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 Jan 2013 Gemini Baker
Tyler G
I carry the shallow weight of my own regrets.
I carry the guilt of my mother who felt she could’ve done more for my grandmother.
Nights spent, teary-eyed phone calls to the nursing home.
I carry the comprehension of my father.
Hundreds of times he’s defeated me at chess, at card games.
I am his knowledge.
I carry sorrow from soccer games lost and triumph from games won with the stench of wet grass and caked on mud still fresh in my memory.

I carry the weight of high school, the pressure to get into college, the weight of rumors and the regret of not paying attention in class.
Feeling hopeless and defeated when I fail a test, though I remember I can carry the power of success.
I carry the daily jeers and spite of my peers and my teachers.
I carry the burden of my mother’s size eight firmly up my *** when I don’t do what I’m told.
I carry three-day weekends and the joy of a snow day.

I carry my blood, my veins, my organs.
I carry my bones, my cartilage, my flesh and my hair.
I carry my beating heart and the sound it makes letting everyone around me and myself to know that I’m still very much alive.
I carry the ability of perfect hindsight vision, the ability of blind foresight.

I carry my friends, the pressure of their own burdens.
I own the ability to make them smile, the ability to cheer them up when I don’t know how to help myself.
I’ve carried some of them for as long as I can remember; some I can’t carry anymore, and some I’ve just started to carry.

I carry love and passion; I carry hate and abhor.
I carry confusion, delirium, nostalgia of days past.
I carry insomnia and sleepless nights dreaming up at my ceiling of life to come.
I carry my dreams, both physical and mental.
I carry what I aspire to be.
I carry photography, a story of my life through pictures, through captivity, through still frame.
I carry my wishes.

I carry the beach, the waves that crash down onto the shore and onto me and the salty residue that lands on my flesh and hair from staying out too long.

I carry stupidity, I carry charm and I carry luck.
I carry the regret of anonymity and the fear of being alone.
We all carry that; no one wants to spend life alone.
We carry expensive wedding bands and the pressure to say “Yes” and the hope that she’ll say it.

I carry the everlasting gaze of older relatives, some who have passed on to a better world.
They won’t have to carry anything anymore.

I carry countless vacations and holidays spent with my cousins and the millions of laughs we have shared.

I carry reminiscences of vacations and of meeting new people, people who I tried to stay in contact with, but alas, distance prevents friendship.
I carry the knowledge of the traveled world and the confusion of the uninhabited, undiscovered land.
I am a world traveler, I am a superhero; I am what I want to be and I carry that.

I carry a tainted mind.
A mind spoiled by politics, by war, greed and corruption of not only the government, but of my parents as well.
I carry the ignorance of thinking I’m right and everyone else is wrong, the false sense that I know what is really going on in the world and that I, and I alone, can make a difference.

I carry the benefit of living in a prosperous nation, a flourishing town.
I carry the thought of uncertainty of impoverish nations and how they live everyday without food and water, while I sit here and type on my own personal laptop.

I carry teenage angst.
I carry thoughts and memories of former lovers.
Some girls who have grown up to be different than what they once were, some who haven’t changed a bit.
I carry the thoughts of wonder, should I have said something to her?

I carry individualism, not being afraid of letting you know who I am and what I do.
I am myself and if you can’t deal with it then you won’t have to carry me anymore.
I no longer carry these words; my thought have been poured onto this paper.
My future holds the risk of not knowing what I will carry tomorrow, but I know I will carry life.
I know I may not be able to carry this all, but one thing is for certain: I will carry myself.
"Old man, please listen to my tale
   for someone needs to hear
The store of a girl with lies so dark
    and oh so many fears.

Old man this is important
    not just to me but to you.
I know you don't understand
    but trust me you will soon.

You is started with broken homes,
    which leads to single lives.
And judges and courts and child support,
    well, you knows as well as I.

The woman, she had a temper,
    and her fists and words did fly.
But she did her best with what she had,
   Boy did she try.

To fill the shoes that were much to big,
    when her feet were much too small.
Her frustration needed venting,
    call me the punching wall."

"Well little girl where was your dad,"
     he tenderly said to me.
"Well old man, I couldn't tell you,
    but maybe you could tell me."

A puzzled look did grace his face
    his features stiff and tall
So finally I asked the man
    "Do you recognize this at all?"

And I held out a picture of a babe,
    fresh from her mothers womb.
And a sign saying "Dear daddy,
    please come home from war soon"

"The war has messed me up dear child,
     for I am no one's dad."
I smiled as I said to him,
   "I know sir, I understand.

But you can't blame this on the war
   for we did meet again
Because I used to visit
   until you left to follow another ***** hen."

A knowing look graced his face,
    as he remembered me.
"Dear child I am sorry,
      I should have remembered thee."

"Oh it's okay old man," I say,
     "I just wanted you to know.
I have a husband now you see,
     and a family of my own

My husband, he adores the kids,
    of which there are two.
A little boy and girl, 7 and 9
    neither of which know of you.

One day I'll tell them of a man
    who had more important things to do
And then I'll point to my husband and say
   ' I didn't have a daddy like you'

And no amount of words,
   will change what is our past.
I do not seek apologies,
   I only needed to ask.

If when you go to bed at night,
   you ever think of me.
Do you ever think what you've lost,
   or did you just believe,

That we were better off alone
    and that I'd be alright.
Or were you just to busy,
    to think of me at night.

Did you remember,
   if my eyes were brown or blue.
Did ever wonder,
   If I looked like you."

"But little girl you didn't ask
    any of those today
I can answer all sufficiently
   and help you find your way."

"Old many I didn't need to ask,
     to get the answers that I seek.
For when you did not recognize
   your smile or your cheeks,

I knew that you were fine without me,
     and your reasons for being gone,
Were that you were much to busy,
     to bring a kid a long.

And I know that you don't miss me,
    for when my husband's away,
He drops down to his knees at the door,
   longing to hug his kids all day.

You did no such thing right here,
   and now I know the truth.
You were much to selfish,
   Who would need a man like you.

But before I leave, you should know,
   that I was never okay.
I always blamed myself,
   for why you didn't stay.

But thank you for the answers,
   and maybe I'll sleep tonight.
Knowing it wasn't me, but you,
   that was too weak to fight.

I'll take comfort in knowing it wasn't me,
   that pushed your love away.
You had no spare love to give,
   so I'm glad you didn't stay.

So I hope that you are happy,
   and I hope the world is kind and true.
For I am finally okay,
   knowing it was always you.
Eggs, eggs, toss them high in the air
Catch em, and gargle, and mash them, and swear
Eat them with shells, eat them with sauce
Eat them with bags, eat them with moss

Eggs, eggs, between sandwich bread
That's what the wise elderly miller had said
Before came the bomb and he had dropped dead
Before being poisoned by a surplus of lead

And then came a centipede, long and sanguine
And bit a small child, so recently weaned
Off the protein derived from his mother's fine eggs
So he had to start munching on his mother's fine legs

"Be warned" said the Miller, his hair all askew
While dousing his wounds with mountains of glue
A tapeworm emerged, and looked toward the sky
Feeling envy toward all the birds that could fly

But the Miller was quicker, even in old age
He smacked the worm soundly, in a manner enraged
Bruised from the damage, and covered in glue
The worm turned away from the sky that was blue

Never with pelicans would he fly with delight
Never with owls would he soar through the night
For all Darwin's cruelty, an injustice rings
Tapeworms simply have no need for wings

So he bit the old Miller, and laid ten thousand eggs
They hatched and devoured his liver and legs
And as the man writhed, waiting to die
He vomited upward, up toward the sky

The tapeworm went flying, up toward the clouds
The air felt exhilarating, the rushing wind loud
For once in his life, he soared with the birds
Then in came a swallow, and bit off a third

His body, segmented, fell in parts to the ground
Tears seeped from his eyes, his face in a frown
From the ground he gazed up into the ominous fog
Before being lapped up by an unlucky dog

The End
He comes at night
When all is sound asleep and tight
When darkness overcome the light
Its announcing His arrival

At first his shadow can be seen
When you are lost in magic dreams
Its He who"s presence in moonlight gleams
Bringing forth fear in flight

Silently without motion
He calls upon your inner notion
And with a lift of just His finger
Dark thoughts and fear that lingers
Is called upon to life

His main ambition is with submission
And purposely driven
To darken dreams into oblivion
As nightmares  enters your subconscious

He walks away from no man
The excecution of His plan
To silently disturb your slumber
And overcome with fear to numb
Your magic fantasies

His power overwhelms all men
Its He who smite your nights wonder
And whilst He smiles -upon He ponder
How terrified you be

And in your realm of sleep
He locks your dreams to keep
With nightmares you are burdened
Till morning light will creep
And you awake from sleep

Fear is what His nightmares feed
And where faith guards not your own belief
He grows a little stronger
Till when peace withold Him no longer
And Truth become weak
He waits to rule as dark leader
At night when all"s asleep

So say your prayers
Before you close your eyes
And hold hope tight within your heart
So that He will have to skip
Your dreams He then can't keep
With fear and with lies
At night

Before sunrise
If you suffer from lack of dreaming and its been a while since last you had sweet dreams!
 Jan 2013 Gemini Baker
Tom Orr
gun unslung
hanging by his side
swaying with his step

his step thorough
leaving sand behind
floating like particles of dust

dust now forgotten
as his step imprints
upon broken glass

glass shatters more
crumbling
like the cities of Israel
beneath the feet
of falsely declared gods

gods that now drive the mind
with intrepid pace
towards the unsuspecting

the unsuspecting victim
of such malice
that can only be embodied
by death

death
only defied by those
who can truly consider themselves
wholesome and true

and yet the truth struggles
to stop this relentless growth
of pride and self righteousness

and thus the marksman
raises the gun to his target

his breath steady
his heartbeat in his ears

a resonance that he despises
his imperfections are his enemy
And if not to be perfect then what else?

he pulls the trigger
 Jan 2013 Gemini Baker
Mathilda
-02-
 Jan 2013 Gemini Baker
Mathilda
In my dream
I will give you a long hug

You will be my blanket
And I will nuzzle the curve
Where your shoulder joins your neck
The soft lips you feel against yours will be mine

As will the light touch
As I stroke your ribs with my fingertips

I miss you.

Wish I was there to keep you company
And sleep beneath the roses

2013.01.03
One dull night as I sat by the fire
Sat by the fire, playing my lyre
All of a sudden I heard a loud crack
A crack that sounded like it was out back
I rushed from my comfy place by the heat
Hurried outside through the snow in bare feet
To find there was nothing; I went back in
Grabbing a blanket from out of a bin
Sitting back down in my seat by the fire
Looked at the clock, it’s time to retire
Retire to my bed to get some sleep
I laid down to a sleep, a sleep so deep
So deep that the silliest things seem real
As real as the closest thing you can feel
I dreamed of a world, a world outside mine
This world was calm, and everything was fine
The air smelt quite nice, the ground was pure white
The people were free, there was not one fight
They had not a care as they lived their lives
Living their lives just so that they survive
Good morning! Good evening! Good afternoon!
They said with a grin, like that of a loon
And as I began to adore this place
I woke from that sleep, in my dismal space
The tapestry hanging, tattered and worn
On a wall that was innately forlorn
These things had been here for many a year
Many a year, but to me just appeared
As bleak, unsightly and just plain ugly
All of these things I used to find snugly
It all just seemed extra, more than I need
I need something simpler, that is indeed
I jumped from my bed and grabbed for my coat
Slipped into my shoes and wrote a quick note
Explaining to any that may come by
That I can’t live here and then tell them why
I’m off to explore, find a new abode
One much more simple, not on any road
Life in the city just isn't for me
Between greed, envy, and monotony
I need something rural, nothing excess
Something less daunting to relieve this stress
As I stepped off the porch of my old home
Ready to move on and willing to roam
I walked one direction, and then the next
Though finding this place should not be complex
I walked toward the forest, just turned and went
‘Till I was there I would not be content
The snow covered forest was so pristine
Everything was so white and serene
As I kept walking past tree after tree
I stumbled across a river, you see
A coating of ice that flowed underneath
I stood there staring with chattering teeth
Flowing water was encased below me
There was no place to cross that I could see
I turned and I walked down the river a bit
Then came to a rock, where I chose to sit
I sat and I looked, as to comprehend
And saw further downstream there was a bend
I ran to the bend to see what was past
And what lay before me had far surpassed
All the expectations that I had made
I gazed at a village where children played
A village so peaceful, it was just right
I walked into town, it was almost night
A polite stranger offered me a room
I walked inside and saw flowers in bloom
Some beautiful flowers, they just fit there
I tried to continue, but had to stare
He pulled me away, led me to a bed
I laid down on it, and rested my head
While drifting to sleep, the room just a haze
I saw something close, to my heart dismayed
A tapestry, not unlike whence I came
Hung above me, in a hard wooden frame
I shut my eyes tight, aspiring to dream
And woke with a fright when I heard a scream
I was cold, disheveled and in a tree
And there was a woman pointing at me
I went to look when I heard a loud crack
I fell to the ground, landed on my back
I never came home from that fateful trip
And all just because my finger had slipped.
Complex cosmos.
   Intertwined divine.
Emerging energies tangled in vibrant vibrations.

   Beings of light.
      Woven through time and space.
Mind meeting spirit.
    An Awakening.

Truth echoes in the silent wind.
   Open eyes with ancient ties.
          The illusion is wearing off.
        Dormant souls colliding,
    Seeing light beyond this realm.

A revolution beyond government and world order.
       A conscious shift, long awaited.
           Beyond technology and media schemes.
         A new view.
     Simply pure.
Beautifully complex.

   A transcending universe in the minds eye.
Opening mystical doorways into the great forgotten.
     Taking spirit back.
         Claiming love and light for all who accept it.

Nature fueling the human imagination.
  The endless curiosity,
       We are cleverly designed to crave.

Follow me tonight,
      I’m the stars in the sky.
  We’re all just seeking truth
        And we’re just passing by.
I was sitting on a train with my pad and a pen, trying to write a poem. I had no title, but I had written down the first line

...I was sitting on a train with my pad...

A man sat opposite me.
After a minute or so of scanning his paper and throwing cursory looks in my direction
he enquiried "What are you writing?"

"I'm trying to write a poem about a man trying to write a poem on a train
who gets asked by a stranger 'what are you writing'.

"Can I be in it?", asked the stranger opposite.

"You already are", I replied.

The train pulled out of the station.
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