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 Feb 2015
ryn
.
•...mouth
wide  op-
en, glis-
tening...
in the li-
ght•aw-
aiting to
swallow
this lone
piece of parch-
ment•on it i've scribbled
all my heart could write•bea-
ring sweet nothings, sure and si-
lent•now... take this scroll•down
your neck... it'll effortlessly slide...
•to the core of your very soul•my
message would  follow your gui-
de•your opening i'd then gladly
seal •so your contents would...
remain guarded • time is now
to set adrift all i feel...•....now
ride the waves through jour-
ney uncharted•let the curr-
ents take you• let the tides
and winds be your friends
• ...  my quiet well wishes
would see you through •
in hopes that you would
be received by my love's
deserving... and...  open



*hands•
 Feb 2015
The Jolteon
On Valentine's day so it happened
Their lips for the first time did meet
Wrapped in his arms they slept
The next morning a goodbye to the cheek
So began a rocky path
But a path to go down nonetheless
Both suspicious of the other
For others they did undress
To her a close friend
That they did both share
To him a close lover
Someone already there
So a battle was fought
In silence of the heart
One of jealousy and contempt
And unadulterated thoughts
That battle became
The wickedest of affairs
A contract signed in blood
A relationship of errors
 Feb 2015
Riot
you're words are soft
but cut so deep
they drive a hole into my cheek
your tears are cold
but storms unfold
as we **** ourselves for silver and gold
money falls
burning right through our fragile walls
people on the street fighting for pennys

and we're walking on

singing all about our troubles
in our bubbles
making it rain
but i'm still from the hood in my brain
buying clothes for fun
got 99 problems but a dollar ain't one

walking down the street while angels digging through the trash
hoping for the day they're "free at last free at last"

we **** ourselves
for diamonds
hoping nobody can find them
running marathons for paper chains
drilling it into our brains we need it
the better life
while our souls burn in bank accounts and my dear wife
doesnt believe
money is the root of everything
so she left me
with my family
but i still got my maid
having money troubles
isn't "not having enough"
it's not having it to blame
 Feb 2015
Joe Cole
Yes 60 years ago I did believe
About fairies and mermaids
Elven fires burning bright
Well yes I do still choose to believe
Well why do we adults choose the path
I lose myself in the works of Stevenson
In the the works of Kipling
Masters of there art
But hopefully I bring that art
Into a new world
My world
 Feb 2015
Ember Evanescent
The venom in your snake bite glare ties my pain in knots, Knots

don’t come undone

Every time you yell I smell smoke

You’re burning us, you know

You’re burning us.

And I’m drowning in the fire.

You’ve got your magnifying glass in hand like a detective,

And I know you’re searching for something better

I know you’re searching for clues that we could make it better,
between us

But you always look in the same place, you always look through these
piles and stacks of Anger that we’ve been collecting and you haven’t
looked anywhere else, you know, no matter how magnified that
Anger is, it won’t change what it is.

You’ve been standing in that same spot searching for too long, and that
magnifying glass is burning us

And it’s not that I don’t still think you’re made of stars, because I do

I still do

I still need you, mom

I need you to breathe,

I do.

You’re my oxygen, you always have been but

This Oxygen is suffocating me.

Do you remember that story I told you so many times? About that day
in kindergarten when the craft table got new materials? When there
was nice

Purple

Shiny heart shaped box and I wanted it

So did everyone else, but I got to it first

So it was mine

I had it in my hands

I had it

But then the other little girl spent all morning talking to me about how
she wanted it

She wanted the pretty, shiny, heart-shaped chocolate box so that she
could make a pretty gift for her mommy and I didn’t want to give it
up, but I finally gave in to the guilt and gave up that box to her

Do you know why?

Because I thought about how I had the best mommy in the whole wide
world and I wanted to give that pretty box to you because I loved you
so much and I thought maybe that little girl loved her mommy the
same way I loved you, and I understood why she would want to give
her mommy a pretty thing and to this day, that time in kindergarten
when I gave up my pretty box that I wanted to give to you is one of my
deepest regrets, because I loved you so much and I wanted to give you
that pretty gift.

I still do, you know

I still see you as the duct tape to fix what I broke and the hands that tie
the back of my dress in a bow for me on Easter Sunday, sure I still see
you as the lullaby I fall asleep to because I used to replay that
recording of your choir solo you downloaded on my very first IPod for
me every night before I went to bed one year when I was in elementary
so that in case I died before I woke up, the last voice I ever heard
would have been yours. Or in case you died at least I heard your voice
last. I always romanticized death back then, but now I can see how icy
the frosty fingers of death really are when the death of our old bond is
staring me right in the face, Mom!

Do you remember that one month I spent making absolute sure the last
thing I said to you before you shut my door and left after saying
goodnight was: I love you so that the last thing I ever said to you
was “I love you”? Same logic, mom. In case you died before the next
time I saw you, at least that was the last thing I ever said to you I never
wanted you to forget, and yes mom, I still see you as the stiches in my
torn up nylons but I don’t see you as my blanket on a cold day,
anymore.

I can trust you to save me, I can trust you to love me overall, in the end

But I can’t trust you to comfort me and you tell me to call you when
I’m sad, but you wouldn’t get it.

I can give you ten reasons why you and I need you to stop chasing me
into pain’s open arms and all ten are on my hands, balled up in fists
that are bruised from fighting, I’m done fighting with you mom, I can’t
anymore.

I’m too tired.

You start every knitting project and never finish it before you start a
new one, and I don’t want to become just another unfinished project of
yours, the daughter who left home and never sent more than 10 emails,
one for each finger after that because it’s not that I don’t love you, it’s
just that we’re growing so distant now that when we fight, the “I love
you” is no longer implied and when you get angry, you’re scary

You call me worthless, you swear at me, you say some awful things
mom, and so do I, I know,

But then you demand in irritation why I consider myself worthless as
if I’m seeking attention or something when I admit to you how
worthless I feel, well if you would quit calling me useless and
worthless and I quote “The stupidest human being alive” maybe I
WOULDN’T FEEL LIKE THAT MOM!

Maybe your mom, who is supposed to be the over-sized, comfy hoodie
you can come home to when life is getting too complicated is
constricting you with her harmful words it’s hard to find any good in
myself anymore maybe I’m just really hurt that you would say that to
me.

My sisters came along and they STOLE you, I’m sorry if that sounds
like a selfish, angry six year old but I need to say it because I don’t care
how unbiased you think you are, you never show me the underlying
kindness you show them because mom, I don’t want money every time
we go to the movies, I don’t want two pairs of Lululemon leggings or
expensive boots I just want the Love I feel like you’ve lost for me when
you didn’t have enough to give to all three of your children I just want
you to Love me, mom. I’m scared that you don’t anymore, and God it
would be so much easier if I could hate you but I can’t bring myself to.
I wish I could say I hate you, but I don’t. Every time I cross the line and
scream something unforgivable at you, when you cry, I can hear every
teardrop that falls from your eyes crash to the floor and shatter, but I
feel like you can’t hear me even when I’m screaming, even when liquid
pain is pouring down my face mom I love you, but you can’t hear my
tears and I feel like you’ve lost the Love you used to have for me.

I wish you would come back to me, I wish you would spend just ONE
night without insulting me, or yelling at me because I’m not
exaggerating when I say you haven’t.

Mom, I’m asking you to help me fix this.

We are not going to find the answer to the Cold between us in this pile
of angry, so please lower your voice and lower your magnifying glass,
just stop burning us and help me rebuild our old bond, okay?

The venom in your snake bite glare ties my pain in knots, but knots

Can come undone

Untie this pain with me?
just a really bad relationship with my mom, and I kind of broke down crying listening to spoken word poetry that relates to having a ****** bond with your mom and I felt I needed to express it somehow. I know it's ******, I'm sorry. Anyway, yeah this is a spoken word piece that will probably end up in the trash.
 Feb 2015
Ben Jones
Finding something on the road
And serving it for dinner
Buying dresses far too small
And thinking you look thinner
Solar powered submarines
Broken ribs or ruptured spleens
Driving cars and drinking beers
Lightbulb licking, bad ideas

Knowing where you shouldn't be
And being there despite
Going out in thunderstorms
To fly your iron kite
Sharing needles with a shark
Going to Mansfield after dark
Setting fire to someone's ears
Telemarketing, bad ideas

Not deploying gaffer-tape
When doing D.I.Y.
Believing the implausible
While branding truth a lie
Replying to Nigerian Princes
**** bleach and ******* rinses
Tabloid papers touting fears
Voting UKIP, bad ideas

Impersonating ******
Before nineteen forty-five
Catching a train on Sunday
And assuming you'll arrive
Turning lights on with your nose
Eating food that moves or glows
Listening to Britney Spears
Marmite Pringles, bad ideas

**
 Feb 2015
ryn
People cheat,
people lie

To get ahead
or
just to get by.

They do it out of deemed necessity
or
have made it a successful habit.

Some would feel bad,
but
some wouldn't lose sleep over it.

Some lie to protect...
Some lie to infect...

With little remorse
or
full blown guilt.

Either way
risking
all they've built.

A lie is an accessory
that most tend to abuse.
A convenient mask
for the ugly truth
that most would misuse.

Lies are...
The bane of relationships
Destroyer of trust...
Conveyed by irresponsible lips.

So have I ever lied?
Have I ever desecrated
honesty's pride?
Have I ever wielded it
to save others from harm?
Have I ever employed it
to boost my charm?

No I haven't,
now that's a lie...
Spouted that so easily,
I didn't even need to try...

Honestly,
YES I HAVE.
I am no exception...

I am no saint,
I'm only human
...
with an ill sense of direction.



I have lied...
How about you?

Search deep inside...
*You know you have too...
 Feb 2015
the blonde poet
Making up stories, until to us they are the truth.
 Feb 2015
Julie Butler
I'm having beer for breakfast
& you're nowhere around
freed a completed checklist
of my spine spiraling down
I'm queen
I'll eat you legless
your knuckles form my crown
through your deep breathing down
your knees become my necklace
and I'm pushing through your sounds  
it's the bed that's shaking now
but you feel it in the ground
your sweat has met the sheets
and through your bones
I feel you now
between our breaths
we're chest to chest
I fumble through your brown
with every strand tied in my hand
and both your lips against my mouth
 Feb 2015
Not Rick
The sun blazes down on me
I crave it more than ever
How will I ever satisfy myself
I see the wieners, spinning right in front of me
I ponder if I should even bother
The price may be too great
Can my mouth handle something that long?
It starts to moisten
I give in and reach in my pocket for $1.50
The hot dog is mine
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