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 Feb 2015
Richard Riddle
HR Mgr:  So, Amber, you're applying for the file clerk position?
App: "Yea."(Keeps brushing her hair off of her right eyebrow)
HR: "You didn't fill in the space for your last name. Does Amber
         have a last name?"
App: "Yea."(giggle). "Dexterous."
HR: "Amber Dexterous, interesting." and you say your former job
         was "entertainment dancing."  
App: "Yea."(Brush-brush!)
HR: "Poetry in motion, I'm sure." "Amber, are you a stripper?"
App: "I'm not a "Strip-AH! I'm a Dan-SAH!"
HR: "Okay, okay! So, do you use poles in your dance routines?"
App: "Nooooo, I don't do thaaa't. But, I do like the Canadians!"


copyright: richard riddle February 14, 2015
I should apologize for the "wordplay", but I won't! This piece was written for entertainment purposes only, and any resemblance to real people, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
 Feb 2015
Sydney Ann
Ok.
So it's Valentines day.
I'm alone,
but I'm in love again.
                                    The chemicals in my brain are firing pleasure sensors
                                     or whatever that science **** says.
                                      It bothers me that I live a lie no matter what truth I embrace
but whatever

I'm in love with his smile
his laugh
how he and I know exactly what each other is thinking
telepathy is our ESP.
If he knew was me
he would know it was him
still is him
by the way

I'm in love with his poetry
his voice
Every new thing I learn
Is a starburst in my heart

I know I look like a stalker
the way I follow him
but seeing him is my sanity

I have to believe
he will love me one day
if I want to live
another day
 Feb 2015
Alice Morris
The warmth rises
I'm engulfed in flames
there is no pain
just the feeling of peace
an inner peace
at last I'm whole
I'm free, I've been released
to start living again
 Feb 2015
Caitlin
Happy Valentines Day,
To those who have Valentines,
And to those who don't.
To those married,
And those searching for love.
Those who love and fall apart,
And to those heart broken.
To those who'd rather  be single,
To those afraid to love.
Happy Valentines Day
 Feb 2015
Kristina
You tell me your lips taste like sadness
I bet your skin is like the universe
You're hiding galaxies in your eyes
And I swear I can see the stars when you smile
You shine on my life like the bright glowing sun
And you guide me through the night
Like a moon when the day is done
I wake up with your existance kissing my face
My fingertips wake up to find your body laying next to me
As I explore every inch of you
And thank god you came into my life
Because these days
Things haven't been okay
And you always end up making me smile
You always end up making my day
You are a petal that fell from Eden
When I feel like I've been beaten
You lift me up with your lips
Place your hands on my hips
And baby, I promise you
We can create a storm that will sink all ships.
 Feb 2015
the spicy dandelion
Here I am sitting,
When will Love come to knock on my door?

I've been in this room awhile,
my **** is getting sore.

I examine the stone floors and all the cracked paper walls.
It seems Love has forgotten about me here after all.

I've been here awhile,
I know this room front to back.

It's my comfort, my world, my straight driven track.
Even if Love were to knock on a Tuesday afternoon,

I don't know if I could let him into my room.
The floors aren't perfect I haven't shined in weeks,
the walls are made of plaster and the paint job's in streaks.
The molding is crooked and the floor makes some squeaks.
I have a bowl in the corner catching the ceiling leak.

I've been waiting for love for so very long
that when love comes knocking;

I'll want to leave.

And it's hard to believe
because I don't know what lies out of this space,
and his could be one that is not of my taste
what room will we make?

Love knows best..
 Feb 2015
Dark n Beautiful
Because I had loved you before I was thirteen
Because I had loved you throughout my teen
You stole my virginity: you deflowered me
Surely, I have composed and quieted my soul;
Now, I am like a baby about to be weaned

Because I have loved you so much
Because love can make us do and say crazy things.
Now it’s  impossible to love another.
Because I am the dark angel with heart shaped wings
 Feb 2015
Terry O'Leary
The Rulers wield their silver shields,
             wear golden coronets
while warders guard the prison yard,
             boast brazen bayonets
and unicorns flaunt ivory horns
             defending martinets.

While Bankers beam Their self-esteem
             (bailed out of broker's debts),
and Bureaucrats grow rich and fat
             in six-star luncheonettes,
the deep, devout and down and out
             survive as silhouettes.

The Press take pains to wash our brains,
             Their words have mesmerized.
So, mild and meek, we fear to speak
             in worlds They’ve polarized,
and rush to war, through Satan's door,
             watch cities vaporized.

The Lord of Lore tells tales of war,
             of victories far away,
where eyes stare stark within the dark
             and death is painted gray
on faces cold, some young, some old,
             in spectral disarray.

We're taught at school the Golden Rule
             for all to live in bliss,
but in the wars on foreign shores
             the only rule is this:
“Yo! You and I must fight and die
             inside the black abyss!”

But well alive, the Merchants thrive
            on sales of armaments
that Barons built (with pride, not guilt)
            to quell the dissidents,
while Partisans are posing plans
             to conquer continents.

And back at home, the rumors roam
             “Good times are soon to come,
despite the breeze on frozen seas
             in weathers wet and numb.”
When we’re in need, They’ll intercede
             with prayers if we succumb.

A Tabloid screams of phantom dreams
             to keep our minds at sea
and TV skews the evening news,
             ensures we all agree:
“With dynamite we fight for right
             and not for tyranny.”

The brain aborts when drugged with sports
               and fashions of the day,
and sevenfold, men think as told
              and so are led astray;
and like some sheep (unless asleep)
             they baa when they obey.  

In search of sense in sounds intense
             of droning drum tattoos
(the beat sustains the endless reigns
             which swamp the avenues)
souls, thin and worn, traipse by, forlorn,
             delayed by shackled shoes.

Ten thousand eyes belong to Spies
            who watch us day and night
to track our trails and read our mails
             and say They have the right
to know our thoughts and thwart our plots
             to cease Their oversight.

Behind the scenes, behind the screens,
             the rules are fixed, arranged
(contorted smiles conceal Their wiles -
             Their goals have never changed).
When upside-down, a grin is frown
             and common sense deranged.

Along the roads, the future bodes
             in legends made of dust,
and ashes gray the alleyway
             'neath lampposts scaled with rust.
While Divas dine with cakes and wine
             pale orphans share a crust.

Dead colonies of humble bees,
             a ravaged hornets' hive,
rain forests, dales and minke whales
             soon nothing left alive…        
a world laid waste is to Their taste,
             as long as They survive.

As sunlight wanes in winter rains
             and sullen shadows crawl,
the evening ebbs, and spider's webs
             seem tattooed on the wall.
Upon the night the Masters write
             The Final Protocol.
 Feb 2015
K F
It got quiet real fast last night.
Not like usual where the people outside the walls screech until 2am when they finally stumble back to their respective beds.
It must've been too cold for screeching and wandering last night.
Because it got real quiet. Right around 12.

And it was the kind of quiet that makes you both tense and relaxed.
Afraid to move or you'll disturb it, but calm in the middle of it all because silence is rare.
In fact there's no such thing.
Everything makes noise,
When you roll over, the wind, the lone car that drove past, and your breathing.
Especially the breathing.
It's noisy in it's own quiet way just a vital in and out that keeps you alive.

Lungs like attention, they like to be heard.
Even when they're not shouting angry profanities, or cheers, or whispering I love yous...they make their gentle in-out whoosh. Reminding you that you're alive and that's
a splendid and spectacular notion
 Feb 2015
Olan Douglas Webb
Oh,  when I come
to the end of life
your name will be
the last word on my lips
for you are life to me
when I wake in the morning
you are the first thought
to pass through my mind
you are the one repeating thought
through the long day
all my thoughts and cares
are on you
I  care when you are unhappy
your sadness
hurts me to my core
you are always a song
sung by my heart
always my heart song
oh, how many thousand of times
would I have taken
you into my arms
and rocked you to sleep at night
kissed your lips
with a passion beyond passion
I see the Milky way
shimmering like diamonds
in the black velvet sky
but oh, they cannot surpass
the beauty of your soul.
The beauty of your face
puts those stars to eternal shame
oh, how I am taken by storm
enslaved by a beauty
greater than my fevered brain
could ever imagine.
Oh, I weep bitter tears
out of the bottom of my soul
out of your sweet memory
all turned bitter
because you are not
by my side.
Oh, river of bitter tears
wrung from a broken heart
and a tortured soul.
Oh, thoughts of you
follow me ever and ever
through my bitter tortured life
at night on my bed
how I toss and turn
the whole night through
and I am tortured
by nightmares of my loss of you.
Oh, scars on my tortured soul
wounds so deep.
Oh, how I long
for this bitter life to end.
Oh, I would cry unto the highest heaven
and weep a river of bitter tears
that would flow to the end
of eternity.
Oh, at the last beat of my heart
and the last breath I take
let the last word on my lips
be your name.
And let my broken
heart strings
and shattered soul
live no more.
for all meaning
vanished long age
when you slipped from my arms
and I become
but a walking dead man
and a rattling  of bones
my whole life through.
 Feb 2015
Rebecca Leven-Hill
They expect me to be as smart as Einstein

To have the body of an Olympic athlete

Show kindness to everyone even if they have hurt me

Deal with my own problems

To shut the hell up when I curse

They say THEIR world doesn't revolve around me

But they don't understand that right now MY world revolves around them
 Feb 2015
Andy Cave
The bags of his eyes begin to fill
begin to weigh down his entire being.
He shudders, lips trembling
as the dam breaks and the tears fall.
He screams but nobody hears
his pain, his agony.
His body lies useless
as an emotional barrage
begins ripping him apart.
What could he have done
to help if anything?
His body trembles as sleep
takes him away
to the only place
he'll see her again.
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