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 Apr 2014 Arj
 Apr 2014 Arj
there is a certain comfort in the shape of his soft lips,
in the way his bones crack while we lay together,
in the way his eyes radiate

there's this poison that has settled into my baby bones,
splattering fat bruises on my pale skin

there is a certain comfort in the ringing in my skull,
like the long lost school bell of my younger days,
the days of Easter eggs and milky ways

there's this beautiful boy in my arms,
one who smells like rain and laughs like lightning
 Apr 2014 Arj
Charles Bukowski
there are worse things than
being alone
but it often takes decades
to realize this
and most often
when you do
it's too late
and there's nothing worse
too late.
 Apr 2014 Arj
Sylvia Plath
Not easy to state the change you made.
If I'm alive now, then I was dead,
Though, like a stone, unbothered by it,
Staying put according to habit.
You didn't just tow me an inch, no--
Nor leave me to set my small bald eye
Skyward again, without hope, of course,
Of apprehending blueness, or stars.

That wasn't it. I slept, say: a snake
Masked among black rocks as a black rock
In the white hiatus of winter--
Like my neighbors, taking no pleasure
In the million perfectly-chisled
Cheeks alighting each moment to melt
My cheeks of basalt. They turned to tears,
Angels weeping over dull natures,
But didn't convince me. Those tears froze.
Each dead head had a visor of ice.

And I slept on like a bent finger.
The first thing I was was sheer air
And the locked drops rising in dew
Limpid as spirits. Many stones lay
Dense and expressionless round about.
I didn't know what to make of it.
I shone, mice-scaled, and unfolded
To pour myself out like a fluid
Among bird feet and the stems of plants.
I wasn't fooled. I knew you at once.

Tree and stone glittered, without shadows.
My finger-length grew lucent as glass.
I started to bud like a March twig:
An arm and a leg, and arm, a leg.
From stone to cloud, so I ascended.
Now I resemble a sort of god
Floating through the air in my soul-shift
Pure as a pane of ice. It's a gift.
 Apr 2014 Arj
Stephanie Lynn
I look into your beautiful eyes every day of my life and you look just as hard into mine
And we feel the gravitational pull of our hormones and the screaming of our hearts and it drives us absolutely mad

because we know it will never be our time
Time is not on your side when you cannot have what you desire forever.
(C) Maxwell 2014
 Apr 2014 Arj
Charles Bukowski
the vultures at the zoo
(all three of the)
sit very quietly in their
caged tree
and below
on the ground
are chunks of rotten meat.
the vultures are over-full.
our taxes have fed them

we move on to the next
a man is in there
sitting on the ground
his own ****.
i recognize him as
our former mailman.
his favorite expression
had been:
"have a beautiful day."

that day i did.
 Apr 2014 Arj
Taru M
the pride of the pack was born an outcast
but there comes a time
when the alter becomes the ego
imagine the masks as spotlights
they alight a path but are more show than moral
the stage has been set for a play
a 10 character monologue
schizophrenia is the curtain
able to unveil applause

This Is Life

with an 80 year run time
shorter if you break a leg
                                                             you will wish for luck to strike you
you will wish to strike the set                                                          
   ­  you will wish to set the stage on fire
but passion strikes less than ad libs
you will learn to improvise
to take cues and act accordingly
the best leaders always do
cadence and countenance                                                
     ­                          cadence and countenance
cadence and countenance  
these are the two C's to making the cast
but try as you might
you cannot change what you were born into
you are an outcast
the best leaders always are
and that is why you deserve the spotlight
take your mark
~ front and center ~
remove your masks
and take a bow
 Apr 2014 Arj
Jay Wasnothing
this morning
as i groggily rolled onto my back
and felt the weight of the blanket draped across my body
i briefly thought you were lying atop me
my face buried in your shoulder
my lips gently pressing against your neck
and then quickly gravitating downwards
repeatedly kissing the spot where your neck and shoulder meet
so as to make you shiver against me
and smile brighter than the morning sun
snuggling against me more
so that i could wrap my arms and lift my legs around you
both of us sleepy but bathed in the morning light

and so i laid there
for two minutes past my alarm
lost in the everlasting euphoria that just the thought of you can bring
wishing that maybe
just maybe
i was only dreaming that you weren't there
 Apr 2014 Arj
Rebecca Gismondi
 Apr 2014 Arj
Rebecca Gismondi
this room
a room with a view
towering coasters littered with fireworks
a suburban landscape that grew
eighteen years
for a while I thought there was no view beyond these walls
these four barriers that hold
all of me
where I g r e w
eighteen years
from a stumbling child
with pink bows and sturdy white iron
so small in a space so large
I couldn’t fill it
I couldn’t find myself within it yet
this sea of pink frills
I curled up with a book every night from what I remember
and I wrote in my first every diary on this bed
and I listened to that prized stereo over and over and over
and as I blossomed this pink palace faded
so that pink was torn down
and replaced with blue
and green
and purple
and for a while it remained bare
I remained bare
but as I g r e w I was marked
a rejection here
a death there
I was no longer solid; plain
like these walls, images appeared stuck
who I should be
where I should go
what I should wear
and soon all I saw were these walls
and myself within them
they spoke to me
sometimes in pain
other times in anger; frustration
this cave and sanctuary was my only retreat
writing on the same desk from my childhood about love lost and dreams unfulfilled
I sat in a closet covered in fabric and lost myself in stories
I dance alone facing a mirror, scrutinizing every angle

who was I?

within these walls I found a path
an acceptance
a moment well received and earned
I finally cried tears of joy
new steps, new space
new paint, remove old
images stripped away
from these barriers
red, white, brown
these “barriers” slowly became
they held me
during times of struggle and self-doubt and stress and fear
and I still looked in that mirror and scrutinized
and I still yearned for more of a view
and I still lay broken and heaving in this bed
but I also
g r e w
I left and came back changed one irreplaceable July summer
I spoke freely and bravely through the mouth of my pen
and I
smiled brightly at his face on that screen
I g r e w
eighteen years
these arms, once barriers, once only walls
hold everything
all of me
and to leave is bittersweet
for I want to stay
and curl up in this bed
and see my past selves
sitting there with me
to remind me of where I’ve come
I want to sit at that desk and hear
the incessant drumming underneath my floors
I want to hear my mother call me down for dinner
and my father’s hearty laugh
but although these arms hold me
I know they are letting me go
eighteen years
letting me go
to keep on
g r o w i n g
to return changed
but to still see
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