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 Sep 2013 Black and Blue
Mags
so now you sit there and pretend to be alright
though you know you can't make it through another night.

but you don't talk about it, even with your closest friends
(do they exist?)
because you know already, it would just sound strange.

you wouldn't know how to describe that "it"
a feeling? a word? or just a trick?

the truth is, you don't know how to begin.
it's just that you kind of... don't fit in.

you hang out with the normal group of friends
but feel left out. why pretend?

does he like me?
does she make fun of me behind her back?

am i different in any way?
should i change, am i... okay?

saying it, writing it down, it sounds silly

it doesn't even rhyme, does it?
does it matter? does it?

does anything?
 Sep 2013 Black and Blue
Madi
I am not the first of my kind
Not judgmental but intuitive
I see you not through my eyes.
I am consistently sardonic
It's the shield I hunch behind
I am an eclectic downpour
I am not hard to find.
I am an inverted being
I am a passive grind
I am a lonesome soul
I am not the first of my kind.
I am the winter solstice
I am the northern lights
I am a verse in poetry
I am cautious but not blind.
Sporadic streams of passion
I am a tight knit rewind
I am a blood soaked canvas
My heart is a woeful shrine.
If every button on your blouse and jeans
Were the knobs of the doors
Of the Budget Inn
I would wrap my hand around them forcefully
And twist and turn until
I finally gained entry.
And if the unwashed comforters
That cover the soiled beds
Were your eager lips
I would jump into them
Until the stains left by other lovers
Made their mark on my skin
In the form of broken blood vessels
And residual lipstick.
And if the thin pages of the
Dust-covered bible tucked into the nightstand
Were every word you whispered
Before sinking your teeth into my skin
I would rip out every page
And paste them over the peeling wallpaper
So that I would be able to read them
Again and again and again
Until I finally believed
That more than failed religion
Could bring me to my knees.
Desires for you
run rampant in the night.
I listen to the whispers of your thoughts
while I lay in your satin.


We could never be this way again.

Now it's suddenly like a drifting sea of calm water.
Slow. Stable.
Darkness creeps beside me
coaxing sleep to rest upon my eyelids,
Me yearning for another glimpse of you.
 Sep 2013 Black and Blue
Akemi
Blister bites
Beneath the skin
Of conflict wars
In ignorance

The border die
Was fixed at six
Symmetrical
To wilful sin

Change and change
Won’t come
Without collapse

Your lips
Your breath
Come without cracks and gasps
Your eyes
Your tears
Come without dust and fear

There’s something
Amiss
With the land we’re living in
Can’t quite
Place my
Ignorance on it

I once saw a man
Blended into the night
With a tarnished can and a sign
But everyone walked on by

I once saw a child
Work to death in the sun
With a knife and a gun
Against his back

First world?
Third world?
We live in the same world . . .
12:23pm, August 27th 2013

The comforts of first world nations thrive upon third world suffering, but people don't want to know :( they're wilfully ignorant because they'd rather keep doing all those things that make themselves feel good, instead of facing the consequences of their actions.

I still can't believe how selfish people are. It doesn't make me angry at people, but at the source of where this selfish image arose. We were raised back when TVs were still a prevalent part of our lives, and most of our shows were American (as New Zealand follows America more than Britain I feel). No matter the show; reality, drama, sitcoms; they all had this underlying current that you will feel amazing when you're rich. Practically propaganda for the capitalist system. Getting big, getting recognised, getting rich. As opposed to finding happiness . . .

I'm not surprised most people desire money now, or fame. They just recognise it as life, as if our social construct defines us. That's probably why so many people try to stay 'normal' as they grow up, and frown upon anything out of place.

I really do hope things change in the next few decades. With the advancement of the internet, kids these days are brilliantly perceptive. Hell, I taught twelve year olds who knew how terrible McDonald's was, etc. I even had a 30 minute discussion about our social system with one of them. I think he knew more than me :S
Tell me one thing that makes you really sad, he begged her.

Looking at his eye lashes, she wondered, then said, there is one thing.

What is it, he wanted to know.

It’s when I am trying to see you the way you were as a child.

He smiled a confused smile. But you cannot know that. We only know each other for a few weeks.

Her face brightened up, her eyes watered; exactly, she said. Exactly.
A tall man is walking
Across the bridge at the river.
If I look very hard
I can see his hands quiver.

He is a poet
And popular, too,
For the men of the village
Claim it to be true.

But today he is moving
With a crooked pace,
His limbs slightly distant
Searching his trace.

Approaching the poet
I hurry to find
The skinny figure
With a beautiful mind.

As my lips part to speak,
His finger flies to my mouth,
Sealing the gap
So no sound would come out.

And his rickety hands
Shape figures above
Of great clearness and passion
For me to set off.

And I see for the first time
How fed up he is
With the weight of those words
- How genuine is this?
Colours of mountains,
The song of a blackbird,
Painful it was, and a little bit scary.

When my eyes would grow bigger,
Rays of light shaped the edges
Of things and of shadows
Not seen but felt.

Carrying on in a distance,
I learned to distinguish
The sounds from the voices
Of soundless creatures.
Battered and crumbled, fallen to pieces,
The cities lie dusty, and silent He is.
Until looking at her face,
So pure and so shiny,
Pacing towards her, through the debris he walks.

Unfolding his black wings,
He comes to a halt.
And she stands, with a shiver,
Her eyes wide in awe.

A second of loud noise,
Then a minute of hush,
So they stand and they stare,
For nobody to see.

In the end it is Him
Who is finally vanquished,
By the immediate gaze
Of a flesh and blood creature.

Arising again, He grows paler -
             and paler.
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