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 Jul 2016
L T Winter
There was a man.

Lying face down,
In his ocean of rain-
A reclusion of self...


Sharp with shells
Piercing permeable
Sonnets--


Thistle to speech
Embedded paving's
Of lavender bunkers.

Exude this chalice
For my chandelier
Made tome-stone--


Cemeteries bequeath.
 Jun 2016
L T Winter
I've been licking sandpaper,
-Again scraping away
The disease.
I let you carry,

There were only icicle covered
Cannibals; bearing hearts of lead.

My anchor to it is gone--

I think-
I think.

-I killed it for fear,
And now I'm sugarcoating-
Poisons, giving cysts.

To lesser parts of me.
Help me--

I would ask the husk of my heart.
Unabletofeel.
 Jun 2016
GaryFairy
i've been living on the fly for a while
a dive from the sky for a sight of the vile
i tried to find out why they can cry with a smile
but they decide to lie and die in denial

they divide the ties and put eyes on trial
hiding behind a blinding pride with guile
buying is their guide to arriving in style
vying for the high life with titles they compile

and i have no way to get home

looks like i'm stuck in the muck and the muddle
out of luck where i was put just to hush in the struggle
cuffed to this crust is just enough to bust my bubble
another **** to fuss and cuss in the dust and rubble

https://soundcloud.com/gary-loftis/alien-report-3
originally title  "alien report 3", then i realized that i could't find alien report 3
 May 2016
Sjr1000
One thing
on my mind
Our midnight
kiss
Perfect bliss.
Stormy day , rising , pollen laced puddles
Obsidian , squally countryside backdrops -
with aromatic Wisteria infusions , humid , sunbeam fueled -
certain windstorm conclusions
Citywide , asphalt stained vehicles , rain engulfed curbside -
rivers at full pool , diesel fumes swallowing available air
at four-way intersections
Discarded paper , eastbound swayed hardwoods
Snapping flags cry out in brief , turbulent episodes
Evergreen needles at hours disposal
The mechanized voices of late afternoon
travel and corruption
Copyright May 9 , 2016 by Randolph L Wilson * All Rights Reserved
 May 2016
surpratik
this here
is a saga of a child
lonely and sad
seeking faith in the wild

born of fear
forbidden to love
but loves everything
he sees and touches

claps his hands
but didn't know it's war
growing up was hard
with peace no more

was told of fairy-tales
of an imperil utopia
then given guns
in place of arcadia

the boy remains
a boy no more
with ****** khakee shirts
and bones sore

shown a path to hate
and misery
but tears in his eyes
missing his family

prays to a god
who does not exist
grudges on leaders
and failed politics

finds his savior
in an stranger's bullets
they said it was the enemy
but it was just people
 May 2016
Jacob Christopher
The only thing
I have left.
Is the desperate hope
(an evil thing it is)
that long after I've departed
someone
somewhere
will read my words
and feel better for them.
I don't desire
to fix a soul
but I surely pray
maybe
just maybe
something I've said
will get you to tomorrow.
Insect soloist of enormous color brushstroke
the given day
Cobalt- silver windows laced with
mountains of billowing steam , coveys
of timid Quail spark an afternoon of vivid dreams
A whisper of hope to awaiting ear , the
saccharin flavor of love filling warm air
The living day of Wren , Sparrow and Chickadee
The very hour of Live Oak , Sugar Pine and Mulberry
Fertile , vivacious stream beds on course for Gulf waters
Rainbow infused land of Cherokee Fathers* ...
Copyright April 26 , 2016 by Randolph L Wilson * All Rights Reserved
 Apr 2016
r
Night,
I love you
like a bride
loving her body,
the madman
the desert,
like the horse
loves its shadow,
the sad the lighthearted,
I love you like
a wanderer his ballad,
a poet his dark room,
like the moon.
 Apr 2016
The Dedpoet
How long I have been in the dark....

A fate less holy,
A mission undefined,
Heart that cries,
Tears that bleed,
The abysmally charged traveller
That I have become walking
Until tendons fade away,
So my knees have scraped
The fugitive hope of the ravine.

        The space of loneliness
        Between these shoulders
        And the tunnelling that
        Devours the necessity to seek
        Out a hope,
        Something to fight for.

Saving grace within the dark,
Because dark is not dark
Without the light to show
Its depths,
its attachments to the misery,
This Earth, home of humanity
Trampled by the inner search,
The strength of hope is the light
Of the world.

Oh but the ravine does not falter,
Its crescent flow like a carving
Knife to cut away any luminous
Idea, the idea that cannot die,
And we are all formed in the light
As we leap into the abyss
In a battle for the sanctum of the soul.

     Where is the philosophy?
     The ideal that love can conquer
     Love, faith of the child
     In the blind advent?
     From the origins of water,
     Many drown in the depressing
     Motion of the blind lights that
     Surround them.

Hope is not sterile,
The idea cannot die,
Familiar to the dark,
Because we overcome,
The obliterated redemption
Is but the whole of the world
Saying you cannot.
Confronting the sea as a rock
To the crashing waves,
Bewildered by marches on the darkness,
Battered and bruised,
At the edge of death,
Purpose is here as we open the light
And reveal the eyes we always had.

     Deep, deep into the dark,
     We have been thrown as swift
     Grenades of light, the explosion sudden,
      The sight revealingly hopeful.

And God is watching the children
He made from dust to confront
Ourselves in a battle of reflection,
Every mirror needs the light
To see the truth of themselves,
Here the nocturnal night
Fights for every soul,
Dancing at the depression,
The sadness of menacingly
Prideful elitism.

    Sweat, these deep meanings,
    Who wants to think on them?
    Ignorance, blissful warrior
     Of the dark,
      Death to the fire inside
      That fashions the sleep or hope,
      The individual loses that which makes
     Them, and here in lies the ravine
     And its war.

Outcast, fighter of the dark,
Depressed warrior,
there is a form of light
In the confusing shadows,
Away from that voicelessness
That does speak,
Shed the ancestral burden,
Leaping from one horror
To the next horror,
Reveal that which is hope,
When you from before when God
Molded you as a form of light,
And though you may think
That you are just a flash,
Remember that every star twinkled
Its light before the last gasp.

Come out and reveal
The fire that yearns,
Feed the hope as a fire
That swells, a fire that burns.
You are the instruments of new
Beginnings, that which
Was rejected, that which was cast
Away like falling winds,
Winds that bkew you to another day,
We pass daily from the darkness,
As if from sleep,
We battle now in the void.

And though we are small
In the vast darkness,
We shine as cosmically gifted
Luminaries, shining as
Fragments in the night,
Eternal hope, a form of light.
 Apr 2016
CK Eternity
My God is the best God     my umbrella keeps rain
from touching my forehead, a stone they roll away

I take a drawing for a basket of airplanes, rainbows
over movie posters      a city that fell into the ocean

Pushing the envelope against the rain, I fake a letter
of trigonometry     declaring myself to be a dead body

A tattoo of a drum beating under a cloud      **** me
up with a conundrum, using double negative numbers

Probably a fake whirlpool, the natural condition of
radioactive material, a sound dripping out from a hole

I run open the door with a flag, they stole the border
back from the goverment, pretending to be Indians

I wish I was a moth, to find more comfort in lightbulbs.
 Apr 2016
Busbar Dancer
What happens when
a 400 year old
hillbilly vampire
from outer space
comes to Gig City
on April Fool's Day
with a guitar and
a bad attitude?

We will soon find out...
Unknown Hinson tonight at Revelry Room!
Me and Gomez will see you sunzabitches there!

Bring liquor and exclamation points!!
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