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 Apr 2016
Emma
A fire was burning on the horizon
A bright yellow flame that faded upwards
Into an infinite many orange shades
And tinted the wistful clouds
A clear rosy kind of pink
As the earth turned slowly away from the sun
I walked back through the door
To see it run through my pen
At my desk in my dark room
The flames faded out in my mind
While they burned so brightly outside
 Apr 2016
Alex Kauble
I've found my want to live and God ****** it feels so good.
 Apr 2016
Jenni
Night isn't a void
It's possibility

It is the breath before a verse
The undisturbed lines on a sheet of loose leaf
A canvas still the shade of eggshells
Sleeping strings on an old guitar

Night isn't death
It's birth

A glance shared across a room
A tentative smile, a kiss, a touch
The first of many bitter drinks
Meant to wash away the mask of the Day

Night is freedom

You can’t read the rules without a light
And They can’t see you in the dark

Night is bass lines that keep your heart beating

Night is smoke

Night is gasoline and glitter

But above all
Night is the promise of escape
From the pretense of Day

When the sun is your stage light
And the world is your stage
 Mar 2016
L
Spacious galaxies  
Intense heat  
A flash of light in the dark corner of a distant world...
Dark matter
Glowing nebulae
Debris of time making something new and full of promise...

...Does it hurt when a new star is born?
Leigh
 Mar 2016
Homunculus
Enamored of the possible, and racing,
  Through a winding maze of endless choices,  
  Daunted by the obstacles we're facing, and 
  Dizzied by the clamor's many voices,

Shackled by a heavy chain of causes,
  Binding us to all we've ever known,
  The many paths before us give us pause, as
  We struggle to define which are our own,

Within a world that's not of our own making
    We anxiously await the day we'll find,
    A journey worthy of our undertaking, so
    That purpose in our lives may be defined, but
    
Perhaps our fate condemns us all to wander, and
       Our lives are merely mysteries to ponder
I think this is the first of a series of 5 Shakespearean sonnets based on Aristotle's rhetorical foundations. Telos means an "ultimate object or aim." This particular iteration also owes its driving force to Heidegger's notion of "thrownness" or the idea that we all inherit a ready made world from the history of our predecessors, and struggle against the way the facts which constitute that world condition what is possible for us to achieve within it. The other 4 will be Kairos, Logos, Ethos, and Pathos; and I will be working on and publishing them as they come to me. - Your Humble Servant
 Mar 2016
Joanna
Cracked
Kaleidoscope memories of you
Beautiful if turned one way, and muddled when turned another
But do I want to search for its beauty?
Do I want to search for you?

My fingers graze things you once held, searching for echoes of your finger tips,
My fingers graze my skin hoping to remember how you feel,

If I turn up the volume, will it give me comfort the way your voice used to?
The pause between words have me grasping on to the way I held your silence between my lips,

I remember your words and whispered promises as if they were etched onto my skin,
No longer a blank canvas,
My eternal mark of you,

Bring me closer, let me look you in those dubious eyes,
Let me bring my lips almost to a kiss and ask for another pretty lie.
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