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 Dec 2014
The Anonymous Joker
I will rear my hand back
And let it fly

Across the space-time divisions
The empty spaces of our
Memories and hatred

Rear it back
And tear it all away
Rip into shreds the nights
We had nothing in our hearts
The nights when we
had it all


I will let it crash against the mirror
of your absence

and let out a choked breath

As I bring myself under control

Leash the emotions
Always bubbling the constant laughter

and happiness

And love

The multiple echoes ringing out
Splitting my hands with the
Shattering windows and mirrors

Staring into my eyes
Spell-bound
Seeing years pass by
Speaking to the faces that no longer
Stayed
Wished for a breath
Washed-out on this beach of regrets
Wandering around, clutching to
Words and smells of who we used to be
Whispers of the air

The sinew of my hand breaks
As it recites to me the long-lost saga
Of my race
It tells me its sins and hopes and regrets

and regrets

and  r  e  g  r  e  t  s

I dream on

Hollow-eyed
Sleep-deprived
Backed into the corner
of my nightmares
The scar above my eye
Needle-marks on my chin

Throbbing
Remembering

I hold up my hands
A raw meat hammer


And they reach nothing
Past the empty fjords and valleys
where you used to reside

I am left










here
I haven't even proof-read and I think I tried to do a strange rhyme/pattern thing in between
 Dec 2014
kylie formella
i bet your eyes would look
prettier
(if that were possible)
if they were looking up at me
while i was sitting on your face
and if you ever want in lemme know
 Dec 2014
SE Reimer
~

the stores here are crowded,
and everywhere i see
the signs of the season
selling Christmas to me;
the lights, sights and sounds,
flashing colors abound;
on every channel the music,
their ads and their movies.
on every corner selling trees,
their seasonal drinks
to quell the freeze.
we'd not know it’s Christmas
without them telling us so...
at least that's what it seems.
and even that word,
they've seemed to steal,
taking Christ out of Christmas
so their wares they can sell.
it's enough to lose my place
to choke on my song
the words stuck in my throat
it’s all gone so wrong.

so, their “X” i hoped to replace
and in my haste to remand
i made my demand,
“take the ’X’ off of Xmas,”
i shouted;
“put Christ back, in His place!”
but my kneee-**** reaction
mixed with failure to search then
made me blind to the facts
so instead i besmirched them.

then a truth i discovered,
just yesterday,
and now that i know,
i'm embracing the "X"
as should every good Christian.
for it was the "X"
those Greeks knew best;
it carried the "chi",
putting the ”X” there in Christ;
it went something like this- Χριστός.
and the marauding i’ve fought,
the hijacking i thought,
it was never taken;
it was never gone, at all,
it’s been there all along.
so i’ll admit i’ve been wrong.
for “X” marks the spot,
an intersection of sorts,
where the sacred meets the profane,
a collision of Able and Cain.
and just as Christ born to man
and new life He began,
with my faith now restored,
i can return to my song
and sing of Christmas,
the Christ child,
and Xmas
again!  

~


post script.
with inspiration from the following at Dictionary.com.:


Here’s a holiday surprise that only the dictionary can provide. Do you find the word “Xmas,” as an abbreviation for Christmas, offensive? Many people do.

You won’t find Xmas in church songbooks or even on many greeting cards. Xmas is popularly associated with a trend towards materialism, and sometimes the target of people who decry the emergence of general “holiday” observance instead of particular cultural and religious ritual.

But the history of the word “Xmas” is actually more respectable — and fascinating — than you might suspect. First of all, the abbreviation predates by centuries its use in gaudy advertisements. It was first used in the mid 1500s. X is the Greek letter “chi,” the initial letter in the word Χριστός. And here’s the kicker: Χριστός means “Christ.” X has been an acceptable representation of the word “Christ” for hundreds of years. This device is known as a Christogram. The mas in Xmas is the Old English word for “mass.”  (The thought-provoking etymology of “mass” can be found here.) In the same vein, the dignified terms Xpian and Xtian have been used in place of the word “Christian.”

*As lovers of the alphabet, we are transfixed by the flexibility of “X.” The same letter can represent the sacred and the profane (“rated X”).
 Dec 2014
Joe Cole
I can't write the words in the way that some of you can
do
I can only write the words that in my mind come into
view
I can't write words of devotion and never ending
love
The inspiration for my words comes from somewhere up
above
Yes, words about the sea and the gently rolling
hills
These are the words I know and love and sometimes get to
use
Words can be things of beauty but sometimes cruel and
harsh
Some words can tell of sadness while others make you
laugh
The words of fellow poets here cover every point of
view
My words are plain and simple but I share my words with
You
 Dec 2014
Jon Shierling
There are two rivers within my heart
one flowing toward the future
and one toward the past.

There are two worlds I live in
one of the everyday materiel mundane
and one of something I have no words for.

Did I not bathe in the sweet waters
of both rivers flowing?
Do I not live within both worlds,
paying bills and yet loving with all my soul?
 Dec 2014
stargirl
the feelings i have for you
are never ending.

i attempt time
after time
to put a definite stop to them,
but time after time,
they find a way out,
and my body is electrified,
yet again.

i could compare it
to being struck with
a million bolts
of lightning,
or being pricked
by a thousand
rose thorns,
but truthfully,
nothing compares
to you.

nothing compares
to the way you make me feel,
and nothing compares
to the sadness i feel
on the lonely nights
when im thinking of you,
and it's not requited.
 Dec 2014
SG Holter
In my eyes, an eye for another
Is fuel to the funeral pyre.
Yet my hands long to
Rip heart from chest;
The soul from the flesh,
And toss the rest on the fire.

Innocence, the least deserving
Victim. Cut, shot, burned alive.
Where is the real Heaven?
It sure as Hell hasn't pulled a
Trigger, or a blade
Across their lifelines, the
Little carriers of
The only actual holiness there is.

I have 132 child shaped
Holes in my heart.
How can I fill them with other than
Anger? Disbelief?

I don't care where you are from.
Your religion, philosophies.
There are no greater sins  
Than those against children.
No God, only demons and devils
Behind your hideous actions.
I want. To ****. You.
Does that make me 'no better'?

If so... I don't care.

The smallest coffins are
The heaviest.


May our shoulders hurt
For aeons.
 Dec 2014
Phosphorimental
I followed a writer up a tall tree
And every leaf was his poem.

Once at the top I could look out
Over a sprawling poetic landscape –
A resplendent chorus of
Glistening verdant wisdom,
O’ vast quivering sibilance of
Melpomene and Thalia!

And there I remained

Until a long winter wind came
And undressed each tree!
So from my perch,
through gaunt branches,
I could see…
The low-slung place
where each poem fell

I thought, “so many writers,
clothed in so much comedy
and tragedy.”

And down I climbed
and away I walked
Over resting leaves
while red and rust
ran from their veins
Into the rich palette
of my memories

O’ even now
The sweet scent of decay
Reminds me of Spring
when I will climb again.
 Dec 2014
Samantha
There is something inside
Don't know if it's right
But do enjoy the ride
I can tell you, it glows at night.


(samber)
 Dec 2014
Amitav Radiance
When you are in the chasm
And the words are hollow
Only, wrapped in rhetoric
Even the echoes become inaudible
How do you express?
The irrepressible agony
Shattering the soul
From the stones hurled at you
On the verge of crumbling
And shattering into many pieces
Holding onto the jagged edges
And hiding in some crevices
Finally, into the oblivion
Swept away by the wind of apathy
Deep into the chasm
Engulfed by the darkness
 Dec 2014
PrttyBrd
Gilded cage so small and tiny
Even singing comes out whiny
Stinking of fake fresh and piney
Tis the season
Leaking water warm and briny
With good reason

Christmas cheer and glasses toast
Loved ones smile and laugh and boast
I sit perched upon my post
A tinsled column
Invisible reluctant host
A heart that's solemn

A longing for a love so distant
The melancholy is persistent
A smile could erase it in an instant
On a face cherubic
For my heart is not resistent
It's theraputic

So that smile that is perfection
Is mirrored in my own reflection
Without a thought about rejection
Hallucinations
About the subtlest inflection
In Salutations

Surrounded by the merrily intense
With drunkard tendencies immense
A bar with all accoutrements
They pound tequila
Drinking away the sacraments
Oh yes, I feel ya

Merry time with old Kris Kringle
Guests all lubed enough to mingle
Mistletoe hangs and sleigh bells jingle
Gifts homemade
Tables adourned and glasses tingle
Gold brocade

Still I sit all caged and flightless
Blind to joy all sad and sightless
Drink could make it hurt a mite less
I'm going backward
Laying here all limp and lifeless
Broke and fractured

Surrounded by the fake and vexing
Artificial and quite perplexing
Reality they are rejecting
The devil may care
Bellies bare and muscles flexing
Lost underwear

So ******* dancing to the jukebox
Lost alone here in the boondocks
There is no snow upon the rooftops
Ahead they forge
Find a room before that thing pops
It's so engorged

Neighbor ***** all dressed in orange
Wearing gold to make the poor cringe
Stripping time to fill her syringe
I'll be her hinderance
Still too drunk from her last binge
Faulty remembrance

Ridding riff raff from the party
People still drunk on Bacardi
Noxious gasses burp and farty
With toilets makeshift
Worn out makeup on the smarty
She needs a facelift

Time to let the people go
Too tired to keep watching the show
Drinking hard and walking slow
Verbose yet listless
Honey I don't want to know
It's not my business
121614
not the easiest thing to write, but I do so love a challenge
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