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 Jan 2014 Alex
contrasenses
This is the place
Where one afternoon
I'll dance by the rosebushes
But be bleeding and bruised
Darling, my thoughts would break you
This heart is like a black hole
Pieces of you are everywhere
As the darkness unfolds
Here is a day you begged to never come
I'm melting then freezing
Melting then freezing
Its raw, its icy
But hot on your breath
This creation of god
Motions to the devil
So keep me where the light is
This storm that you call personality
Always changes
Calm to ill
My nerves are aching
Pulsating
Calm to ill
So promise me
If you decide to go before I wake
You'll leave the light on
If not at some point
I will succumb for my own sake
We can't downplay the dreary days
I've lost myself completely
But to keep going
I just need to remember my name
So could you whisper it sweetly?
As far as the unsaid goes
Were you scared
Or trying to spare me?
Be truthful now
I can't afford to sink into your gravity
This is a permanent winter
The entire home is asleep but me
They long ago committed
To the heaviness of rosy dreams
I fall victim to insomnia
As my pillow is untouched
They tell me I pose my ruins well
As the next morning
I still have a clutch
I'll never be a champion
So paint my hands gold
Like a weak little bird in a man's hands
I yearn to delicately unfold
I think that I'm finally catching my breath
But its not my air
Its yours
Tell me how to power through
Because my nails are deep in the flesh of desperation
And we mustn't forget
Its only skin
There's no leeway for hesitation.
 Jan 2014 Alex
Aarya
For Ellen:
 Jan 2014 Alex
Aarya
If I could,
I would pick up my ink pen
and drown an ocean into you
instead of drowning you in it.
Extract these rotting feelings
for the sake of your ignorance.
Carve scriptures into each delicacy of your brain
so you wouldn’t have to dwell in such misery every day.
Wire faith
to your blemished heart.  
Imbue purity
to your sullied soul.
If I could,
I would write you through all depths of insanity
without any harm
so that your
mind no longer persists the thought of death.
There was a time I thought you were dead.
Only you were painted red
in a black and white world.
Like you have been walking barefoot on a broken road
your whole life.
Your demons imitate life
And life imitates the demons.
You are the one being tied down by invisible, nonexistent chains.
So unaccepting of help that has come for you
Watch  
the sun touch the horizon
reach the meeting of sun and ground
and
Find further still,
The limits you would like to reach only run from you.
You have such a murderous tongue
for society  
people.
But one day I hope to see you write yourself into existence
Rather than to let yourself drown in it.
Why has you dying become something so habitual?
Darling, death is not a friend of yours
Nor are you a friend of his.
But I know of your frequent dates with death
Tell me
Does his neck feel like happiness
And do his lips relieve you of your suffocation
Now
are you lost?
or are you found?
Do you recognize the irony  
Of the most terrifying things happening in the most angelic places
Charm yourself upon that bridge
Whose lights light up the city in golden arrays
With a glazed look
you’d think.
In sadness seen go by
You are charmed by either war or hope.
These occurred robberies have taken much
But they left opportunity
Important people
And a moon in your window
A future that only you know the ending of  
And a slice of the midnight sky.
So it goes.
 Jan 2014 Alex
Nat Lipstadt
the world will never run out of water
as long as the actors, dancers, painters, writers,
can make fellow humans weep,
as long as there are teaspoons
to catch their tears that face seep,
the world will never run out of water,
but you better learn to like the flavor,
*salty sweet
Jan. 12, 2014
 Jan 2014 Alex
Nat Lipstadt
rock and movie stars?
TV shows
telling me how to live.

gonna have my people call your people
to set up a meet,
so I can tell you direct
shut the **** up,
please.
 Jan 2014 Alex
Cassandra R
him:*      if i were there, i'd be a tourist, you know.
me:       and i'd kiss you longer than i've kissed any tourist.
him:      if you kissed me, i'd be the last tourist you kissed.
 Jan 2014 Alex
Timothy Roesch
She occupies no tower room, atop a winding stair.
No Prince climbs up to her cell, using her golden hair.
She waits for no magic kiss, asleep under glass.
No, she paces a corner, cold, with ‘Princess’ across her ***.

No goblin eyes or trollish claws yearn for her proud neck.
No Hero longs for her embrace from upon a heaving deck.
No story ever written or myth that will come to pass
is bolder than the single word; ‘Princess’, across her ***.


No coach and four is coming, nor does a stallion gallantly stride
bearing a regal husband to a blushing, ****** bride.
A simple bus of yellow, as bold as the brightest brass,
comes to pick up the reluctant girl with ‘Princess’ across her ***.


So come you expectant ******, yearning to see her again;
Paper clean and ready, ink filling the pen.
You find the story continues, the ending now up to you
as you find, to your surprise(?); the Princess is ‘Juicy’ too.
 Jan 2014 Alex
Daniel Samuelson
It seems that time must fly
For once I scoffed and said
"Never in a thousand years..."
But here I am.
I told you once, "forever"
I promised you, "forever"
And yet, forever somehow came to pass.

I thought I'd never leave my home
I thought I'd never be alone
But now I've crossed these empty lands
And I wonder why I left
And why things had to change.

Now, I sincerely miss you like hell
And I have nothing,
Not even a hope of hearing you smile.

Starting now, I vow
To never make another promise
Or think about the future
For the things I held so close
Were the first to shatter on the floor.
 Jan 2014 Alex
A B Perales
We drove fast,
the way only
the young
can do.
Recklessly and
carefree while
wildly tripping
across that
broken
highway.

I heard the
echo of our
hollow laughter,
felt the
vibration all
through my open
mind.

My mouth remained
dry no matter
how much
Orange juice I
drank.

Along the edge
of the world
the untamed
field of
sage bush and
honey suckle
swayed
like dancing
girls in unison
to the warm
California wind.

We sat and
watched in silence
as the Palm fronds
danced in ballgowns
through the
grand wood
pane windows of
a mansion
across the canyon.

I seen
hand trails that
never ended,
12 packs boxes
that hopped
away like
jack rabbits.

A Coyote on
Paseo whose only
want was to
live.

White owls
crashing through
ancient Oaks
just to let us
know we weren't
all there was.

I've captured  
the image in
memory of
a dozen
smiling faces
of my still free
minded friends
of my youth.

All seeing
things the
way they were
meant to be
seen.

All seeing
things the
way we'd
never
see them
again.
For  
       Ian P. Smith
         1973-1994
Rest Easy Old Friend
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