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 Jun 2015 galio
AnnaMarie Jenema
A feud had been lit,
firing since the beginning.
I was never good enough for you,
and could easily be misplaced.
Had an event occurred, one in which I wished to invite you,
you would come up with a million other things that you had to do.
I know it's not your fault,
you never choose to ignore your own daughter,
yet as years passed our distance wavered.
Your getting married again?
How long will it last?
I have another recital coming up?
No one ever said you had to go.
I was aggravated,
frustrated,
enraged even.
How could a mother ignore her own kid?!
But it's not your fault, and it never would be.
I could never hate you for distancing us.
For lying to me and always breaking your promises.
Don't promise me a thing with twisted fingers hidden behind your back!
And yet It never will be your own doing.
A mental disorder halts you from caring,
is your reason for disappearing from my life,
gone without a trace.
I see you, yet I can't reach to you.
That day over text,
I thought my words reached you.
I hoped you understood that your presence in my life means the world to me.
Yet again, you disappeared.
apparently my voice fell short,
as it always will.
This is my reconciliation.
This is who you are,
and I cannot blame you,
but I will never again trust you.
I love you unfaltering,
but only from a distance.
This is how you taught me to care for you.
The world is moving too fast.
"Wait! Please! Just wait..."
 Jun 2015 galio
Genevieve Leake
"I'm busy," she says
"I have work to do,"
"If I want to see the moon I can find a good picture online."

When is a picture
ever a good substitute
unless the real thing
isn't there?
 Jun 2015 galio
Lara Antonia
Oh willow tree,
What do you see, from your branches, which grow way up there,
How many years have you witnessed the tears, of the lover’s which seek solace here,
And how would you cope
If they tied a rope to one of the branches you bear,
And swung from the noose falling free, falling lose, as the wind blows your tassels of hair.

Oh willow tree,
What will it be, Will they come and take all that you’ve got,
Strip you down bare exposing you there as your wilter and crumple and rot,
And all of soles who walk the long road to see you in all of your might
Will shudder inside and the harrowing sight, at the damage they’ve caused in the fight,

Take it from me tree,
But I’m not that wise, you have been here for such a long time, lend me your words and ill Fight hard to speak but If we enter that battle we cannot be weak,
Teach us your ways tree; root us to the floor, we’ll armour our bodies and with strength we will draw, A picture of knight to rival up day
And in the shadows of darkness we’ll kneel down and pray,

Oh willow tree,
How you’ve sheltered me, through the love and the loss and despair, ill write it all down,
Put it in the ground and forget that it ever was there,
Burn it to a pulp as you witness my faults with my secrets you never will share,
For I trust in you like the others all do, with the insanity I regrettably bare.

Don’t take it from me tree, for I’m not that wise,
Without your advice, I lay by your side, begging you please, to never leave me
Alone at the sight were you’ve faithfully been
But alas they will come they will take you away with there weapons of war, with there greed lacking shame
They’ll tear you to the ground, and the crash of your sound Will echo to all that once shared
A secret with you now what will they do, when they see that you’re no longer still there.
 Jun 2015 galio
Clarke
Boredom
 Jun 2015 galio
Clarke
My world is a mess
Work is just irritating
But coffee is good
Bored at work
~~Follow me down the rabbit hole he spoke,
To a place of delirium and fantasy.
Let your mind follow as your body stays.
As goosebumps creep up your skin.
Feel me when you laugh, little pinholes in your brain.
Run free with me dear Alice,  
For a trip to Wonderland.
Just rest that thin piece of paper on your tongue.
Come with me, old friend.~~
ah, enslave without compassion
bound ancestors you must impale
go seek and show no mercy
let those who escape carry the tale

all the sufferers bearing witness
to their ministers spilling their blood
staggered screeches from bleak recesses
regicide plotters bend to the dust

with unmitigated conquest and *******
trample them under your tyranny

slimy enshrinement brings into question
what's divinely lamented for
scatter populations with ruthlessness
let them choose sycophancy or sword

reappoint difficult commanders
for instigation unbroken awaits
kept in frenzy, they whisper confusion
never quite sure of their fate

with unmitigated conquest and *******
trample them under your tyranny

let the cowardly unlock the gates for you
to heroically claim what's inside
crowds you abhor kneeling in wonder
all the world is your ****** bride

punctuate the roads with tollgates
***** monuments to broadcast your name
all your banquet's guests are your enemies
entertain them with one another's shame

with unmitigated conquest and *******
trample them under your tyranny

with unmitigated conquest and *******
trample them under your tyranny
under your tyranny
An instructional hymn for unseasoned conquerors.
 Jun 2015 galio
epictails
Magic Hour
 Jun 2015 galio
epictails
12:52
waiting for the magic
hour of one
so I can creep into
the dawn of my mind
like an uninvited guest
get lured by the labyrinth
of carefully woven thoughts
soak in the irreverence
of muted passions
in the crypt
of my shadow
 Jun 2015 galio
Richard Riddle
'Twas a balmy summer evening, and a goodly crowd was there.
Which well-nigh filled Joe's bar-room on the corner of the square;
And as songs and witty stories came through the open door,
A vagabond crept slowly in and posed upon the floor.

"Where did it come from?" someone said, "The wind has blown it in."
"What does it want?" another cried. "Some whisky, *** or gin?"
"Here, Toby, sic him, if your stomach's equal to the work -
I wouldn't touch him with a fork, he's as filthy as a Turk."

This badinage the poor wretch took with stoical good grace;
In fact, he smiled as though he thought he'd struck the proper place.
"Come, boys, I know there's burly hearts among so good a crowd
To be in such good company would make a deacon proud."

"Give me a drink -- that's what I want -- I'm out of funds, you know;
When I had cash to treat the gang, this hand was never slow.
What? You laugh as though you thought this pocket never held a sou!
I once was fixed as well, my boys, as anyone of you."

"There, thanks; that's braced me nicely! God bless you one and all!
Next time I pass this good saloon, I'll make another call.
Give you a song? No, I can't do that, my singing days are past;
My voice is cracked, my throat's worn out, and my lungs are going fast."

"Say! Give me another whisky, and I'll tell you what I'll do
I'll tell you a funny story, and a fact, I promise, too.
That I was ever a decent man not one of you would think;
But I was, some four or five years back. Say, give me another drink."

"Fill her up, Joe, I want to put some life into my frame --
Such little drinks to a *** like me are miserably tame;
Five fingers -- there, that's the scheme - and corking whisky, too.
Well, here's luck, boys! and, landlord, my best regards to you!"

"You've treated me pretty kindly, and I'd like to tell you how
I came to be the ***** sot you see before you now.
As I told you, once I was a man, with muscle, frame and health,
And, but for a blunder, ought to have made considerable wealth."

"I was a painter -- not one that daubed on bricks and wood
But an artist, and, for my age, was rated pretty good.
I worked hard at my canvas and was bidding fair to rise,
For gradually I saw the star of fame before my eyes."

"I made a picture, perhaps you've seen, 'tis called the 'Chase of Fame.'
It brought me fifteen hundred pounds and added to my name.
And then I met a woman -- now comes the funny part --
With eyes that petrified my brain, and sunk into my heart."

"Why don't you laugh? 'Tis funny that the vagabond you see
Could ever love a woman and expect her love for me;
But 'twas so, and for a month or two her smiles were freely given,
And when her loving lips touched mine it carried me to heaven."

"Did you ever see a woman for whom your soul you'd give,
With a form like the Milo Venus, too beautiful to live;
With eyes that would beat the Koh-i-noor, and a wealth of chestnut hair?
If so, 'twas she, for there never was another half so fair."

"I was working on a portrait, one afternoon in May,
Of a fair-haired boy, a friend of mine, who lived across the way,
And Madeleine admired it, and, much to my surprise,
Said that she'd like to know the man that had such dreamy eyes."

"It didn't take long to know him, and before the month had flown
My friend had stolen my darling, and I was left alone;
And, ere a year of misery had passed above my head,
The jewel I had treasured so had tarnished, and was dead."

"That's why I took to drink, boys. Why, I never saw you smile!
I thought you'd be amused, and laughing all the while.
Why, what's the matter, friend? There's a teardrop in your eye,
Come, laugh, like me; 'tis only babies and women that should cry."

"Say, boys, if you give me just another whisky, I'll be glad,
And I'll draw right here a picture of the face that drove me mad.
Give me that piece of chalk with which you mark the baseball score --
You shall see the lovely Madeleine upon the bar-room floor."

Another drink, and with chalk in hand the vagabond began
To sketch a face that well might buy the soul of any man.
Then, as he placed another lock upon the shapely head,
With a fearful shriek, he leaped and fell across the picture -- dead.
I was going to wait a couple of days, but, what the heck!
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