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 Jul 2016
axr
there is a storm inside you

destroying concrete buildings,unknown motels,and shacks

it won't stop raining

your ears won't stop ringing

the water is flooding castles and brick towers

the children are crying

water filling their lungs

their hands reach out for something

only to clutch the water

//

everyone's dead

you are now a nameless grave

if you looked up

you would see the lead sky

six feet underground,

motionless and without a sound

no one remembers you

no one remembers the storm

no one remembers the dead city

the children can be heard screaming

the rain hasn't stopped

glass buildings collapse to the ground

cities drown

all because

the storm inside you

was a little too loud.
 Jun 2016
Isabella Rossi
I should stop calling these thoughts
Dumb
I just really like you is all
And I'm afraid I'll **** things up
Like I always do
By telling you how I really feel
Or showing you every single thing
I've written about you
Cause that's how it's always been
Every romance ends with a poem
Instead of me
In their head
Or in their bed
 Jun 2016
Kwanele
I continue to breathe without you
It's a struggle.. it's painful because I was terrible at this even with you here with me.
It was somewhat bearable, 
but I can't do it.
" for what feels like months, but really is days " 
I don't know, I haven't tried to forget you
                               I have cried, a lot
                               More than A Lot 
That's all I do..
i try to breathe and I cry
 Apr 2016
Kurt Carman
Hard to believe it was 18 Years ago, 1998.
Waiting that long to make love is an unfortunate fate.

A July rain awakens the sleeping nymphs’,
Like old Rip Van Winkle, a yawn & stretch those limbs

Clawing their way out of an earthen cocoon,
Metamorphous begins by the light of the moon.

An electric buzz fills the West Virginia holler,
Charlie Cicada says “Connectin’ with them females is the problem”

And not long after… a loving relationship is bequeathed,
For the less fortunate, the brown trout waits beneath the Sycamore for a tasty treat.

Well there you have it; such is the life of the Brood Cicada,
And for new born nymphs’, it’s time to go sleep until the next Mania.

K.E. Carman 2016
 Apr 2016
PJ Poesy
Slurping accolades on Book of Faces,
****** poet **** romances himself.
Lubricating through superego Groups,
disorganization and breakdown of controls
chips him into corner. Bleak
moments of "Like" successes
are momentary arousals,
while blessings of truer constructive
criticisms become real get-offs. Spooging
on his own "Like"-abilities and
word-stock inventiveness he mops up
whatever approval he can.
Internet-tionalistic
becomes his coinphrase. He'll
Google-gunk it up in translation
to any language. So long as it buys him
some sensation. Forgive him,
for where else would he get it?
 Apr 2016
Healy Fallon
You are the rose with fake petals
You are the diamonds worth less than lipsticks

You are the Converse with untied laces
You are the Svedka mixed with tears

You are the jacket that was thrifted,
You are the star with a light switch

You are the angel with foam wings,
You are the unseen thorn in the garden

You are the cigarette smoke that drifts
You are the needles in the dear sewing kit

You are the duchess of comfortable silence
You are the countess of disclusion

You are the sweetest pill in the box,
but the most bitter drink in the afternoon
 Apr 2016
Eunice Moral
"I've missed your voice."
I've missed singing you a song
even if I am off-key
You indulge in my whims
and caprices
and loved me anyway
You kissed me under that stairwell
when I said something weird.
I loved how your palms
cupped my cheek
that nanosecond between
our first kiss
how your eyes danced
with bliss
reflecting mine

Now I watch you fall in love
with someone else
How could a heart like
mine ever be okay with that?
I watch you watch her
I watch you smile at her
I watch you adore her
I watch you as your
eyes danced
at the sight of her.
Has it been like that with me?
I hope someday you'll
watch me fall in love too.
 Mar 2016
Nick Strong
Today,
The grey pallor of death came calling
Not a gentle knock on the door
Or friendly tap on the window
It did not leave flowers on the sill
Or chocolates on the side table
But breezed through the hallway
Collecting a debt on a life long lived
Leaving shadows of memories
For the living to remember
 Mar 2016
Pauline Morris
Sitting in her empty room she took another long drink from the bottle of whisky
She knew drinking alone for her was quit risky
But she was far beyond caring, far beyond giving a ****
She thinks back on her life, she could see it was all a sham
No one looking in could see
Her life lay among the debris
Of what should of been but as time had showed would never be
Pure agony in diffrent degrees

She looks around her room in the closest hung her clothes
Most of them for work, thats the only place she goes
The stereo on a table
The music is her escape when she is able
In the corner the tv
She stares at but what's playing she rarely sees
Her big comfy bed with lots of pillows
Where alone she cries and bellows

Yes at a quick glance it all looks normal, but take a closer look
It's easy to see like all the stacks of books
On the walls nothing hangs
They are blank, there plain
No posters, not one pictures, no happy memories to look back on
Yes look close enough you can see something is all wrong

She's finally had enough liquid courage
To finally end all her troubles and worries
She goes to her closest reaches up on the top shelf
Takes down her revolver and clutches it to herself

With shaking hands she retrieves the bullets from the dresser drawer
Every inch of the barrel her fingers explore
She loads one bullet into the camber, clicks it back and spins it
She's going to let the Gods and fate decide if she is fit

She raises the cold unfeeling gun to her temple
Her hand is now steed not even a tremble
Very slowly she pulls the trigger
Stopping she didn't even consider

No one heard the boom
That resounded inside that lonely room
Over was all of her agonizing delirium
She didn't feel any pain as that bullet tore through her cranium
Her walls are no longer pitifully plain
They are now beautifully painted with her blood and her brain
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