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 Apr 2015 Invocation
Riot
nobody
 Apr 2015 Invocation
Riot
nobody notices how dark we are
until we walk in front of a moving car
He sat gripping his beer bottle in one hand
and a pen in the other, tapping it repetitively
on the open notebook before him.

That's when a little red-haired squeeze
came in and sat beside him, grazing his leg
with hers as she ordered her mixer.

She saw the great potential for love in his eyes
and started questioning his mind accordingly.
Seeking his essence, searching his being.

Yet he never shifted his gaze from the lined paper,
and answered all of her inquisitions without hesitation
because he knew what she wanted.

But she shifted closer to him and started to speak under
her breath, asking him if he has a woman waiting for him
at home. Asking more than her words implied.

His knuckles whitened and tightened around the green glass,
and the pen started tapping faster and faster on the unwritten
words upon the empty sheets.

She put her hand on his forearm and the tapping ceased
as blood red mist started fogging his already blurred vision,
seeing crimson, he ripped his eyes from the blank pages.

The bottle shattered and broken glass sank into his palm,
the pen erupted painting his calloused fingers black.
He turned and faced this intruder.

"Please leave me alone now," he spits into her frightened face,
and the crimson fog covers his sight completely, as his thirst is
sparked, ignited, and begins burning furiously.

He slams his eyelids shut and searches for Arlo's words,
searches for Arlo's eyes in his mind.
Searches and searches for her heart.

He massages his temples and counts his breaths.
He fights for his sanity in the face of doubt and intolerance.
He just wants his dear to be here..
He sighs and opens his eyes.

And he's alone again.
You drive me sane, my dear Arlo.


.
 Apr 2015 Invocation
Jason Drury
I am walking.
Pushed slightly, by the northeast.
My companion yellow in color,
fondles the air with his muzzle.

Our strides take us forward.
Galloping cracked pavement.
Exploring familiar arch ways,
of hemlock and bittersweets.  

Our view is panoramic.
With flights honking in the distance,
as they return to the waking land.

We huddle at the top.
Where we watch the day,
tuck away into eves pocket.

This light is special.
It is a sensation of nothing,
and everything.

It fills you and the land,
with just enough.
Then swiftly dims away.

Leaving softly.
Is truly a perfect,
ending.
 Apr 2015 Invocation
Anne Sexton
Child, the current of your breath is six days long.
You lie, a small knuckle on my white bed;
lie, ****** like a snail, so small and strong
at my breast. Your lips are animals; you are fed
with love. At first hunger is not wrong.
The nurses nod their caps; you are shepherded
down starch halls with the other unnested throng
in wheeling baskets. You tip like a cup; your head
moving to my touch. You sense the way we belong.
But this is an institution bed.
You will not know me very long.

The doctors are enamel. They want to know
the facts. They guess about the man who left me,
some pendulum soul, going the way men go
and leave you full of child. But our case history
stays blank. All I did was let you grow.
Now we are here for all the ward to see.
They thought I was strange, although
I never spoke a word. I burst empty
of you, letting you learn how the air is so.
The doctors chart the riddle they ask of me
and I turn my head away. I do not know.

Yours is the only face I recognize.
Bone at my bone, you drink my answers in.
Six times a day I prize
your need, the animals of your lips, your skin
growing warm and plump. I see your eyes
lifting their tents. They are blue stones, they begin
to outgrow their moss. You blink in surprise
and I wonder what you can see, my funny kin,
as you trouble my silence. I am a shelter of lies.
Should I learn to speak again, or hopeless in
such sanity will I touch some face I recognize?

Down the hall the baskets start back. My arms
fit you like a sleeve, they hold
catkins of your willows, the wild bee farms
of your nerves, each muscle and fold
of your first days. Your old man's face disarms
the nurses. But the doctors return to scold
me. I speak. It is you my silence harms.
I should have known; I should have told
them something to write down. My voice alarms
my throat. "Name of father-none." I hold
you and name you ******* in my arms.

And now that's that. There is nothing more
that I can say or lose.
Others have traded life before
and could not speak. I tighten to refuse
your owling eyes, my fragile visitor.
I touch your cheeks, like flowers. You bruise
against me. We unlearn. I am a shore
rocking you off. You break from me. I choose
your only way, my small inheritor
and hand you off, trembling the selves we lose.
Go child, who is my sin and nothing more.
Virtue runs before the muse
And defies her skill,
She is rapt, and doth refuse
To wait a painter's will.

Star-adoring, occupied,
Virtue cannot bend her,
Just to please a poet's pride,
To parade her splendor.

The bard must be with good intent
No more his, but hers,
Throw away his pen and paint,
Kneel with worshippers.

Then, perchance, a sunny ray
From the heaven of fire,
His lost tools may over-pay,
And better his desire.
Sometimes
I get really angry
and I think to myself
about how much you never told me
and I hate that it's always on my mind

I hate that when I see her
I only hate her
and I don't hate you too

I should
but I just can't
because when I'm around her
I am weak
and when I am around you
I am weak
and when you worked together
to bring me down
I had never been lower
and I had never before understood
why she would always call me
late at night
and cry
but right then
I wished I had someone
that I could call to talk me out
of the deep emotions i was feeling
someone
that I could call
late at night
and cry to

But I was helpless
and I was my own hero

But I had lost those people
to each other

And there is no deeper betrayal
than two-timing
and yet
I act every day like I don't care

And yet
everyone says I shouldn't care

But I think it would be worse
if I didn't care at all
because then wouldn't that mean
that I don't care about all of the other emotions
you make me feel?

The memories might not all break our fall
some of them may have broken us
but I would rather
have those bruises and scratches on my body
than be naive and dive right in

Apprehensive may not be ideal
but it is helpful

It takes so much in me to not doubt you
and believe that I'm the only one
and you may get annoyed by that
but when that's all I'm used to

being used
being disrespected
being lied to

what exactly do you expect?
I hope you don't get mad at me for this.
Sitting here

cold

praying that you'd come back
like they always do in the movies

everyday
you used to walk me to class
and now everyday
i pause and wait
to see if you've changed your mind

if you'll meet me here today
everyday
for five months
i have continued
to wait for you

"there will never be another girl like you"
were the last of the words you said to me

so then who is she
i know who she is
but why her
she will never be like me
even i can see that

seeing you with her
it makes my mind roar
and my heart weep
it makes my eyes crinkle
and my hands shake
it makes my breath stop
and knees weak

how am i supposed to do this
everyday
until i don't have to see you again
i know that eventually i will come back
on my knees
begging for forgiveness
for something i didn't even do
but i love you enough that i will take the blame
for the action that broke my heart
October 30th, 2011
11:14pm

the only time i will ever be thankful for that old friend
whose birthday i was waiting for
because that way
i was awake
when we finally said what we had been dying to say
for three years
i love you
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