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 Oct 2017
Feggyr Citack
-on explanations in the bathroom

Here I am, with all my crap,
a stupid looser,
swept beside, off the map.

And you tell me I should behave...
I am no *****,
it's just, you know, I am a ****** slave.

It's alcohol, it's coke;
it's pride, it's shame, it's greed;
you name it,
all that stuff that you don't need.

I'm glad you're perfect, nice and clean,
it's good to see you, though you're mean.
Myself, I'm different, to me that's clear:
I only watch myself from the rear.
 Oct 2017
Isabelle
They say that I deserve a love that comes back
   Like waves, both strong and calm
     it always return to where it belongs
     it’s first love, the shore
   Like raindrops that hits the ground
     that flows back to oceans
     then soon returns to sea of clouds
   Like the seasons that change
     from spring to summer, autumn to winter
     consistent yet seasonal

They say that I deserve a love that comes back
It’s beautiful, promising, but I don’t want it

I want a love that stays
Not the waves who leaves
Not the raindrops that evaporates
Not the flowers that withers
Not the one that falls
Not the sunny then rainy
Not the cold then warm

I want a love that stays
A kind of love that doesn’t go anywhere
A kind of love that lasts
A kind of love that we all deserve
Raw, first draft. Just need to write this down before the idea fades away. What about a love that comes back and stays? Sounds better? I don't know. Just another cheesy not cheesy 5minute poem because I am too tired to sleep.
 Oct 2017
beth fwoah dream
gentle bird of the wilderness,
summer shore of rust
and gold,

the sky with her swift clouds of mist,
her blue-greys,
and her stormy wings,
beyond beautiful.

with all the strength of my
heart, i open the stormy
door of your love,
i cry and cry to find you,

a rough wind that blows with
your storm, aches and
gives way,

your ghosts the quietest
of stars.
 Oct 2017
WendyStarry Eyes
SEASON CHANGE
Cloudy above us
With the sun shining through
Rising rainbow beams
Commencement of harvest
In the morning dew
Temperature transition
Leaves bidding farewell
To their trees
Their color goes
Copper flows
Traveling in the wind
Blowing to the ground
At nature's ease
Season'  change
 Oct 2017
Denel Kessler
**** the witch
hogtied to this
thin-skinned wagon
packed with privilege
call me wicked
if it makes it easier
view my plight
as one of my own making
I should have done
as I was told

Brand me traitor
as dust obscures
this timeworn scene
I know what it means
to be a whole divided
drawn and quartered
dragged to all four corners
left for buzzards
along the walled
deserted borders

scattered limbs
seeking unity
I reach for what’s mine
only to find
healing hands
too tightly praying
too busy manufacturing
high ground
in this time
of righteousness


Label me other
as I diverge
light the skies
with fireworks red
belt patriot songs
I will not mouth
empty words
to an anthem
I no longer
believe in
As an American, I can't begin to express how sorry I am.  Hang in there with us, this has to be a passing thing...
<3
 Oct 2017
bex
It smells like loneliness outside.
The smell of a hot dog on a grill after a storm,
mingled with propane and cigarettes.
The smell of solitary.

A string of “cold and broken hallelujahs”
no longer dulls the senses.
It’s senseless anyway.

I eat my brown rice in front of the sink
and I am reminded of the taste of Play-Doh.
It’s funny how loneliness creeps in on the wind,
the cars’ wheels in the rain,
the braking of the bus,
scuttling of squirrels...

Maybe a hot tea or toddy
(maybe something stronger)
will keep this autumn-ness at bay.
 Oct 2017
CK Baker
A slow walk up Centennial
and I still can’t find the place
it's menacing cold, and muted
and the street sweeper and winter breeze
move the Turkish blend and dust pack

A novice mixed duet plays
Brahms on broken strings
the erhu and overcoat
veiling a blue heeler and sphinx

Maggianos is settled in the center block’s
luminance and seasonal drape
it's festive warmth bringing home Bedford Falls;
the flavour and character and social circles

Annie’s playing and the keeper's singing
(his word pool and slander
raising everyone in arms!)
the crowd chants and mayhem breaks
as crawlers and contemporaries
smash their steins

Dark alleys and dripping holes
hold a grim reminder of the pierced underside
paddies flutter and forge their words
with a broad manifesto

Night gardens come alive
(slowly sapping the respite)
hunched figures and ladies in lace
shuffle inside the big orange door
 Oct 2017
Valsa George
I don’t remember when I lost my tenderness
And hardened into a thick shelled adult
No more innocent, no more gullible
Like a snake, I have peeled away my old self
It was easy enough, but having shed it
I realize no spring can bring it back!

There was a time when my imagination
Was so fiercely fuelled by fairy tales

How I used to visit the magic realms
Traversing the path from wonder to wonder!
On fancy’s feathered wings, I flew
Dwelling with fairies, demons and vampires
Roaming through the gilded hallways of magic castles
Peering into wishing wells
Wandering into enchanted forests

I searched under pillows for tooth fairies
Lay awake in bed to hear a tap on the door
With the ringing plea, falling in my ears
‘Open the door, my princess dear
Open the door to thy true lover here’
Wondering if a slimy frog has leaped over to my bed

Many hours were lost in fearful suspense
Pondering if the hoodwinked Red Riding Hood
Would escape the claws of death in the woods

With bated breath I followed the three Billy goats
On their way to the meadows beyond the bridge
Cursing the wicked troll that lived under it

Scrubbed old lamps hoping a genie would crop up
To bring things, my little heart cherished,
Looked up to see Aladdin on his magic carpet
Whizzing past the clouds,

Once I left my homework undone
Thinking those helpful elves would do it
While I snored away in the dead of the night

Now bereft of all such queer fancies
My brain has gone into lazy slumber
My world once checkered with colorful patterns
Now lies damp, dull and laden with strife!
One of my uncles staying abroad used to bring for us many English story books. I had the privilege of listening to fairy tales at a small age....
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