in your lungs long after you smoked them
the dreams you dream
the worlds you build in your mind
the song that's stuck in your head
the moments you're in the shower
the iloveyous
the ikindaguessilikeyous
the icareforyous
the seeyoulaters
the words you say
the smiles you smile
the laughs you laugh
the loves you love
the hates you hate

you are
an entire universe:
you're stars
and planets
and galaxies
and asteroids
and comets

you are a cosmos
trapped in
a shell.

you are
a gazillion worlds
locked in
a human cage.

never think
of yourself
as of
anything
less.
 Apr 2014 Mad Jones
Katy Owens
Longing
        
               for a world made right

Knowing
  
               the truth that restores

                            
                                      Yet.
                                              Still.

Living

           in brokenness and disrepair

Waiting

              for the world to be pure white.
 Apr 2014 Mad Jones
daniel f
a river fish filled
between snow capped
summits.  Brown bear
stares.

solitary salmon
travelled to respawn,
across an  open ocean
nearly there now.

and once the task
completed?
time to lie down
dead.

----------------------------------------------

a history of people passed.

face shapes long gone,
drawn by memory's gravity apparently once close
now so far away.

-----------------------------------------
the sunlight slumped
on square shoulders.
Ever the Adonis
testament to a love
unlike any other

-------———-----——-----——
a collection of things I've scribbled in work while watching people,
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