Emily Comer-Zello: Favorites

Jun 2013 Emily Comer-Zello

A Thomas Hawkins

Never fall in love with a poet
for their words are sometimes lies
on occasions they're a shield
on occasions a disguise

They will take you on a journey
upon which they bare their soul
in a bid to ease your burdens
in a bid to make you whole

But in every word they choose
for the stories that they tell
lies a little piece of heaven
and a little piece of hell

Tormented souls we poets are
sometimes quite broken and despaired
in search of lost expressions
missed by others who once cared

Never fall in love with a poet
unless you're prepared to share their pain
to hold them close on the darkest nights
over and again

Follow me on Twitter @athomashawkins
http://twitter.com/athomashawkins

Aug 2012 Emily Comer-Zello

Dreams Of No Kind

Aug 2012 Emily Comer-Zello

Preech

Dreams Of No Kind

As an adult I have a sub-conscious mind,
which entertains my irregular dreams.
So are the dreams of a baby dreams of no kind?
Colours and shapes lacking their titles,
dark space and sounds, no word from the bible.

Ignorant bliss?
I think not as I rewind my dormant thoughts.
Remember my adventure in a land without time.
whether pleasant or not I wake up alive.
Though as I run through the trees, lost in the wild,
there’s excitement in mind, yet life can be mild.
Life is so structured.
The structure within dreams is rather more fragile.
No gravity and teleports.

Entire lives within seconds.

Which would you chose?
Dreams of no kind?
A land without time?

Aug 2012 Emily Comer-Zello

Attention to the trapped: Come and play.

Aug 2012 Emily Comer-Zello

Anna Parrish

Attention to the trapped: Come and play.

Fake as you act, You are oh so real.
Continue to wither.
Wither, and shrink.
Shrink, and crumble.
Crumble and have the misfortune of living.

Your wearing a mask, but it's still your face.
Continue to smile.
Smile, and lie.
Lie, and bury it all.
Bury it all deep in yourself, for it won't stay down long.

You are trapped and I can see it.
Why won't you come out?
I will accept the real you, I already love the real you.
I am on your side.

I am trapped and I can see it.
Why won't I come out?
I will accept the real me, I already love the real me.
I believe in myself.

Aug 2012 Emily Comer-Zello

Single Mother

Aug 2012 Emily Comer-Zello

Jonathan David Adkins

Single Mother

Never noticed me
Under her pink dye
And thick thighs.
Never noticed me
In others eyes,
In others lies.

Didn’t notice me
Sinking in
And taking name.
A kiss on the neck
And I’m to blame.

Didn’t notice me
Notice her,
The other one
With darker fur.

I feel like a kid again,
The butterflies
In my stomach
And on my face
Give way to
Nails on my neck
And choke
That I can taste.

I drink to
Blue eyes
And costly affairs.
The timid blonde
That broke silence
Now laughs at me
With a stare.

“Smile,” she says.

Aug 2012 Emily Comer-Zello

The Answer.

Aug 2012 Emily Comer-Zello

aya sakura

The Answer.

a laugh
a reckless smile
a chuckle

how hollow
how empty
how harrowing

eyes clicked shut
ears jammed close
limbs weighted

and air turns liquid
corrossive and thick as
fumes of consuming embers

the hunt
turns frenetic
goes frantic

still the screen remains shuttered
the space under the door
letting little monsters to trickle in

but no light comes with them
plugging close whatever's left
of illuminated space

and they shrieked their attendance
announcing their presence with
the aplomb of a fairy queen's coronation

i asked them
one simple question
'what? what made you come here?'

their gazes devoid of empathy
they looked at each other
and their still arriving mates

and voiced one answer

'because you are you'.

and i feel my lips tugging at the corners
and my tears building
in the dammed lake behind my retinas

and my feet grow roots
to seep and spread
beneath the barren ground

Aug 2012 Emily Comer-Zello

Blow of an ax

Aug 2012 Emily Comer-Zello

Yosa Buson

Blow of an ax

Blow of an ax,
pine scent,
the winter woods.

Aug 2012 Emily Comer-Zello

Rough Lubrication

Aug 2012 Emily Comer-Zello

Quinton Weston

Rough Lubrication

Sweat drips down her face. Down her chin. Down her *******.
Its getting in the way
So she gets reckless
So she heaves it over her head
And runs
The shutter slams behind her
But she doesn’t look back
Only forward
Only forward
Only forward
Wayward warrior stuck in motion
Sweat and tears lubricate her body
And though her mind is getting wobbly
She stays up
Even when she hears the gun
Even when she sees her blood
Even when his voice erupts
But it’s getting bleaker by the second
For her run is now a crawl
And in no time at all
She’s been dragged back to that bathroom stall
Now her liquids work against her
Before they were just in the way
But now
They augment her pain
The Blood
The Sweat
The Tears
They Drip
He smears them on her lips
Then he shoves it in
Shame fills her up again
But all the while she breathes
With a gasping open mouth
She’s not broken yet she thinks
But give me more is what she pleads
Which makes him get more into it
But she’s not lookin to be intimate
So she takes the stall and slams him into it
He thinks she thinks he’s dumb
So he then just calls her bluff
But he doesn’t notice how much she’s losing blood
But she hears it trickle on the floor
And before he can defile her anymore
She uses the blood as leverage
To slip
and Bring him to the floor
Then there is a crash
The toilet is smashed
And the only thing broken is the porcelain
And his skull
She’s alive
She on top
So she gets off
And takes him out
She looks down
And pulls up her pants
Then she winces
At the sudden realization
That she once admired this tyrant
In another time she would have liked it
But once she admitted her potential desire
She knew it had given her the will to be the survivor