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 Oct 2013 Eliza
Hungry Envelope
Simple divisions are the most dangerous.
Lines that cut
us apart.
I feel and see too many of them;
spaces we don't want to explore
with great high walls between them
signed in red as "discovered".
And people with too many angers
for their simple faces to tell.

I say it shows too plainly
that blood is only skin deep.
Outside ourselves we are content
to differ at a glance
and fit and bundle and suffocate
all manner of things into one.
In a comparison of many to many
the lines get thicker and sharper
and because blood is only skin deep
we see it more often than we might.

Why does it not register?
Why should its message seem so obscure?
It screams and stains,
thickens and stains,
heals and stains,
it stains us.

Perhaps blood, only skin deep,
is still buried beyond our reach
and in a fit of obsession
we change and twist what we can.
A desperate struggle to rid ourselves
of ourselves.

The blood we know is safe,
or perhaps just too close
to take apart and reinvent
And so we look elsewhere
to sever our connection
with lines we cling to
lines that bind
lines to divide
lines can describe
lines that listen
lines can inspire
lines to imprison
lines at the very edges of our vision
catching all the light for the sake of easy decision.

Our blood is only skin deep
but our lines are held deeper
and so much harder to spill.
 Oct 2013 Eliza
Chantel Galdo
Lies
 Oct 2013 Eliza
Chantel Galdo
The lies
Untold but not inexistent
Always there
Hiding
Watching
Judging
Poor thing
She had no clue
What you were doing to her
What you had already done
Tucked away so far
So deep
So hidden
But eventually
For they don't give up
Those secrets you tried to hide in the dark
They crawl
And they scratch
Until they finally break the surface
They'll find the light
And then she'll know
Poor thing
She never had a chance
 Oct 2013 Eliza
Mike Hauser
I've been drawn in deep
These strange rhymes that beckon me
I have no need to escape
As they invade my dreams

Since I've arrived here on this corner
Where all these wonderful poets converge
I've been enlightened, enthralled, and captured
By the wonders of their words

Some so deep and darkened
I'm saddened by the pain
But the pain somehow calls out to me
For I return time and again

Where I find a soul lighthearted
With a festive carnival of words
I step onto the path they've laid for me
And walk with them inside their mirth

So as I'm standing on this corner
With my lot of new found friends
We'll step onto this winding path together
On a journey to suit our whims
 Oct 2013 Eliza
tranquil
enwrapped in ornate flush
are seven colors of rain
bear me in your memory
behold this little pain

to blurry shades of sky
we'll throw our stars again
but pangs of sooty love
watch them few remain

from prisons of solitude
although perhaps in vain
just hint me through this cloud
in tears my love remain

through burning dreams at night
and fiery shadows lain
bear me in your heart
behold this little pain
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