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 Jul 2015
Hanny Geraldine
Psychologists say
writing poetry help to heal broken heart
Therefore I write

I prove them wrong

Because the more I write
the more I am reminded of you
and it breaks my heart
into dust
 Jul 2015
Ariel Baptista
**** me quietly in the current of the Caspian
That calloused-caviar undertow
Petroleum-pierced fragmented bone
You whispered things no child should know
And I was no child then
Trembling hands I emerge from the lion’s den
Wearing memory like white lines on the insides of my wrists
Until I forget they’re there
Blue eyes, blonde hair
Painted mouth and vacant stare
Here is who I have become

So kiss me quietly in the white-capped waves of the Caspian
My lips a promise sealed in black oil and blood
Hear the water tank trickle fill and flood
See the volcanoes burst with sacred mud
And feel my skeptical smile
Spectacle-clad you read my file
It’s been a while since I relived all of this

And I’m deciding if it’s far too late or far too soon
To begin to deconstruct our interactions
The repulsion, the attraction
The actions and reactions
That defined that interim allotment of time
I sit here now retracing your lines
On the rickety map in the back of my mind
Memory, so mute, so blind
And ripping down the track so quickly
Thrown back so sickly-bitterly
Like salt-lime-tequila

My memory has been mutilated
Slaughtered, drained and skinned
Treated, chopped and trimmed
And now I place it on a table in the street
Tell me, can you hear the pattern of its late heartbeat
As you grip a fleshy dripping pound of it in your hand
My memories are no-man’s land

So caress me carefully in the cool-calm caves of the Caspian
Recall the strange sounds of the early days
Sacred grounds, hot-garbage haze
Sandy winds, the bazaar maze
That made me acutely aware of the incomplete
Not even joyful summer heat
Could keep me from floating feet-up in the Georgian river
Memory smile, convulse and shiver

I intended this to be a reconciliation
Call me queen of counterproductive apology
Let’s redefine astrology
To gain some favour from the stars
Russian salad and white box cars
Deep *** holes in Badamdar
Truthfully I’ve never known who you really are
And I probably never will

But cut me kindly in the clouds above the Caspian
This is as close as we can get
Ignorant prejudice my one regret
But I have not forgotten all the good
And I will try to love you like I should
But tell me, is it better to have memories that lie
Or have nothing at all?
Shall I embrace the distortions or the abyss?
**** me carefully or give me a kiss
Tell me, what am I to do with this?
Cut me open or caress me
Call me child or undress me
Your impassive smile does not impress me
Tell me, how am I to process this?

I’ve swam your sea, I’ve coughed your air
I let you stroke and steal my sandy hair
I left without once looking back
No pillar of salt
No pile of ash
No blame or fault
Or debt or cash
But still the walls begin to crack
I feel the stitches start to tear
Murky-memory drags me eastward by my fresh-grown hair
Forcing my eyes, so-cold and ever-blue ever deeper into you,
the dark heart of the Caspian
 Jul 2015
Ocean Blue
From my old Europe
To your West coast
With no expectation but still with hope,
For you, here is my weather forecast:
Sunshine every day
To chase your dark clouds
My sky smiling all the way,
Despite your mood and all odds.
Soon, strong wings to take me close to you,
Ocean Blue
To be found near Broadway.
 Jul 2015
L T Winter
My teeth keep-
          Falling out
                 When I speak

And they choke
On insomniac dreams
As I swallow them--

Finger nails-
Belittled by dearth
Took ephemeral essences

With tears they
Destroyed the meanings-
Of love,

To revel solely
Alone in a void
Crafting broken pieces.
 Jul 2015
Inked Papers
I hate the sea,
they remind me of you.
Like the waves, you keep coming back.
And leave again after washing upon the sand.


 Jul 2015
Rainey Birthwright
I had words and smiles for you,
Touch, like sparks into waters,
I had stories and poems for you,
Time, tender and dear as light,
I had dreams and hopes for us,
Precious, as salt in deep ocean,
Solid as spirit, love, devotions.

But words to you, just stories,
And smiles for you not poems,
Time was not precious nor dear,
Your eyes smiled no deeper then,
Your skin stretched silent a heart,
Gifts were not real things for you,
But they were all the world to me.
 Jul 2015
South-by-Southwest
I'll have regrets
the day I die
I'll have unanswered questions
that around me fly
I never went up to the moon
I never saw Napoleon's tomb
I never crossed the oceans deep
Nor stood on top of Himalaya's peak
I never thought we'd say goodbye
but time just slipped on by
And now I sit here feeling sad
wondering if life has me had

It doesn't matter anymore
The memories's weight
I can pull no more
I'll just lay down and die
and to this world I'll say goodbye
Then as I walk into the light
I will be full of fear and fright
But it will all be okay
Happens to us all on any given day
 Jul 2015
Jacob Christopher
I know I'm just a stranger,
shouting blindly to the dark.
But I will see this message sent,
it comes straight from the heart.
If suicide's consumed your mind,
the "only" option left to you.
Drop me just a couple lines,
what more have you to lose?
I've seen some malice in this world,
I've felt ridiculed and shunned.
I know how attractive it can be,
hell, I've even picked the gun.
So lend me just a moment,
in the least you'll know you're heard.
Maybe with a little luck,
I'll lend some clarity through word.
I do mean it.
 Jul 2015
ji
We hate good-byes, yet we say it too often. After a phone call. After a visit. When classes end. When we leave a restaurant. Perhaps these tiny good-byes are said too much to prepare us for the greater good-byes of the future.

But isn't it just strange how the things we hate are often what our mouths are full of? And with the same mouth we whisper the sincerest 'I love you's'.

We love. And the ones we love leave or the love we have leaves us as time passes by. Perhaps it is not good-byes we hate. Perhaps good-byes, themselves, aren't painful at all. 'Cause maybe it is the loving that we hate but we never truly admit it. 'Cause maybe all along we knew, with loving comes good-byes, and that idea is what's painful.
 Jul 2015
Sarah Spang
Everything brings back
Thoughts of the Sea
The Tumultuous Ocean
That whispered to me.

Reality is nothing
After all that has passed
Everything’s tainted
Stained and unchaste.

Hours are seconds
Time stopped the day
He breathed out his last
And faded away.

I’ve stopped writing stories
With sticks in the sand
And brushed them away
With slow grieving hands

The water is silent
Where it strokes the shore
Reaching for someone
Not here anymore.
 Jul 2015
bones
She leaves me
with secret flowers

each has
a broken heart

and purple petals
for me to hide

and memories
I can't ....
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