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 Jan 2015
SG Holter
Western coast of Norway.
Relentless fists of salt and sea
Pound against the windows
Facing the openness.

All edible remains after every
Meal, they surrender unto her here.
She feeds them back.
Her moods change daily,

Taking only one life
With every ten thousand she
Nourishes. *We love her. We fear her.
We love her.
 Nov 2014
Kelley A Vinal
river poets meandering
through stacks of golden hay
water rolling over jagged rocks
as night turns to day
pen to paper, written later
reeks of means to hesitate
ocean writers flicking lighters
humming through to meditate
when your chest is getting tighter
smoke through cigarette haze
 Oct 2014
let it go
 Oct 2014
SG Holter
The poems doesn't speak to you.
It sings, it whispers, it screams.

The poem isn't going anywhere.
It dances; glides or crawls.

The poem isn't written.
It is cried, bled or shivered onto

Paper. The poem doesn't care.
It's just there. Where it belongs.

It doesn't mind or like.
It loves, adores or despises from its

Soul. The poems isn't created.
It blesses the poet with its birth.
 Oct 2014
Brielle O'Brien
I have always wondered
If I died,
if you would have attended my funeral
But I never imagined I'd be going to yours
Dead at 19
 Oct 2014
looking down
at the grains of
encrusted upon
my tide washed feet

i pause to ponder

how much older,
and far better traveled
these tiny chips of calcified
life and mountain grit must be...

now i have been to
many places....
L.A. Paris, London,
Dunedin, Melbourne
Hong Kong, Mooloolaba
to name but a few...

but these little bits of
have lived lives
and lost,
have travelled
to and fro....
becoming ever...
smaller as they went....

shedding of themselves
to the greater entity.
one speck among......

taken beyond their lives
of solidity by swirling

only to end up as sand
upon my toes.
big thoughts for a friday night...
 Sep 2014
SG Holter
What happened?
Where did the year since
Last fall go?
Was it really a year ago?

I could write a trilogy
Of bricks on all
Its events. On
What was wasted,
Given, lost, paid.
What was earned or stolen.
What was spent.

I did good:
It all went.

A year so full of fire.
Of tragedy, drama, of
Laughter like thunder, love
Like lightning. Naked skin against
Ice crusted snow,
Naked skin against
Warmer, naked skin.

I remember
Screaming at the skies; my
Curses and whys,

Then resting my knees
On the same spot of
Forest floor, thanking
All gods for all things new,
And for all that I held before.

Nothing is ever lost.
Even loss is gain.
I wouldn't know the depth of
This bliss, if my life had
Been free from pain.
(I know it's a cliché.
But I'll use it again. And again.)

Hello, Birch Tree.
Nearly stripped, ready for snow.
Brother Pine Tree,
Still wearing your deep green
Porcupine Petals.
You both frame "Home" to me.

Autumn flu; fever like lava in
My veins and muscles.
I face away from the TV
-Towards the window facing north-
Fields and tree trunks
Sharing the same shade of
Crimson Oak. Periwinkle sky.

Rainbow like water and oil.

Let these be the last things
I see before I die.
They witnessed my victories,
Failures too,
But never me merely "try".

It all boils down to attitude.
Inhaling all that  
The winds may carry;
Exhaling mostly

Is brand new.

Every single

 Sep 2014
Ryan Jakes
I thunder down corridors
the wind in my hair
days spent staring at the ceiling
has made me a little crazy
So tonight I roll with my brother
taking corners sideways
howling with laughter
as we make our bid for freedom
and the sweet night air.
My brother in law "borrowed" a wheelchair and staged a breakout earlier. It was the best medicine :-)
 Aug 2014
Haley Lorish
what is not
may seem what is
an innocent thought
small things we miss

what we want is all we hear
ignorant masks to hide our faces
but don't be fooled again my dear
ugly things hide in beautiful places
 Aug 2014
SG Holter
I eat so much fruit
These days. I've become

I sometimes go outside just
To taste the fresh breeze. Summer
Is almost over;  

Soon there'll be a threat of
Snow on the air at night.
So swiftly they go, the winter-

Less months. I will wake up
In the dark. Ice crystals on my

Window. I can make a print
Of my palm in them every
Morning, then.

Taste pure winter. Taste
Her on my fingers. My coldest
 Aug 2014
The Messiah Complex
Look me in the eyes while you taste me
your head moving in shallow dips
I feel your tongue descending slowly
a prelude to your throat and lips

your eyes begin to water
your mouth now fully wet
breaths only come in gasps
as I delve in deeper yet

"That's a good girl"
"Show me what your mouth is for"
your lips curl in an obstructed half-smile, eyes pleading for air
but the sounds coming from your throat, say so much more

I grab your hair by the fistfull
firmly holding your head in place
I watch your face become  flushed-red
With each pump of hips and waist

You always look like you belong
below on bended knee
you blush then smile so innocently
As you swallow what's left of me

your eyes look to me for approval
I feel their lustful burn
my smile says "you've been a good girl
and soon, very soon, it'll be your turn"
 Jul 2014
SG Holter
There's something in his
Eyes. That construction worker
With more dirt on him
Than the ground.

I recognize you, I say
To the reflection in the
Excavator window.
You look like the guy she

Fell in love with.
Not the one
She left.

Perhaps I should change

Back into him again, or
Just not. Me: Yet another thing
That wasn't broken until
I started fixing it.
 Jul 2014
SG Holter
The break is long over.
I should be back in that

Hole, jackhammering my
Way around that broken

Pipe. But this butterfly
Landed upon the dust

And band-aids on my hand,
And neither of us

Wants to let
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