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 Dec 2015 Ashley Lani Cross
•atop the mast billows
my wind-tossed rag•grinning skull embla-
zoned proud•the starkness of black upon my flag
•piercing the encroaching sea mist and shroud•her-
ald the sight of the jolly roger • instilling trepidation
in all who sail through my turf • fuelled by the thirst
to pillage and plunder•others before, have sunk into
graves beneath the surf•my salt encrusted timber
creaks                   a frightening low                growl•
my hull                       would pum-                     mel thro-
ugh the opposing waves•    my sails bloat full trapping
winds that howl•my       deck bears the screams
of a thousan-            d slaves•know
me, seafarers... i am no legend but
truth•avast! seafarers, i am the tale
that looms•believe me, seafarers for i
am ca-        pable         of all         things

•••                                                 ­        •••
  uncouth                                                 •fear me,
seafarers for                                            i am your
doom•you could                                 sail the seas with
the world's most                    skillful of crew•
you cannot deny the
heavy hand of fate•be-
cause once my vessel comes
within view                             •you would
know for certain                                that it's already
•••••••                                       •••••••
•••••                                               •••••

*too late•
Concrete Poem 17 of 30

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 Dec 2015 Ashley Lani Cross
•look far...
to the horizon•as the sun
dips into the ocean •most magnific-
ent display of colours • radiance in yell-
ows and captivating ambers•majestic specta-
cle that will  dwindle within minutes•no words
could match  such  beauty that deals  in infinites •
~ si  nk ing unse~en beyo nd the thr eshold• the mi ~ghty ~~
~ ~  s  un grows red der•~night sky cree ps in, with th e ~
~~ ~moon smilin g bold• ad opting her ~stan ce as the     ~ ~
~~  ~ gua  rdi~an hereaf ter• entour age~ of s  tars  ~
      ~   ~*****  le with s peckle s of g old •       ~ ~
        ~   ~      ~ ~ b~idding  farewell t o         ~  ~       ~
~             ~t he su ~n's
~       ~~~
~            ~~         ~  ~     ~
~~ ~                   ~ ~               ~

*ruling sceptre•
Concrete Poem 18 of 30

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 Dec 2015 Ashley Lani Cross
                       •the   ••••••••
         old man wi-    ••••••••
    thered•as suns    ••••••••
  would set....over    ••••••••
many days•follies    ••••••••  
he committed, then    ••••••••    
unencumbered•fina-    ••••••••       
lly caught now    ••••••••         
he pays • like an unca-    ••••••••         
ged bird,  he had left his    ••••••••            
perch• not looking                                              
back, leaving behi-                                                
nd hatchlings  and                                                  ­
nest• he discarded                                                    
his­  roots  when he                                                    
left them  in the lu-                                                      
rch• flew to pursue                                                      
what­  he had thoug-                                                      
ht was best•now he's                                                    ­ 
ailing thin.....he seeks                                                     
to reconcile • reached                                                   
to his sons...and left a                                                   
voice message•asking                                               
atonement for  his cri-                                             
mes so despicable and                                          
vile • for now he lays con-    ••••••••   illness and    ••••••••         
rage•hours tick by as his    ••••••••       
days blur into weeks...•    ••••••••      
his frail  breaths weak-    ••••••••   
en as he succumbs in    ••••••••
  bed•finally the call    ••••••••
     did come bearing    ••••••••
           the absolution    ••••••••
                   he seeks•    ••••••••

just a minute too late,
for the old man is already
Concrete Poem 21 of 30

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 Dec 2015 Ashley Lani Cross
/                                  /             /           /    /           /    /
/             /                       //          /        / /        /
/           /     /    /             /                       /        /       /    /
//               /        /     ••        /               /    / /
/      /           /      •••   /                 /   /
/            /         •lift me up over-          /             /
/      /    head•for i only seek to shelter    /      //
          you•from the sun who'd scorch you red          /
•from monsoon rains that'll chill you blue•you
may at times think i'm cumbersome to carry•when
the winds of change put you in all kinds of weather•
but i can collapse and fold... i stow away easy•keep me
close and i will spring to your aid... whenever, wherever•
such           is my           pro-   ••   mise           to...           you•
•                   •                  •       ••      •                  •                   •
•••            cta-                   
•••          ble                 

soon you'll find my words to be true•
that i'd forever be your brolly
For my family.

Concrete Poem 22 of 30

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I thought you where a puzzle
With a missing piece

But you where always just the  piece
That i was missing
 Nov 2015 Ashley Lani Cross
You're made up of layers
more than a hundred of them
but when you peel a few
they thought they already know you
impressed, appalled to see you
baring your soul, opening yourself
and you find it funny
and you find it kinda sad
because to you it's nothing
like a small scratch on a surface
nothing but just a few layers off
and you have a hundred more to go.
That year was so cold
As cold as that winter that wouldn't end
All I remember about that year
Was how little I fit in anywhere
How I connected with no one
How I sat alone at school
While in a room with 40 others

I lost count of how many hours I spent
Alone in my parents cold garage
Sitting in my car that needed a new motor
Watching the snow fall from the window
And the breath rise from my mouth

All the times I sat staring at a handful of pills
Too broken to go on, but too scared to sign out
Caught in endless torment, with no future in sight
Half of me not caring anymore
Half wanting so bad to hold on

I never imagined I'd survive that year
Or the next, then 5, and 10
Or have the life that I have today
But I am evidence that all of it's true

And giving up too early in life
Is like throwing your cards down too soon
You just might be holding a king or a queen
But it might take you more time to know

by Lj Mark
A very true account of my life at 17 years old.
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