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 Nov 2013 Andrew Durst
KM
Do you ever wake up
More exhausted than the night before?
As if your sweet dreams
Opened another worlds door?

No white rabbits here
This isn't Wonderland
You won't be young forever
For it isn't Neverland

Here the sandman drags his bag
Through the recesses of your mind
Covering up your childhood dreams
To forever be lost in time

Every crack every crevasse
No rest will be found
Nightmare or dream
Screams make no sound

So run, run, run as fast as you can
For in dreams you have no choice
When being chased down by the unknown
Like I said screams have no voice

Toss and turn and fight to awake
Your body will stay departed
In this dream or reality you're stuck
In a nightmare, vastly uncharted

Struggling to get through the underbrush
In the jungles of your dreams
Where your never sure what lays in the shadows
And nothing is as it seems

So again I ask, do you ever wake up
More exhausted than the night before?
As if your sweet dreams
Opened another worlds door?
Did this with Mike Hauser! Such a great poet.
11/11-13/2013
 Nov 2013 Andrew Durst
AD
The words of a poem,
should not be read, but felt.

They should enter the mind
not as nouns, verbs, and prepositions,
fitted with appropriate definitions,
that chain the mind to common thoughts
and common feelings,

But as the pounding of a lover's heart
in the silence of a summer night,
Or the sobbing of a child alone
without a light.
 Nov 2013 Andrew Durst
AJ Chilson
Alone,
isolated,
feeling suffocated,
wanting to die, yet still, wanting
to live.
 Nov 2013 Andrew Durst
Jay
Thinking about you and me
dusting off books from the 20th century.
Where are we now?
Where are we going?
I seem to remember a lot of people
but only when I really think about them:
every friend ,
every lover,
I've ever had.
And how awful of me
to not think about all of these people
that I have lost,
everyday.
Is it my fault
or am I just human?
 Nov 2013 Andrew Durst
rachel
Old, and weak
Laying in a casket full of cala lilies
Hearts beating slow
And tears spilling fast

"you're dead, my dear."

Words spoken in whispers
Collapsing out of the mouth
Thoughts of grief
Regret
Sadness
Anger
Denial

Standing at a podium
At the center of the holy place made for whorship
Say goodbye to loved ones
Write a eulogy and tell the world

"you were an amazing person"

"but you're dead now"
 Nov 2013 Andrew Durst
Christine
Never in the same place twice
Following the bold white line
Always hitching another ride
A touch as wicked as sin
And a smile that’s just as innocent
Decided to stay for the summer
Playing his guitar
On broadways coroner
A strum of strings
He had every girl’s heart
He’s gone now
Those summer nights didn’t last long
But his words still haunt me
“Do you ever
Just
Sit and wonder?
Sit and think about not
Thinking?
Pray that the numbness
Will take your heart captive
So that maybe
Just maybe
Not being enough won’t hurt
As much.
In a world this big
Were all so
Significantly small
I look around
At all these people
And think
Whose lives are really going to matter?
Who’s going to be remembered?
Then I think
Will I be?”
I didn’t look up at him
I kept my eyes low
I wanted to
Tell him
I wanted to
Kiss him
My secret love
Just a boy who’s
Charismatic
Clueless
Beautiful
Far from home
And close to my heart
But I know how much
Rejection can hurt
It’s like he knew I was
Just as broken as he was
Like I had as many broken pieces as him
Enough to fill the dry days with
Enough to share everything with
But not enough to fall in love with
 Nov 2013 Andrew Durst
LJ Chaplin
These orange feathers wither
Beneath the scorching heat of the sun,
I am weak, dying,
Life slipping from my body
Until I am an empty shell,
A desolate carcass,
And finally I drown beneath the ashes
Of my own weakness.
But inside my lifeless heart
The embers are still smouldering
Until they breathe smoke into my veins
And I come alive,
Rising from the ashes,
The feathers aflame with radiant
And glorious beauty,
My wings spread wide
Like a sublime inferno.
I am captivated by my beauty,
Perplexed by my ferocity
And perfection.
 Nov 2013 Andrew Durst
Tori Hart
Please do not wear your scars as labels
They are not your identity
They are not your name tag
They are not your talismans
You are so much more beautiful
Than a sad part of your story
And I’d much rather see
You embrace your Fighting Warrior
Than for you to cower
Before your personal hurricane.
Written: October 29, 2013
Revised: November 12, 2013
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