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The entangled dust touched garden
hold secrets from the seasons of change
desperate chameleon leaves
                                                  C
                                                     L
                                                        I
                                                          N
                                                             G
To the trees like the last
plucking petal to the flower and a naive child,
praying for ears to BURN with those ignorant yet powerful words
                                  "he loves me"
Broken
             D
                O
                   W
                       N
                            Like compost
                                     Left there
scented mint leave aura adjusting to a constant reminder of your scent
knowing I was decomposable
but nothing in a garden stands
              *alone
 Dec 2013 Brian Martinez
pookie
people tell me how to lead my life,
they bully me into it,
they try and mould me,
and try and tell me its simple,
and they tell me that i will bend under there will,

But this is where i say good bye to "them" because since i could think for myself,
i realised that actually life is complicated,
people lie and cheat,
they steal and ******,
they are sly and they use you,

i realised that to be my own person to find my way,
i had to take a different path,
so instead of following in the foot steps of those before me,
i didn't lie or cheat i didn't steal or ******,
all i did was to take what they gave,
and that is pain.

and i realised that,
really thats all we ever feel,
pain

it simple and easy to understand,
it hurts,
it burns,
it makes us cry,
it makes us want to die,

but we don't die we take that pain and turn it on others,
in wars and fights,
by bullying,
by ******,
by picking on the weak and pretending that we,
are strong.

when actually we are weak,
so weak we find it hard to stand in the morning,
we regret our actions,
we regret the words that have said,
and think to our selves,
why, why did i do it.

so when those people tell me how to lead my life,
and they bully me and hurt me,
i take it,
over and over again,
some say that thats being strong,
but me personal i think its because im weak,
and i cant stand the fact if i get off he floor ill just be beat back down,

but sometimes thats what we need to do,
to get up,
to take the pain,
and stand up,
stand strong,
and take control,
and lead our own lives.
Once thought forever willing: now
Gently beautifully unwilling
Unwinding and intertwining in the confidence
You pulled away from me
Like that song I waned to hear so badly but you always had an urge at that
Exact moment to move the needle of the record over to the next space like the space that was created in between and pulling us inevitably deep under and into your song
The song you felt we must hear repeat and listen so close with our ears that have prison bars descending from the cartilage and I must listen
And respond; respond with exactly the opinion of the song that you must approve
And never disagree or dislike
That needle must never be moved
I sit and see the scratches you made on the spaces of the song I wanted to play so that it would skip
Or rearrange words so that there was nothing the song could portray or say
You did not **** my song but you scared it
That’s the irresistible true
Now unwilling I put a new record with a new song: my song
  slowly taking my hand and gently moving the needle over to that thin space of the beautiful free
And hear the words not rearranged the song not skipped the message straight and clear
And I know time heals there is no more fear and I sing to my song with memories and tears
And finally just finally I let my song stay
let my bird like ears hear the sounds of a new bittersweet beauty called finding a new record
not forgiving but forgetting about the old one and I will stay:
Gently beautifully unwilling for every next record to come
The face is the soul's thumbprint,
the shape of character belying all lies;
subtle, compelling, and telling geometry:
face, the equation of I.
In the vast open spaces between my bones and skin, the empty rattle of where my heart once superimpose is where I shall love you for eternity.

The echos of past love never fail to visit me.

The friction between the miles on the bed was were once layer haunt me, and burns my flesh to even ponder over the idea of sleeping on your side.

I shall love you in the highest light. come gather along, wary over me.
Evil is injected in my veins.

I purposely find that the greatest love ever, is the love that ruins you for the rest of your life.

The love that merely makes you have a lump in your throat at the sound of a song you and your late lover shared.
It's the type of love, if you can even fathom calling it love;

that makes life worth wild. That type of love brings us the thrill of life, without that certain almost seeming everlasting pain, life is perhaps dull, without color if you will.

It's the love which leaves battle scars, and beyond that, it brings creativity and hope.
Nobody writes about that part, because they feel as if they didn't have to write anymore, after the horrid is over.

I desire to send you a good omen as I pass.
 Dec 2013 Brian Martinez
Amanda S
Grey sky
Don't believe you are not as beautiful as a blue sky.

Dave Matthews wrote a song about you
I love it to this day.

Vanilla Fudge
keeps my psychedelia streak going.

I listen as I look
at my beautiful grey sky.

Now Bob Dylan takes over my ears,
"Tomorrow is a long time."

I can see grey clouds
many miles away.

They give pretty background
to my trees across the way.
 Dec 2013 Brian Martinez
Amanda S
Dear America
I'm only embarrassed of you,
because I'm a history major
and I know what you've been through.

Some musical artist make me proud
to be an American,
Bob Dylan, Jim Morrison, and Lou Reed
they keep me lying in bed.

Christmas time is coming
as well as the folk songs too,
they keep me loving constantly
but also give me the blues.

Now Neil Young comes on my playlist
from above me; Canada,
he writes of America beautifully
and lets me feel love.

Why is it that a Canadian
can write better of a country
than its own members,
it is coming to me bluntly.
You were up the stairs but distance was key
                                                             ­       It was hurting you like she hurt me
                                                              ­                    Let him linger a little too close, I thought that all along
                                 I might have needed this the most  
                           Kissing a neck that was paralyzed              
      Laughing flirtatious but inside she cries
         What am I doing being present but not yet here?
        I hurt others like they hurt me this was my main fear
                           So I quietly ruined our august of freedom and the morals that were right
  Sneaking back down the stairs hiding my emotions and ceaselessly regretting that night
It was magical to see him crack
It was not a symbol that his youth was gone
But a glimpse of the innocence behind his façade
Sounding cynical, but loving the show
So put together, seeming inhuman, but when emotions came
Sickly interested and fulfilling that craving
To see one at a downfall
It was magical to see him crack
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