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 Mar 2014 Ashita
JL
Salt
 Mar 2014 Ashita
JL
Which  hand is the penny in?
I think I'd like to be tricked again
Once more silver eye
I seldom sense it in your sigh
Oxygen conversion is your diversion

I hear the horns against the cliff
A moon familiar crescent slips
Silently from the sea
Are you..
Are you quite alone?

I feel the frost on my bones
Memories split the northern sky
The stars call me
A glow like fire I have known
Caught upon the web of words
I remain
Listening Night

Tangled in the hair of you
I sniff war smoke
You do not waver
I do not
Tightening the knot

Blood I wish to not know you
Pouring perfume round nostrils
Flared
Jaw so clenched
Pulse
I taste your presence in my throat

Blood drunk among the fray
Or curled warm among the furs
That night before the sea
I dream of it
 Mar 2014 Ashita
Emma Pickwick
Plunging under the surface,
Swallowing water I won't cough up.
Choking underneath.

The sun beams down onto the surface,
It smiles at me, the most brilliant smile.

"I'm ready."

Reflections flicker like quick flashes of pictures
Of myself as a small child,
Carving pumpkins on the kitchen floor with my mother.
Snorting and laughing,
"Mommy, you're so funny!"
This is all I can think of.

The trees look down on me, disappointed, I can see it.
They wave goodbye to me in the warm summer breeze,
So full of life.

"I'm ready."

The pain in my chest is slowly disappearing.
My head is full of endless possibilities, but no remorse.
I'm surrounded by a glimmer, circling my body.
It's so happy, it's dancing for me.

"I'm ready."

And I can't see anymore,
I am just left with my final thoughts.
But I know in my soul,
It will be beautiful, wherever it is.
Whenever I get there, sooner or later.
A blast of sun shining through my broken spirit.

**"I'm ready."
 Mar 2014 Ashita
K Balachandran
Alone, she collects pebbles
from the sands of seashore
only to throw back each
with all her might, as if
its her revenge;
all of a sudden she stops
throwing them
back on the flat waves,
just to see them leapfrog,
a few times and vanish.

A sandcastle, he was busy
building on damp sand,
laboring alone like a child,
as if it means a lot,
but the spires refuse to
stay up, collapse again and again
against his wish.
it has become a total mess,
irredeemable for him alone,
or even with some help.

Perturbed he looks,
at the very moment-
from somewhere close by,
wind brings the overpowering stench
of rotting sea weeds and dead fish,
that makes them both look up
at once, by chance
and gaze at each other's face
as if they don't
recognize each other,
for a long, long moment.
 Mar 2014 Ashita
SøułSurvivør
Was painted on the east coast.


By Soul Survivor
CATHERINE E JARVIS

me by the Grace of God.
 Mar 2014 Ashita
Cailey Weaver
Taking a chance will

                                       Either open a door or

Slam one in your face.
It's 50/50. Nothing's guaranteed, but there's still a chance.
 Mar 2014 Ashita
Sam Temple
crusty snot ring.. dirt coated
rosey cheeks and twinkling eyes
proceed to explain the intricacies
of the mole hill the dog was digging in
grimy fingers tell a different story
with grass stained knees to fill in the gaps
yet the excitement of the tale grips me
as I hear about the most giant gopher ever
and the fight that ensued between my ole hound
and a chipmunk straight from the fires of hell
I ask him to repeat the really good parts
thrilled, he explodes forth with all new details
seems giant squirrels have invaded my backyard
and only my rascally black lab can stop them
hearing gravel on the driveway
I envision the face of my daughter
as she spies the condition
survey’s the scene
at least this time grandpa is clean
 Mar 2014 Ashita
Emma Pickwick
His hands,
His hands,
He didn't have the right hands.

They weren't shaped right,
They weren't the right size,
They didn't feel right pressed against my body.
His hands didn't cup my ******* with love.
They didn't look like those of a strong man.

I've dreamed of these hands since I was young,
And I don't know why.
I haven't been able to find the right ones.

The right touch,
The right grasp,
The right hands.

I can see the veins,
Pressing against the surface of his skin.
The small lines sprawled across his palms.
His fingers a certain length,
His knuckles a certain size.
His hands,
The right ones.

Man of my dreams,
Only in my dreams,
His hands in my heart,
His hands the right hands.
 Mar 2014 Ashita
Schmucker
To the lady who thinks she's part fish or something.*
Yes I'm a rude *** ******* when I want to be.  
Is there truth in handles?
My handle is a play on my name AND I admit,
one of my all time favorite activities.
Why hit follow the Schmucker?
Not exactly seeking anyone lonely lady.
You spending hours mass producing poems
screams and shouts no life to me.
I go for women who have actually real lives.
Maybe you are a sea nymph luring men to death.
Hey maybe you sing seductively and you charming.
Maybe you a music instrument making notes and
maybe you full of steam.
Hell maybe you a eel type salamander with
permanent gills and no hind legs.
Seen a pic and a SMOKIN' anything?
Hell to the no! You not to me!
 Mar 2014 Ashita
Kagami
Help me...
 Mar 2014 Ashita
Kagami
I have one last request. **** me.
Help me run away. Anything.
I sit here in agonizing pain as
I press my frozen fingertips
Into my burning eyes,
Trying,
Fighting,
Murdering every tear that threatens to escape.
I feel chilled across every expanse of my skin and
I wait for the end that I have wanted for so long.
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