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 Mar 2013 alyosha kris
Kayla Jane
What was it,
that they saw in that last moment.
When they knew it was all over,
when they knew nothing could be done.
Did they see what was to come?
Did they see it all in a second?

What was it,
that they felt in that moment.
Was it fear for the unknown,
or regret for opportunities lost?
Did they feel pain?
Did they feel the anguish at it being all over?

What was it,
in that moment,
that makes me think about it every day,
when I barely even knew them.

What was it,
in that moment,
that makes me wonder,
what if.

What is it,
that they said in that last moment.
"I love you, I love them."
"I'm sorry, I'll miss you."
Did they say a prayer for themselves?
Did they cry out for help in the last second?

What is it,
that makes them so memorable,
from their last moments,
on this earth they shouldn't have left so early.
Are they still here somehow?
Or are they watching over, just as they said they would?
 Mar 2013 alyosha kris
Ren Martin
From mere particles they have risen, took shape
Lost fragments in the ocean breeze
Stretched proudly toward the sunlight
Inspired hearts and minds both new and fertile

A perfect show of mans desire to create
To play God, if only for a moment in time
Until inevitably mother nature grows tired of the day
The evening tide and sea foam Goddess cleaning our slate.
 Mar 2013 alyosha kris
Tru Baker
I envy the cup of coffee that gets to kiss your sleepy lips awake every cold and bitter morning.
I saw you flutter and die
At the crossroads
Your wing-pages flipping quickly
Then slowly, desperately as cars pass
As if your pathetic fluttering can lift
The only thing you can call a body,
A flat, limp *** of paper
Shuddering and shifting when a
Quickmoving elephant runs by

I saw you flutter and die
At the crossroads
The muscles of your sides
Heaving in, out, in out
Gasp for ink and blood
Shudder with need
As if that inhale, intake
Of gasoline soaked air will
Replenish the lack of life in you

I saw you flutter and die
At the crossroads
I saw you die
And flutter no more
I saw a fluttering and grounded magazine illuminated by headlights Tuesday night...
Old age arrives
We notice its signs
The insanitary odours
The squeeks the creaks
The inappropriate hairs
That grow from ears
The time it takes
To do simple things
The less to say
As the mind decays
Make your time with them
All it can be
For someday soon
It will be you and me

— The End —