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 Mar 2013 Dawn
Ariel Leigh
Arctic raindrops hit the back porch glass,
Singing the sad tale of blue angels.
Queasiness fills her stomach,
As she breathes more smoke into her black lungs.

Her emerald jeweled lighter sparkled,
Reflected off of the single light bulb.
The savoriness of fruit satisfied her tongue,
More than a sip of whipped ***** could ever do.

The bathroom mirror still haunted her,
Only to proclaim the scars and bruises.
From inside and out,
She still debris as another victim to herself.
 Mar 2013 Dawn
Micheal Wolf
Bubbles
 Mar 2013 Dawn
Micheal Wolf
Ever watched the soapy bubbles blow in the wind
The excitement and laughter to a child it brings
Looks of delight as they chase and pop
Begging for more as you blow on the wand
A simple pleasure they won't forget
A childhood memory, one of it's best
 Mar 2013 Dawn
Michelle
My heart
 Mar 2013 Dawn
Michelle
beat
The sounds of the drum in my heart
beat
Exciting my senses, tingling everywhere
BEAT
As I see you from a distance
beat
The cool breeze ruffling through your hair


beat
Goes my heart as I sing to the sky
beat
Is the life I'm watching fly by
BEAT
Goes your heart as I dream it to be,
BEAT
Is the life where we could be free


Together.


beat
Is the whisper of the darkened days
beat
Is the pulse of the earth and sun's rays
beat
Is the song of my heart
BEAT
Is the way I soar past the stars, past buildings that scrape mountains or oceans of life, swirling in motions of deep harmony, rhythmically expressing who I want to be, up above, I only wish I knew.... How to start.


beat
I know that I should try
beat*
To stay away from you
beat
For now, it's best that I
beat
Should let you develop, but one last thing:

I

Love

You.

© 3/6/13
This is part of a song...
Title ideas? I came up with it, but my friends (whom I have told, that is...) love it and think it should turn into something.You should hear me sing it :)
 Mar 2013 Dawn
bambi
phoenix
 Mar 2013 Dawn
bambi
grasping
clutching
ribs expand
over
frenzied
beating hearts
forcing amber sparks
through burning veins
you've turned my will
to fire
with your touch

i see triumph
in your eyes
as beleaguered souls take flight
their flame-lapped talons bear
our husks of memories
away from this destruction.

feather kisses on fevered wrists
courage on coal-smudged cheeks
I turn to you and learn to fly—
escape these smoldering ruins
like fledglings born again

trust in newfound wings,
our scars and burns forgotten
smoke and flames still in your hands
so let me hold them, let me soar

live in the sky again
 Mar 2013 Dawn
Wedyan AlMadani
Free your soul
of the pride that
destroys your all
Free your mind
of lust, greed and gluttony
that haunts your
every doomed thought
Free your heart
of the wrath that
blinds your eyes
and sloth that
makes you lose your path
Free your eyes of envy
that eats you up like jealousy
It's not the future that's coming
It's the past that is running away
And this is my day.

"Would Sir like cash back"?
Flash back.
Pack it all away.
The supermarket comes to stay.

It wasn't always this way.
The present was the past that couldn't last
Tomorrow was a day,they say
That would surely come
But we had to run to find out for sure
The only cure for that
Was to stay 'flat pack' and not unfold.
Do as you're told.

The past was always there and willing to share
With you
The future view.
Obscured by the haze of all the days that ran between
The scenes we thought were there

A moment,a minute
The future,we're in it and it's gone
Joined the past.
Fast and furious but I am curious about the time.
Slow or fast it comes and goes
Throws cautions to one side
And all we do is try to hide away
Hang out for another day.
But it's not the future that's coming
It's the passing of time that is running away
Taking my night and my day
Leaving me bare.

Nothing seems fair
Perhaps that's the way.
Pack it all away
The supermarket in my day.
Cash back
Flash back
Another attack on my senses.
His name was not written in the heavens or the stars
But scratched out in the beer stains of a hundred bars or more
And in the sawdust on the floor
Where he often woke.

I spoke to Marlon once,or twice
Over a pint or two
The only way how Marlon knew
To converse.

I did not think him bad or worse than any other drunkard
I had come across
And Marlon,himself was at a loss to explain away
The drink that sunk him every day.

The beer that flowed instead of blood within his veins
Appeared to play games with his head.
Marlon blamed it all instead
On politics and the tricks they used to abuse this man
Whose only plan
Was to drink.

His friends were few and of those that knew him well
Knew he was heading straight to hell.
The day he fell
The day that it all came to an end
He was holding court with others of that sort down on the quay
With a free beer in his hand..too close to the open fire and
Whoosh..with a mighty roar
The fire caught hold and Marlon swore
But took time to take another drink,waste not want no more.
The fire engines tore up to the docks
Found a pair of striped singed socks and one burnt boot.

Poor Marlon turned to soot and ash
Rather rash to sit so near an open fire
While full of beer.

The cortege stretched for miles
And every man jack had a pack of crisps, a pint of beer
And drank a toast to Marlon Gere.
Farewell dear Marlon you were a hoot
Now you're just a bag of soot.
Goodbye dear friend
We'll send you the bill
But first of course
We'll drink our fill.
 Mar 2013 Dawn
vircapio gale
oh, sweet discovery--
an affirmation, iterate anew--

frissoning along the spinal ungulate
of waxing waning curve of time i spin

within that spiral, scapular
for sternum bloom in thinning breath
to thick, spread elongate
digitally ground
and see the phasing moons
as one, what, separated is in union once again
as what, in being one, unites united difference all again, again
--again repeated-- in my cells that newness thread
laddered spiecieswide, and more
alighted language coding
holograms in boon of sun--
golden futures past--

univocally found
by none, by all and only some,
and even only one
 Mar 2013 Dawn
Michelle E Alba
The one you make up lies about
If you happen to see.
I become the trash every Thursday
morning,
and the Playstation 3.
The dishes in the backyard, and
the registration to my car.
Suddenly I am Coco's sickness-
and food for your worms.
Your abandoned NASA mattress,
And these forgotten words.
 Mar 2013 Dawn
vircapio gale
i would compromise
--i compromise. i appear to i mean,
with peace-demeanor customized for show
paraded there and there, obeisant nonsense
in a confidence of meek to render compliments
crowding infancies of all

for the sake of art
i bend my frame about cliche
to have a human dragon claim
"the real persists unknown"
and gather at a sacred dolmen
fascinating morals sung beneath the stars and sun--
you said there was a butterfly
tasting at my skull, shaking with uncommon music too..
its skinny, immigrant feet abuzz
within the world they called a One, wings on pause, my eyebrows in flight.

a blanket iris cries warmth
in clusters hung ripe, filming over all
a native ceremonial, falsepolitik
i pluck at them atop a fence
obscure for comforts masking truth
discarded, found, fashioned
into furniture for candled houses
built with children's sons
where families try to see
a clearing in the warping
mirrors saddled with a dripping time no illustration comprehends
. wooden beams help it rise and dim,
the sunny lie, genuinely fake,
authentic trick of aeons hidden in the true
-- growing young, stemming back
to foil brighter undiscoveries for otherwisely
patient basements full of heirlooms,
sheik dining areas all
nodding over cheap wine we still manage to squint up at nothing at
in apple layers
symbolizing tidy crimes invented ceaselessly,
serving existential voids--
grace, fall, stumble catch
acquired tones of oak or berry--
other fruits would do, or none,
as i still feel
praised by your rejections --
when indifference gains a sweetness
like a novel vengeance won
i am indulging villainy
workshopping staling norms,
garden dark as cultivated loam.
where i am words
mooding intellect to torment,
faun complexity awry
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