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 Sep 2014 enn
Tark Wain
Blue Eyes
 Sep 2014 enn
Tark Wain
All words once used
to describe the eyes the color blue
tied together, tried and true
are still nowhere near good enough for you
 Jun 2014 enn
Patricia Vaz
2
 Jun 2014 enn
Patricia Vaz
2
your silhouette,
still imprinted in the back of my head.
details as clear as the palm of my hand.
everything so clear,
yet so vague.

Because I can't remember
the color of your eyes,
yet I can still distinguish
your soft touch
when you push my hair behind my ear,
and plant kisses on my cheek.

If I focus hard enough
I can still feel your heart beat
as if our hearts were combined,
our souls intertwined

as if you were still mine.
 Jun 2014 enn
daisies
Gnossienne
 Jun 2014 enn
daisies
I spot my reflection in the silhouette of your eyes.
Like a mirror, you are me and I am you.
In this lonely hour, and in this hollow room,
my eardrums fill with piano notes and rhymes,
as everything around me suddenly goes quite and silence blooms.

I come to realize our love is nothing but
meaningful lyrics hung upon abandoned piano keys,
and unuttered syllables written
amongst a music sheet.

Yet, the symphony plays perpetually,
loud and clear, demanding to be heard, to be felt.
It lifts me up, swirling me in your galaxy,
and every so often, I approach to tear off the mask you've been hiding behind,
till there's nothing left but musical debris.

I strip you of salvation.
I unleash your wholeness.
Rondes and blanches and noires
punctuate and embellish your figure.
They are a halo.
They are *mine.
Wrote this while listening to Erik Satie's Gnossienne no. 3. Give it a listen if you'd like.
 Jun 2014 enn
Lyzi Diamond
My girl is the softest planet
and I am unsure, but she says
the gaseous rings are clinging
tight to her knuckles and it is
after midnight when she finally
exhales and the room turns pink
and bright with starlight

On absent Tuesdays, and only those
of even number, we sit on docks
and watch the city float by
on cumulonimbus and pouring
and hail tie-dying the whites on our shirts
and blue eyes gray in stony reflection

Purple tangle watches, thorny stems
on a chase through the downtown streets
after falling for and off of you
under creaks of a lifting bridge
 Jun 2014 enn
Leonard Cohen
The door it opened slowly,
my father he came in,
I was nine years old.
And he stood so tall above me,
his blue eyes they were shining
and his voice was very cold.
He said, "I've had a vision
and you know I'm strong and holy,
I must do what I've been told."
So he started up the mountain,
I was running, he was walking,
and his axe was made of gold.
Well, the trees they got much smaller,
the lake a lady's mirror,
we stopped to drink some wine.
Then he threw the bottle over.
Broke a minute later
and he put his hand on mine.
Thought I saw an eagle
but it might have been a vulture,
I never could decide.
Then my father built an altar,
he looked once behind his shoulder,
he knew I would not hide.
You who build these altars now
to sacrifice these children,
you must not do it anymore.
A scheme is not a vision
and you never have been tempted
by a demon or a god.
You who stand above them now,
your hatchets blunt and ******,
you were not there before,
when I lay upon a mountain
and my father's hand was trembling
with the beauty of the word.
And if you call me brother now,
forgive me if I inquire,
"Just according to whose plan?"
When it all comes down to dust
I will **** you if I must,
I will help you if I can.
When it all comes down to dust
I will help you if I must,
I will **** you if I can.
And mercy on our uniform,
man of peace or man of war,
the peacock spreads his fan.
FASTEN your hair with a golden pin,
And bind up every wandering tress;
I bade my heart build these poor rhymes:
It worked at them, day out, day in,
Building a sorrowful loveliness
Out of the battles of old times.
You need but lift a pearl-pale hand,
And bind up your long hair and sigh;
And all men's hearts must burn and beat;
And candle-like foam on the dim sand,
And stars climbing the dew-dropping sky,
Live but to light your passing feet.
 May 2014 enn
geminicat
How Can I?
 May 2014 enn
geminicat
but how can i live on when your fingertips are still on my heart and your voice resonates down to my toes and your smile lives in my eyes
every time my mind wanders it goes straight to you.

— The End —