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Perfect Storm

Two clouds
merge
spontaneous night
warmth's housing
before
shuddering rains

Logan Robertson

10/1/17
A rain of bullets hit Las Vegas, leaving blacken skies
From disgraceful clouds of a loose cannon.
From the first 911 call to storm's demise
72 minutes downfall took human companions.

For them, life for one minute enjoying country songs
In the unbridled company of each others innocence.
Then good faith served the merry goers wrong
As the concert venue became the tomb of dissonance.

It hurts my heart to follow this story unfold
Of the climbing death toll, making this the worst ever.
Harder to imagine a mass killer cut from this mold
Of being so heartless and desensitized to life he severs.

To the victims accept my cries of condemning this worm
While paying homage to harmonious humans imparted from the eyes of the storm.

Logan Robertson

10/4/17
it’s 9:30pm on a
chilly autumn night
i step into the
passengers seat
of your car as you
start the engine

loud music blaring from
the speakers as the bass
shakes the entire car

we stop at a red light
I turn to look at you
as the red light perfectly
hits your face
i smile

your grip on the steering
is so strong that i can see
your veins popping out

you look so focused
when you drive
it’s ****
with only one hand
on the wheel
the other i wish
was gripping my thigh

late night drives
with you are
my favorite
he took me home last night so I decided to write about it :)
 Oct 2017 briannah rae
Monica S
She sits in a castle made of glass,
and waits for the guard bellow to pass.
Then slowly, she lets down her hair
and climbs down gently with some care.

Finally, her feet can touch the cold stone.
So she walks and walks till she hears a groan:
It was a wrinkled man; helpless and old;
beaten and poor but heart made of gold.

She bent down and sat there on one knee,
then played with her hair to earn some money.
Slowly but surely the money came pouring in
and, for a long time since, the old man was no longer thin.
Honestly it didn't take long to write but its a story which I wish could be seen more often
 Oct 2017 briannah rae
tory
he didn't commit
the crime
we did
we allowed him
to take those lives
to wore this gun
it doesn't leave my mind. it won't because it will happen again.
again and again. we can't allow this to happen. our voice matters. *this is not a poem.
 Oct 2017 briannah rae
Julia Mae
-
 Oct 2017 briannah rae
Julia Mae
-
i wrote you
notebooks full
you never read
a single word
i'm not writing
about you
anymore
 Oct 2017 briannah rae
Lindsay
Finding a lover is effortless
for some people.
They only want a few things:
Someone attractive, kind,
funny or rich.

But
I desire
something so much deeper.

I want

an intelligent mind
that wakes up thoughts in me
I didn't realize were hibernating.

I want

to converse, analyze and debate
without being conscious of
the sun rising and falling
between our words.

I want

to make a witty remark
at a coffee shop
so he can reply sarcastically
just for me to jab back immediately
and for him to comeback back playfully
until we're both laughing
stomachs shaking
spit flying
the whole store staring
and we leave
without coffee

I want

our hands to stitch together
perfectly
like two lost puzzle pieces;
one found under a couch cushion
one found inside a junk drawer.
The rest of the puzzle has
already been thrown away
but
these two pieces remain
and they fit.

I want

to fall in love together
then together fall in love with
art, museums, songs, poems
T.V shows, radio jingles,
greek food, backroads,
our mutual hatred for pop culture,
doing the dishes (as long as he washes and I dry)
wrong turns, piled up laundry, life.
Just fall in love with life.

I want

to hurt with him

I want

to save the world with him

I want

to meet, see, understand
and experience all that is foreign
with him.

I think it will only take us meeting
and it'll only be history and happiness from then on.

It's just a matter of if a love like that could ever be
and if a love like that could ever be for me.
 Oct 2017 briannah rae
Lora Lee
(explicit)

**** my soul
        with poetry
           scream out my gracious name
             slay me with words
               that peel my layers
                and simultaneously
                                   drive me
                                           insane

finger me slowly, hotly
with just the right rhythm and rhyme
    push me past my
                 tender limits
                       into tongues of syntax,
                                                      sublime

a­lliterate my senses
   (in swift stac
                    c-at
                           o)
until my mind is but blank verse
    mess up my stressed
              and unstressed syllables
in unsung language, versed

I will speak to you in vowels
(the only sound
       I will be able to make)
as you stroke
   my iambic pentameter
             in the heat of frothed-up
                                                     ache

we are this heroic couplet, you see
        even if the meaning seems veiled
           no need for simile or metaphor
               as I feel your chest rise
                              in deep inhale

we are a natural paradox
       so many ironies abound
         discordant harmony
is our synaesthesia
     in visible darkness found

and I love this delicious enjambment
as your aura invisibly slips
                               into mine
our lines have no beginning,
                                 no end
    as we undo
          the boundaries
                      of time
Explicit!
synaesthesia-The production of a sense impression relating to one sense or part of the body by stimulation of another sense or part of the body.

en·jamb·ment
inˈjambmənt,enˈjam(b)mənt/שלח
noun
(in verse) the continuation of a sentence without a pause beyond the end of a line, couplet, or stanza.
I want to bury my soul in your loneliness to spring a beautiful dandelion of your happiness.
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