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It was late in the day
The sun was busy hiding
Behind the towering city
He hid in the shadows

He stopped right next to me
We each nodded to the other
As if we had been nodding
To each other for years

We smoked our cigarettes
Watching the people walk by
We nodded as they past
That’s when I realized
I might be invisible too
 Jan 2012 Anusha Dommeti
Zoe
death sauntered up to
the bar, a few drinks deep.

what's a pretty little
thing like you
doing in an ugly little
place like this?

i laughed
like it was funny.

i make poor decisions
i said.

why not make
better ones
he asked.

i'm having too much
fun
i lied.

his lips stretched across
his teeth
in a semblance of
a smile. he thought i meant
i'd be a good night's
****.

let's get out of here
he said.

i drained the last of
my empty glass,
slipped my hand into
my empty pocket,
fruitlessly shook
my empty pack of smokes.

they were all full
an hour ago. or
maybe a year ago. you
lose track of time in
an ugly little
place like this.

that's not what i meant
i thought.

okay
i said.

we grabbed our coats and
walked out into
the cold.
Everything is just an act-thing.
A game piece, a character.
Essence of the game,
the play, the poem, the joke
is the ego.

Our genetics together
create consciousness,
The ego.

Every code, every instruction,
every message from the genes
is not in selfishness,
but in selflessness,
in laughter.

Witty humors they possess,
They know you need
an uncertain situation,
to be called attention to,
to be reminded that
it's all just a joke in the end,
and not one has a bad sense of humor.

There is the dark, poor-me, my-life-is-miserable jokes
to the bright
oprah's-monkeys-****-****,
one-day-i-was-tripping jokes

because the Spiral Source Polarity Is.

The yin and yang do not swim after one another,
there is neither tail nor head.
They flow as river-wind.

Fire and water, energy and matter,
Ego and truth are genes'
Set ups
punch lines
laughter.

Set that to infinity
at 98.6 degrees

now, the questions rise

how do I act after realizing all of this?
How can I keep playing this role?

The point is to understand
the answer is to die
as the world knows death.

Your eyes will blink
Your heart will sync with another's beat
Your tongue wil taste
You will die
as the ego knows it.

You will think
You will feel
You will realize
You will die
as You know it.

Why would I waste my time
in a place like this
with people like this

and not

in the warm, bristley buzzing glowing meadow grass
in a tree playing whistling lips to the soaring peer
bubbling out air in the ocean's riptide
treading soft chilled down on montana mountains

being able to meet soaring peer
in source element
and inevitable intimate relations
with earth or sea.
6 25 10
 Jan 2012 Anusha Dommeti
JR Weiss
“i don’t know where i’m going…but i’m not coming back here.”
you blurted out,
loud enough so we all could hear,
unafraid and unapologetic.

i was upset at first, but then
i was suddenly glad.
you were always bigger then this place.
i had to be happy for you.
you saw that big something
out there,
and you were the first to notice the freighting rate at which this town was drying up.

so,  
go then,
there are other worlds then these.
these dried up ghost towns hold nothing but rotting piles of memories,
discarded beer cans and
the few of us
left behind.

i drown that part of me that wants to clamp down
and hold you tight before you notice the cage door shutting.
i know you are not a pet to be kept,
but the sight of your bright colors is enough to make me miss your song
and drunkenly beg you to stay.

fly away little birdie.
you were always bigger then this town,
bigger then this skeleton crew of
drunk could have been somebodies
who always remember way back whens, when things were better.
when we didn’t have to choose sides and
decide if we were staying or going.
fly away and leave us with the memory of what you were to us.
you can be the star of the stories
told over and over,
laughing,
choking,
dripping red,
wiping our eyes and telling of the times
we were lucky enough to be there.
you were always bigger than us,
and we all knew this day would come.
 Jan 2012 Anusha Dommeti
JR Weiss
he said
"that's what i want...a good hard rain"
and the next day it rained.

watching the heavy drops bombard
the small broken house i hide in. i wait
waiting for a leak to spring.
waiting for buckets filling up with rain water
making that uneven
plinking,
                                         plopping,
                plonking,
dripping,
                            dropping,
music that drives me mad and puts the dogs to sleep.
waiting for the rivers to creep in under the doors
and dampen furniture so it wont dry till june.
waiting for the cold wind that blows right through the windows
and the power to fail
like it does,
every time it rains.

he wanted a good hard rain
and it's here.

he will walk in,
all smiles and dripping drops and muddy foot prints
"isn't it wonderful? isn't it perfect?!"
and i
wrapped in yards of blankets and layers of ripped clothing
will agree and try to ignore his laughter
at my misery.
 Jan 2012 Anusha Dommeti
JR Weiss
look at me.
acting like a twelve year old with a crush.
all beating heart and starry eyed day dreams
about you
and me
becoming us.

this hasn't happened in years
and already i feel worrisome hands
patting down the wrinkles and torn edges
trying
hoping
to be good enough.

i'm that scared excited that i was when i was little
under covers with flashlights
confessing and confiding in
a favorite bear.
trying on my big sisters makeup
giggling about what it is like to kiss
and who i was in love with.


it all boils underneath that thin skin
of cool that i'm positive you can see
through.

look at me,
acting like the girl
i worked so hard to
grow up and away from.

jesus,
look what you have done,
look at all those walls you have destroyed,
in a matter of days.
I should be transcribing the story of my life.

Making you laugh at my silliness.
Having you consider
the reality of it all by relating to just you.

Telling that tired anecdote
that's too witty to give up,
but now is a sad catch phrase.

Having a bonding moment
with you over something I probably faked.
I need you to feel not just know
about my trials or tribulations.

I want to have an endearing trait.
I want to know that my noctivagant ways
won't turn you against me.

I'm a traitor, a fool
a sly emotional chameleon.
I am driven by fear,
gears spinning all of me pushing.

Pushing into a deep dark mental ravine.

I am everything you deem wrong
wrong for your world and perception.
No thinking just scheming
what feeling, just planning.

but here it is with masks off
with sound at full bore
images vividly provided
all you can do is consider

why am I
baring this for you...
 Jan 2012 Anusha Dommeti
JR Weiss
how vain i have become.
all day i worry,
i wonder who is reading now?
i wonder what they have said about me?

i used to scribble down poems
in a tiny leather bound book.
i alone knew of the moments they painted.

and now
and now and now

the whole world can stumble upon
my name
my words
my secret thoughts and feelings

how vain i have become,
waiting with baited breath
for someone to tell me if they approve
or not.

i miss my little leather bound book.
a few seconds left
a few minutes
a few hours
a few days

i'm spinning in circles,
twirling the sky,
and the dizziness decreases.

every second hand's tick echoes infinitely
echo echo
a glance, a hand-wring
I pick my nails.

Time
the departure and arrival of the present
Evolution of the future into the past.
          The grass is growing
          The surroundings groan
while i try to open my eyes
    tense with
    anticipation
    excitation

gas tank almost empty
big capital e's have never looked so attractive

Now, the doors will be unlocked,
And ripped off
And crunched, crushed,
And incinerated, obliterated.
Oh,
what a refreshing breeze
smells like sunflowers,
pomegranates,
and honey.

Let's neglect new barriers.

  I can see
the pores of time.
I'm the future
a crane, an eagle
an equal

The doorknob's key is in my hand,
An axe in the other.

All those years
of inescapable limitation to
the view from a windowsill,
they will soon be the senile, wrinkled remains
of tears, of fears, of jeers.

Soon, I will soar
Escape this world of sore
Existence at the core
Of the personalities who tore
At the pained cultivation of my soul,
Who decided it was best to close my doors,
I know, I swear, these shackles, held in the hands of unmuffled cackles,
Will disintegrate in nothing
but dust and flies to blind their eyes,
Keeping them, from once again,
Binding me into void oblivion,
I am blinded by triumphant tears,
They'll evaporate eventually,
Leaving behind puffed and swollen emotional Glory.
5/05/09
 Jan 2012 Anusha Dommeti
Adam B
An ordinary soul encompassed in extraordinary expectations.
Social pressure manifesting itself into anxiety and doubt.
A mechanical mess of cogs and wheels churning out endless streams of mental clout.

Be what I will and do as I may is what I say.
But they say:
Be what we will and do as I do, this is the proper way.
Try not reform or perform to conform is what I say.
But they say:
Follow me through this hollow tree and you will see what I want you to be, this is the proper way

An ordinary soul encompassed in extraordinary expectations,
passed down through electric, media driven sensations of transient satisfaction,
a mechanical mess of wound up plastic toy soldiers marching in circles with rubber souls pointing death dealing cylinders at each others backs.

Be yourself for everyone else is what I say.
But they say:
Be everyone, or else.
Try for progression's sake, be genuine and certainly not fake is what I say
But they say:
Try for regression's sake, be fake and certainly not genuine, this is the proper way.

An ordinary soul encompassed in extraordinary expectations,
disgusted with modern tribulation, choosing self-selected conscious liberation.
A singular, personal declaration toward evolution.
A natural mess of vines and roots reaching below and above producing boundless rivers of truth and love.
This is revolution.

Be one amongst many is what I say.
But they say
Be us. This is the proper way.

Be you, is what I say. This is the proper way.
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