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 Sep 2015 Wanderer
SG Holter
Holy water into wine. Beer from barley.
Walking on the roof of a brewery,
Contemplating how Jimmy Fallon's
Finger never really seems to heal.

Combine harvester headlights dance
On the living room walls
As I lean back on my white IKEA
Sofa, tracing long hairs and

Fingerprints of lovers gone,
Wondering why I chose such a
Revealing colour.
Suppose the transparency matches

That of my soul's lining.
Holy water into wine.
Fields of gold now liquid painkillers
Slurring the voices in my head that

Pick fights with my heart over
Insignificant issues.
I lip synch to the music of my
Neglected talents and the memories

Of inspiration attached.
Bullets like knuckles rapping, rapping
At my empty chamber
Door.

Every finger I ever broke
Was from typing or
Punching
Walls.

Sometimes I put on the mask of
Poet, and pretend to be writing  
For as long as it takes to fool
The empty pages.
 Sep 2015 Wanderer
Dillon huey
I can hear the voices calling me to the gallows, and so speaks my soul.
Softly whispering my darkest secrets
for anyone listening close enough to hear.
Everything I've wanted to keep hidden from everyone, out in the open, hot summers air.
I hear the executioner walking as I wait to take my last breath and fall through the floor.
He reaches the platform, asks me to speak my final words.
Again I find words coming out of my mouth I'm not consciously speaking, everyone falls silent,
he pulls the lever, the floor drops, and my neck snaps.
I wake up from my disillusion only to find myself back where I started.
Searching.
Trapped in my head searching for an escape that is seemingly impossible to find.
No one can save me from this, surrounded by the demons that haunt my thoughts.
I have to overcome them, I have to overcome this.
I won't let them consume me.
I can only save myself.
It's time to remove this hollow mask, shed the shell of who I was and become who I know I need to be.
I've been searching for a savior for far too long,
I am what I've been searching for all this time.
I've been a slave to my demons, letting my conscious existence blur.
I'm taking back control,
until history repeats itself once more.
 Sep 2015 Wanderer
Dillon huey
Burn
 Sep 2015 Wanderer
Dillon huey
I watched the flames as they spilled over the landscape,
The danced higher than the skyscrapers as they took their shape,
The night sky burned brighter than even the sun,
And there was no way to know where the relentless fire had begun.
I walked away from the flames feeling the heat press firmly against my back,
Trying to get away before this city could collapse.
I was racking my brain trying to figure out how I got here,
The only clue I had was a note that read "This will be your final stop, my dear".
I didn't recognize the handwriting,
And it seemed like a part of me was fighting,
Fighting to spring awake from what it believed to be a dream,
But it was a reality that just tore at the seam.
I reached to put the note in my back pocket,
But instead I found a small heart shaped locket.
Another clue?
Or perhaps something to throw me askew.
I opened it without another moment to spare,
And inside was a small tuft of red hair.
Hair so red it seemed to burn,
A color so deep not even the flames could earn.
Everything was happening entirely too fast,
What had happened on this seemingly awful night that had passed?
I turned to face the flames once more,
But this time to let them engulf me in their allure.
The allure of a mystery gone unsolved,
And how around me it so seemed to revolve.
As I walked towards the burning city I looked above,
The smoke formed a cloud that almost looked like a dove.
I found myself back where I began,
And noticed a pair of black leather gloves on the ground spread like a fan,
I picked them up thinking they could be of good use,
When all of a sudden a building fell loose.
Collapsing underneath its own weight,
Burning from the inside like a person filled with hate.
I wouldn't let it set me back,
I had to make it before the whole city went black,
Before it was covered in its own filth and destruction.
Although it wouldn't be too different from the filth and corruption,
That had plagued the streets,
While the rest of the city lay asleep in their sheets.
I had been wandering through the burning city looking for anything that I recognized,
And I began to think that maybe I empathized,
With these people who watched everything they knew burn,
When I came across a building around the corner of a sharp turn.
It seemed almost familiar from a distance,
But it was hard to tell during this fiery instance,
There was so much smoke it caused my vision to be blurred,
I could only imagine the chaos of the cries unheard.
As I finally approached the door,
I put on the gloves as I could feel the heat more.
As I slipped them on out fell a small folded paper,
Surely another clue to this mysterious caper.
It was some sort of list,
I walked along and as I read a beam from the building fell and just nearly missed.
I put away the paper for now,
But only for as long as I could allow,
My curiosity to stay at bay,
Before in a grave my body lay.
Searching through the building I started to see,
This is a prison falling down around me.
I ran for the door just as more beams began to crash,
I wouldn't be left lying in the ash.
As I made it out the way I came,
I noticed something that didn't seem the same.
There was a giant fence that I didn't see before,
And empty cans of gas lying by the door.
I figured it was as good a time as any,
I removed the list and began to read, as the steps were many.
It was a plan to destroy the city,
step by step, the list almost made me giddy.
I was excited to be one step closer to figuring this out,
The handwriting matched that of the note in the locket, without a doubt.
I put the note away and continued on,
I noticed the sun starting to rise as it was almost dawn.
And As I walked away from the building I felt something beneath my foot,
I looked underneath and there was nothing there but a lighter.
Suddenly all of my memories rushed back to me,
I couldn't get a grip on this, everything as far as I could see
Was on fire, and it was burning hotter than the fury of hell.
I walked back into the prison only to let the flames engulf my being,
It was the only escape that I was seeing.
 Sep 2015 Wanderer
JDK
Alchemy
 Sep 2015 Wanderer
JDK
Traced in trails of scented dreams;
The vapors of eternity.

Condense into a thicker form,
and pour your warmth all over me.
Diving through liquid sunsets -
We'll melt in pools of love.
Flowing towards the horizon,
forever.

Crammed inside the tightest space,
two atoms come together,
to make something completely new:
Fantastic Holy Molecule!

Mash our masses.
Break us down.
Grind us into the finest powder.
Bound to the other by an unstoppable force;
transformed by its power.
The sweet reminiscences of a miracle
Like an echo's last breath, so spiritual
So close, yet so far
Always keep your mind ajar
Miracles won't manifest in your palace
Miracles can only help the callous

False hearts of stone reach for greater heights
When it takes flesh and bone to taste its delight
All the wrong friends
With all the wrong foes
Transfixes the mind on the black rose
Away from the light, dwelling deep in the dark
Is a mind too early to expect a spark
So close, yet so far
Always keep your mind ajar
Miracles won't manifest in your palace
Miracles can only help the callous*


-Joseph B Schneider
© Joseph B Schneider. All rights reserved
You enter
      Riding on a soundtrack of rising blood pressure and self defeat
       Every conversation kills itself at the sight of you;
     A *joke
not quite worth telling, that no one would laugh at anyway
          Every eye stops to stare at you
        *An aging car crash of a human

Wrecked and painted in dried blood
     Seducing onlookers with a rinky-**** smile
     Missing the convenient yellow caution tape that tells you life stops here
          
       You complain to fill the spaces left by your depleting self worth
  That wasn't much there in the first place
In the mirror you see dirt
    And you can't wash it away
, no matter how hard you try
Cause you're ****** in all the wrong ways
Up until you die


     Unintelligently designed
Your stupidity is almost genius
       You blame others for mishaps that you have gained
                            Your sickness a silent auction
                       Anyone could have caught it
       Infectious Anonymous
Attended every week
      And yet you're still so pathetic
you don't accept you're a disease worse than any flare up that could take hold
        You don't know how to recognize the facts that you've been told

       You complain to fill the spaces left by your depleting self worth
  That wasn't much there in the first place
In the mirror you see dirt
    And you can't wash it away
, no matter how hard you try
*Cause you're ****** in all the wrong ways
Up until you die
Restinpiss
 Sep 2015 Wanderer
SG Holter
Dry your eyes,
Little girl.
Don't let them in.
They're only words.

There, now. There.
It's just a tear.
A raindrop from your  
Atmosphere.

I promise you
Clear skies again.
Brush off your knees.
Arise again.

Dry your eyes,
My little friend.
More things begin
Where others end.

So stand and shine
Despite their words.
They envy you.
Of course it hurts.
 Sep 2015 Wanderer
SG Holter
Flower eyes.
Cloudless smile.
Hair like a slow motion
Waterfall

Waving through air
Towards the center of
My breathlessness.
Flower eyes,

Ears made for music.
Skin; fresh snow upon warm
Sand crying beads of
Sweat from dancing.

Breath, a breeze that carries the
Scent of Eden's flora.
I open my eyes still dreaming,
Feeling fingers on my face,

Tasting nectar lips and the
Love of an angel having
Fallen for it.
Wingless thing,

Trading Heavens for our touch.
Unto nothing less than your
Flaming feather heart would I
Surrender.

Flower eyes. Petal tears.
Dream me back from this world
Of sharp edges and jagged realities.
Meet me there,

Where no rough imitation of
Our union could take root.  
I will rest within you.
Kiss your flower eyes uncrying.
 Sep 2015 Wanderer
SG Holter
Walking the gravel roads that my
Ancestors walked before me,
I feel the ghosts of their struggles
Beneath my feet.

But also their voices; laughter,
Infant legs running towards fathers
With shouldered axes and saws and
Smelling of forestry.  

Weary, but not too weary to pick up
A child for an afternoon embrace.
The trees still sing the songs they sang
Them to sleep with;

Bellies full of barley or not at all.
Despair and hardship, yes.
But more. The land remembers
Their lullabies.
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