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 Jun 2016
Justin G
Despite the heart which is froze
Hatred runs fluidly
Like the water in shattered glass
Like the blood in broken bones
Like the flames in our homes    
This hatred
It speaks to me
Like drugs to an addict

When it tells me to shoot
                                         I relapse and
                                       aim for the sky


I said..
In spite of my own humility
Hatred runs deeply
Like the roots beneath the dirt
Like the pain beyond the hurt
Like this poem before your eyes

I despise 
                Way too many lies
                And so little truth
 

I said..
I hate beautiful  
It cripples me deeply  
For you are my pity
My pain and their pleasure

When I am high
                           I'll collapse and fall
                        Far from this place
                        Of rotten bliss


I said..
Look at me        
Blood misrepresents me    
For I am cut differently
This pain isn't felt
Like the emptiness
Residing in your cup
It is felt
Like a toxic
Living inside the gut
Like these words
Traveling directly
Towards the stomach

I mean..
             Although this addiction kills me
           Hatred is also the remedy
          It is all I need to truly appreciate
          The little love I have left.
((Recovery))
 Jun 2016
gray rain
It's like an addiction
that keeps on recurring
once you've left
you just keep on returning
 Jun 2016
Jeff Stier
My father died
from a gun shot wound
to the head

self-inflicted

Don't get all weird about it.

Fathers die
and their passing
though certain
is rarely easy.

So what can I say of this man
so many years
after his emphatic end?

I can say what Whitman said
of Lincoln:
"O Captain, my Captain.
Rise up and hear the bells."

But he will not.

He was ever-present
wise and alert
a boxer in life
a fighter in every way.

And I grew up with the gloves on
quick
elusive
and thanks to him
successful in every ring.  

He died
******* on a lit tobacco stick

Emphysema was gonna
take him down
so he pulled his own trigger
saved his family that way
though that's a longer tale

Therefore
and whereas
this is a belated requiem
for a man I loved.
My Captain.
Dear and departed
these many years
may he rest in peace
as he never rested
in life.
 Jun 2016
Thomas P Owens Sr
the wind that howls in the deepest night
is a comforting sound
the dog that moans at the earliest light
is a soulmate found
I abhor the thought of wistful bliss
of nervous laughter unprovoked
I slip into my warm abyss
this sea of pain on which I choke
I wade in pools of sought despair
while others seek their mothers
I dance on floors of rotted wood
and sing to ghosts of lovers
I find it my salvation
to document this pain
to analyze the demons
and revel in the rain
perhaps one day I'll leave this place
and walk into the Sun
to face the light of happiness
content my deed is done
re-post
 Jun 2016
wordvango
It's officially the Apocalypse
Armageddon
*******
of religion

50 more lie dead
at one man's
hand

The purpose the  philosophy
behind
such an act
escapes me

The insaneness
madness
makes  me crazy
Help me
 Jun 2016
Stephen E Yocum
Night Vision
I see them still,
From time to time,
Their goofy smiles,
Their laughing eyes.
Still hear their *******,
Their growled complaints,
Their farts in the night,
from five bunks down.
The relentless joke telling,
The brotherly jabs.
Still see their sad empty eyes
When no mail from home arrived.

Oh and the lists of things
That they would do,
When back they'd go,
Into the World,
Added to daily, always growing.
"Get that new Camaro,
Set them tires on fire!",
"Cruise the strip back home
and pick up chicks."
"Put on my blue Class A,
And strut down the block for all to see."
"Find that foxy girl from English class,
and make her my wife".
"I'd tell my mean old man,
to actually *******!"
"I'd find that bully from back in school,
and teach that fool a thing or two."

We were but boys,
Too eager and green,
Posturing and playing at being men.
What I wonder, would they have become,
Given the chance to grow to a man?
Young lives cut short by ballistic pain.
So now still they linger, boys they remain,
Night visions left in the mud and the rain.
A Memorial Day repost of mine and respectful
salute to lost friends' in yet another needless war
that should never have been.
 Jun 2016
aar505n
Pretty things should be eternal
Instead of being rather ephemeral.
Roses whither away.
Buildings weather down.

Time will end love every time.
It reveals all and destroys all.
Nothing last forever.

Better a blissful weekend of love and nothing more -
Than to watch what you love -
Unravel, shatter and die.
Mere mortals thus miserable
 Jun 2016
Matheus Peleteiro
The implosion of myself
Saturday nights reading crime and
Punishment

The whispering moans issued the streets
no way out
Dumb cries arose from behind the walls of
the alleys
Don't justified
My literature
or even
The loneliness that
I feel in my chest.

All this
Just helps me to believe
That
Nothing matters
Until you
Reframe
The
Nothing.
 Jun 2016
David Ehrgott
Those people at the shore
and Coney Island
Tanning when they know it's bad
and that's not the worse part
They think they can swim and live
You can't go in that water
Fifty years now
without death splashing into your mouth
You can't even breathe the air
The air is melting the ice cap
That's Hot
The worms flow the faucet
filters work
live longer
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