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Cindra Carr Jan 22
Like young gods walking into the arena
Raven among the serpents
Quetzalcoatl of feathers and scales
This isn't a pride
This is a pack
A generation
A coil
A nest
This den is made for power
A bed for the young to learn in the solitary world

Cindra Carr Jan 13
I’m sorry
I’m soft spoken in unknown crowds
And race in volumes when alone
The rushed strings of words still follow my thoughts
However strange they sound spoken aloud
Just listen
Just for a moment
My speaking follows a rhythm
There is a poem in the hurried mumbling
Tumbling and stumbling out.
I’ve lived with them for a while
We are both trapped
I use lost, nothingness, and billowing darkness
Because we are trapped there
Most lines are formed in in secret
Too many are formed in the darkest corners
Just relax, I know
But listen
Just for a bit
I stumble and race along
Each poem is me only exposed to more than me
The private thoughts leaked out to peak out
Are backed by fear of the open
The trembling hand and the shaky notes
Trip up the intention of any plans
I’m sorry
Please listen
Just for a bit

Cindra Carr Jan 13
There is desperation in youth
Each heartache and heartbreak crushing
In its overture of need
The petals of broken hearts litter the floors
In the wind of longing cries
Pieces are glued back on
Cries become sighs of what was then
Until the next time the heart is wrenched and wrung
Youth despair and keep going
Despite the thoughts of what it was

Cindra Carr Mar 2018
Sad little poems in a concrete room
Posters for groups from before
This poem is not shy
The words build to fill the space
Breaking out of that sad space
That place has no space for words
Words shouting whispering working
Hurting or flirting
The feelings that shatter the mind
Words that ******* with joy
These words are more than
Sad little poems in a concrete room

My first and only experience with an open mic, after moving to a new city, was in a back room of a book store. It was a concrete box and the open mic met after a twelve step group. We took turns saying our poems in a circle. The open mics I had been going to were in a private area of a motel. There was music and it felt more like freer space to share. It felt like closer to the idea of an open mic night. I was always terrified, but they were so nice.
Cindra Carr Mar 2018
Sweat slicked legs criss-crossed and cut
Set back to one side under
The table able to take flight right out
The door open freely seeing now
Hold tight to fight the urge
Run quick to freely seeing now
Out there gone and running
Rise up to run stumbling fumbling
Sweat slicked legs gone out freely seeing now
Run quick now back into the flow
Sweat slicked legs uncrossed and moving
Rise up to freely seeing now

Cindra Carr Jan 2014
My life leaned back into the predestined road
Of which, it was etched out in dips and bumps
Flourished in the curves and straight a ways it took me.
Perhaps I am the clueless one
Who is unsure how it all came to this point on the map of time.
Being told to think about my life goals or plans at this stage
Can be hard to fathom when each line seems to disconnect.
How do I plan for the rest of my life
When I’m not sure what plan got me here?

Cindra Carr Dec 2012
I lusted today.
It was that deep, down urge.
I stretched and moaned
Without even thinking.
It felt good to think it.
I wanted it hard enough
And got reprimanded for it.
That harsh ‘don’t do that’
Was spoken quickly in my ear.
I couldn’t help it.
I knew it’d feel good.
Inadvertent as the groan was,
It still felt good.
I knew he wanted it too.
He just couldn’t right then
And it made me want it even more.

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