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  May 2016 Bilford
Adam Long
I could drown,
Within those eyes
A deeper blue,
Than all the skies.
For a single Kiss,
I'd tell a million lies

For a cold glance
Glacial blue.
There is no thing
I would not do

Contradicting hands
Which feel so warm.
For one handshake
I'd **** a swarm.

I was never yours
And you, never mine,
But for your presence
I'd give my mind.

I'd sell it,
I'd **** it,
I'd change.
Just so you,
Would feel the same.

My love,
You don't love me.
I'm not blind,
But I couldn't see.

When you said friends,
That's what you meant.
But I know, no effort
Was ever spent.

I paid the price,
Of my sanity.
Though I gained a love,
For all eternity.

So suffer I may,
And die I might.
But the law of love,
Only tells us what's right.

And that law tells me,
There will never be a we.
And accepting that,
Allows me to be free.

So move on I will
And for you
I will never ****

For we weren't,
Meant to be.
So I will move on,
Happy now, with just me.
Clearing through some old poet freak stuff and i found this, very nostalgic in a sad way. Tell me what you think :)
  May 2016 Bilford
Mateuš Conrad
my mother said i was a tyrant,
my father just said: you'll scare their children...*

and i guess that's true,
given the fact that poetry became
a joke, cute pompous readied
for seasons and such damnable events
as speaking at funerals...
i guess i am a joke, my output is a joke,
poetry per se is a joke ergo...
i guess they will fear me because
i expressed a love of poetry like
a salvation army band member...
i sang to the highest peak and
ebbed towards the lowest valley
where at last i met the shadow of death;
that's the point of fear, they think
you've a steady job going for you,
that you expect that the only art these days
is only worth a part-time status and
not the pope's patronage...
then you realise i'm not earning... then what?
ha ha... you do jack ****!
oh my tyrant, me Napster... me ball-less in
Chinook covering Cairo's airspace for a radio
broadcast of no bankrupt ****** mega-store;
poetry the cheapest art,
hence so many poets and hence so few risk-takers,
1000 poets and about 100 poems among them to share
a credible signature to.
Bilford May 2016
Edited by Maple, because mine was a rant nobody but she was supposed to indulge. Hahaha. See. I wasn't intending on trending.

I knew a wretched person once. And then. She died.

Now. Condoning death is the fastest method for becoming THE social pariah - for future reference.

But my god. I hated her. I really did. Not simply me; most of our peers felt similar. At least, they did till it was no longer *appropriate.


See. Morgan was a ruthless psychopath.
And then she was dead.

Now. As a stranger, if you were to lurk her Facadebook, you'd think she'd been some ethereal messiah. Her web page is now trampled with laments. Kinda like the stampede that killed Mufasa. Her present facadebook now marks a day the devil became synonymous with our homegirl, Momma Teresa.

In what world, right?

The details of the fatality remain insane. Ranging from Ketamine to ******. But I won't illustrate them. Go see it yourself - on Doctor ******* Phil.

And they call me crazy.



Anyways.

I'm sorry, but she was a maniacal parasite with love like shrapnel. She destroyed her lovers, her family, her arsenal of friends by habit. And she did this for fun. So, again, I'm sorry. Sorry I am hardly sorry she died.

That's a lie, though. I'm not sorry at all.

Karma is candy. I'm happy she's gone. Never again to crumple and crush her loved ones to mush as mere eggs to her morning omelette.

And our world is a happier place.

Sue me.





**for whatever reason this will not publish or save this particular recount
For Maple Syrup because I'm sick of memorializing the dead simply for dying.  

Sue me.
  Mar 2016 Bilford
Maple Mathers
From: Daniel Rodden

This notice is from Daniel Rodden who is currently residing in Garfield jail. This is an informational email to let you know of the different options available for communication with Daniel Rodden. Several services offered by the jail:

InmateCanteen.com
The following options are available at Inmate Canteen.
Deposit Funds
Purchase Phone Cards
Buy Canteen
Video Visitation*
E-mail an Inmate
awh
  Mar 2016 Bilford
Maple Mathers
Reads:

Hello, I'm
******


(And you are my path)
(All poems original Copyright of Eva Denali Will © 2015, 2016)
  Mar 2016 Bilford
Maple Mathers
you sent this from jail:

"My goodness these messages just made my morning. Absoloodle. I have been trying to call you but no luck..your'e right though communicating in here is tougher than it seems. Kitsch? Sounds delicious. I dreamt about you last night so this is just crazy right now. I love you so much.. Thank you thank you. I've lost so much and the fact that you out of anyone still cares lights a fire in me, making me stronger, and not letting this system break me down and dehumanize me and institutionalize my yoked up brains. No missy, i've actually been doing hundreds of pushups a day so i'm gonna come out all sculpted and angry haha..maybe a neck tattoo."


I miss the days I believed him.
I went to his trial drunk cause *******.
  Mar 2016 Bilford
Maple Mathers
But I'll take it.**


Seth Sentry
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