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 Apr 2015
Ivy Swolf
You can taste
the psychosis on my
lips but there's no
guarantee that I will feel it.
There's an umbilical chord
holding me down to ***** reality
and depending on my
perspective
it either looks like a
dog leash or a
noose.

Inject a sedative with a rusty
needle at the end of my
nervous system. I'm immune; there's
misery mixed in with my
white blood cells that swallows
all sense of introspection. When my
soul plummets down like an anchor
and the floating stops
feeling safe, I welcome the chest
pains with open arms. The pins and
needles in my lungs are better
than burning them.

Look through my eyes
and sometimes nothing is real.
Live through my heart and
it hurts like hell when
I'm not drowning in air.
Think with my head and
either you will want to get out,
or it will kick you out.
x
 Apr 2015
Dr Zik
When I go in search of You
In the rain of my tears too.
                                  
During walking, talking so
I meet every friend or foe

No left any inn or cave
Each one prisoner and slave

So I am too weak to do
When I go in search of You

At last I find lovely sign
Like a bliss to soul refine

Transparent and sacred You
Reflecting in morning dew

I see you seconds a few
When I go in search of You
 Apr 2015
Mohammad Skati
Light showers wash all flowers' faces                                                                      Just to make fresher in the morning ...                                                                   All roses' faces smile just to give us                                                                        A pretty impression about that pretty Spring ...                                                    We come closer and closer to pick those pretty                                                     Flowers and wonderful roses to our loved ones ...                                                  Our loved-ones love those pretty flowers and                                                        Roses picked by us to them anytime ...                                                                 It's Spring that brings all together through its                                                      Pretty nature and through its Pretty images anytime,anywhere,and everywhere ...                                   _____________________
 Apr 2015
Jacob Christopher
The meek will not inherit ****,
that's a common misconception.
The miracles of Jesus Christ
were all subtle deceptions.
****, if you believe in fantasy
as thick as the resurrection,
you'd probably claim the earth was flat
if that's what society expected.
Your preacher was a mega-phone
for a money hungry despot.
Centuries have come and gone
when will you people get the message?
If he's real friends, God is dead,
or he built the planet and ******* left it.
 Apr 2015
Mike Essig
Mozart,
Shakespeare,
Picasso.

Auschwitz,
Hiroshima,
My Lai.

Two sides;
one culture.

"Everybody's shouting,
which side are you on?"


   mce
A nod to BD
 Apr 2015
Phil Lindsey
In a rundown house,
On the edge of town
Where the grass is overgrown
The door’s unlocked and open,
The windows all are broke.
It’s been exactly twenty years
Since the chimney last saw smoke.

People pass by without seeing it.
Because it sits back off the road.
But when I pass by, I begin to cry.
It has a story seldom told.

Two nineteen year olds
Once planned their life
In that old abandon house.
She would bring a blanket.
He would bring the wine
They would dream about their future
Plan how they’d spend their time
Traveling to Places
Before they settled down
To raise their perfect family
In a house at the edge of town.

She would spread the blanket
He would build a fire
And long before the wine was gone
They would give in to desire
Passionate and furious
Holding on too tight
As if the dreams they shared
Were slipping
Off into the night.
As if the plans they made were
Smoke
From the fire in the room
Rising out the chimney
Into the afternoon,
Blown away by breezes,
Hidden by the clouds.
Invisible like secret fears
Never voiced aloud.

Spring turned into summer
Winter followed fall -
They began to meet less frequently
Then they didn’t meet at all.
The fire and the passion gone
The room now cold and bare,
The house at the edge of town
Unused,
But still standing there.

The memories of our teenage love
Were strong – We thought that we should meet
Once again in the vacant house set back from the street.
We set a date, but I was late
I almost didn’t go.
I sensed we were pretending;
Trying to return
Passion to a fireplace
Where the fire would not burn.

Eventually I pushed the door
And walked into the room
The fireplace had embers
As if it had burned awhile,
A bottle mostly empty
Had been thrown against the wall.
The blanket laid out smoothly,
But that was not quite all.
I saw my former lover
On the blanket dead and cold
With a note scrolled out in cursive
“I guess I should have known”
“You’re not here.  The fire’s gone. I have no need to live.
I hope that you’ll be happy -
When you finally come around
To the place we shared our love and dreams,
The house at the edge of town."

That’s the tragic story
And the reason for my tears;
The house on the edge of town
Still stands, even after all these years.
PwL  4/11/15
 Apr 2015
Madeysin
Gather up the bags under your eyes,
Turn off the lights in your heart,
Lock up your soul,
Keep walking,
Maybe take a taxi away from your thoughts.
 Apr 2015
DaSH the Hopeful
Cut cut cutting* out the cardboard of my tongue
I can no longer taste your kiss as my body has gone numb
I have to block out thoughts of you so I don't lose my head
Chopped off at the root of me, my essence running red

Something stupid, clumsy and dark stumbles at my door
I told you to get out of here and not come back no more
But silly you you slit your throat and dont know how to sew
Looking in my window for answers, acting like I know

Choke me with a guitar string, this music will be the death of me
But it'll get me lots of ***, so I don't even sweat the heat
Time will stop ticking when the world has finally lost its rhythm
And I'll be sitting on an oil drum screaming out of tune at children

Old men die just to do it once and see if they survive
While im happy just popping pills to see if im alive
I can no longer taste your kiss as my body has gone numb
But I still feel my way around the barrel of my gun
 Apr 2015
Jonny Angel
Those big thinkers,
those brilliant strategists,
hiding behind institutions
they call freedom,
cannot possibly see
these long lines of people,
trained killers,
standing for post traumatic treatments,
some morsel of comfort,
not to be found
in fairytale endings
or inside four walls.
This is for real.
 Apr 2015
Carolin
The sky is dark.
And the clouds
are crying. But it's
ok for them to break
from time to time.
The rain is falling
washing their pain
away. And earth
feels cold again
today* ~
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