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 Oct 2013 Brianna
M Padin
These old doors,
sullen as spinsters.

Wharves, deckhands, the old chopping block:
flights of time misremembered in a
backward gaze.

Toes in water.
Hooks to fish.
The sea salty.

How shall I count the ways...
lost among the waves.

But look, afar, the old man on his boat!
Is he Charon come to point the way to
the seaward lost; or has he come to
sequester memory to some far shore?

(Maybe he's a schmuck with a paddle!)

Seagulls, feathers, the brine:
all groan with this wood.
In this wood was the line
that snatched life from the water
(the fish, the scales—they shine)
and flopped on the deck,
heterocercal.

The evening closes on this vista but
not the charades of time.
Written for this collection of excellent photographs. A departure of style for me, but hey, quatrains aren't going to cut it anymore. You may find the photographs here:

http://julianesharirphotography.wordpress.com/2013/10/01/not-broadway/

Comments are welcome.
 Oct 2013 Brianna
Aubrey Rose
Do you like music? I like music.
I like the way it sounds, the way it feels
and how it can make the floor shake.

Whats your favorite band? I don't have one,
but I love Bread; that old 70's rock group.
They have a song called “Everything I own.”
I don't think it's a realistic song, but it's nice to
think that someone would give everything they had
to get someone back.

They're from California. Have you ever been there?
I haven't. Everyone is always supposed to be high,
but I think that's whats called a “hasty generalization.”
There's also a lot of wine vineyards there. I wonder if it
smells good.

Have you ever been high? I haven't, but my friends are a lot.
They always tell me scary stories about getting high, so I don't think
I'll ever try it. I like to drink, though.
Drinking is fun if you're with the right people. If you're with the
wrong people you either wake up with a hangover, or you don't
drink at all, because they make you feel bad for doing it.

Do people ever make you feel bad? They always make me feel guilty.
It's easy to make me feel guilty, even if what I'm doing isn't wrong.
It's kind of funny, how people can make you feel.
Sometimes I don't like it, but there are a few people who make you feel good.
I guess parents, sometimes. Friends and lovers for the most part though.

Have you ever been in love? I have. It's great, until it leaves.
Love can make you the happiest, or the saddest person in the world.
It's like a really old roller coaster at Six Flags in Georgia. It climbs
up the first hill so slowly you wonder if it will start going backwards.
Then, as soon as you pause at the top you can look around. It's really pretty
up there, everything in sight.
You're on top of the world.
Then, you fall. You rush down the hill a million times faster than you climbed it.
That's how love is sometimes.

Do you like talking? I do sometimes. Sometimes I can just go on and on.
Other times I like to be quiet, listen to people around me, or just sit in silence.
I don't mean to talk a lot, but sometimes I do. Sometimes I don't say anything.
I guess everyone likes to talk sometimes. Everyone likes to talk about themselves.
There's nothing wrong with that, we all just do.
Thanks for this conversation with me, I hope I didn't talk too much.


Do you like goodbye's? I don't.
You'r dreams float by like a careless breeze
Tossed and destroyed like stormy seas

You made your plans but soon they failed
All because that ship has sailed

Your life has changed because of the choices you've made
Swift and sharp like the edge of a blade

The fork in the road will appear one more
The answer is in you deep in you'r core

Left or right will choose you'r plight
A life full of darkness or bright golden light
© Zachary J Morsette 2013
 Oct 2013 Brianna
Francesca
Souls like us
Are widely awake
At 3am- while everybody
Is in the midst
Of their slumber

It's in these times
Our mind and soul
Are mostly active
Struggling to find a way
Out of our own thoughts

While everyone holds
A glass of fancy liquor
We hold our hearts in our pens
Afraid it's gonna be like this forever

While everyone holds their pillow close
Or someone they love
We are up with words- almost overdose
Writing for someone we lost
 Oct 2013 Brianna
Redshift
there are things in this world that aren't ******* fair
like children who believe they have ADD
and avoid dealing with what they really have.
like mothers who tell their children lies
about fathers
like children who adopt monsters that don't belong to them
personas that they try on like sparkly ballet flats
writing poems about being abused
and having ADD
and a ****** life
some children are wrong.
and i only know because i am their sister
children learn to tell lies
it's not their fault
i must remember not to blame them
but it is hard
there are people in this world who were truly abused
and you, sisters
befoul their anguish
with your wolf-cries.
i will never know how many times i must say this
but you weren't ******* abused
and you don't have ADD
and your mother is a ******* liar
i love you both
but i cannot listen
any more.
 Oct 2013 Brianna
AJ Cox
This one time I felt* your pull of my
Hips, subtly curving to meet your touch
Fingers c
                a
                   s
                      c
                         a
                           d
                              i
                                n
                                  g
                                     through my hair hanging
Medium to fine
Fire*
            
                Down
                         My
                              back.

And pulled it hard-er.  Please.
 Oct 2013 Brianna
AJ Cox
This road less traveled, has been walked down before
A million times and a million times more
So much that people’s feet have gotten rather swollen and sore.
As they sit from the sidelines watching you limp through the road that has been traveled
Some more
Thinking, “******* this road’s a *****.”
you may have
wandered your way
into my late night cabs
and the quiet confines of my mind
in the back's of buses-

but rest assured
the weather's only getting warmer
and i soar over the east river
with the windows down
pull the hurricane hair from my mouth
with the fingers that grazed you wine-drunk
(assured my heart an infallible compass,
blessed our love an under-dog's triumph)
but know the music's loud,
and i wear my smirk like a god given right

while the goosebumps
of you
slowly smooth.
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