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Oranges
do not grow in the sea
neither is there love in Sevilla.
You in Dark and I the sun that's hot,
loan me your parasol.

I'll wear my jealous reflection,
juice of lemon and lime-
and your words,
your sinful little words-
will swim around awhile.

Oranges
do not grow in the sea,
Ay, love!
And there is no love in Sevilla!
 Jul 2016 Greta Wocheski
mk
everythings alright
but i don't want to open my eyes

my parents talked about that dark disease
which only inflicted the ungrateful
they called it depression

the sun still rises
and the moon still swings across the sky
in its many shapes
but night or day; i am wide awake

i was concerned in a pleasurable way
when my pen refused to be silent
page upon page of sweet sweet misery
but now my hand is frozen
and the page lies blank
agony to silence
agony to still

they talked about what the bug was
how it ate through you and i listened so intently because even then i knew something was wrong

inside
something was wrong

i spoke to the crow today and he told me a silly story
about how the ruffles in his feathers keep getting heavier
and how one day he fell in the pond and watched himself sink
but did not cry out for help
he did nor cry out for help
some poor soul took pity on him and pulled him out
he did not cry out for help
he did not cry out for help

maybe time is relative but the clock ticks to let you know you're alive in a world that ***** out of you the spark that makes you tick that makes you tick
tick
tick
the clock ticks
tick
tick

maybe i'm too poor
too fortunate
too loved but inside me
this
this
this
i forgot what it's called
let's call it the friend
this friend
my friend-
what was i talking about again?

the smile still frowns
and the gold is still a crown
i will wake up
again

nothing is wrong
but i cannot open my eyes

nothing is wrong
i did not open my eyes
-read this at my funeral

[if you want a real poem go read the crunch by bukowski; now there's real poetry]
Just you and me, babydoll
in the back of the death trap
in front of the passenger train
in-between your rock and my hard place.

Ribcage like the basement heater,
you're really just the worst side
of paradise, pressing your
unreliable heat on my chest.

Whiskey and wine, baby mine,
don't taste nearly so good as when
I can lick the drops off your chin,
fearing I've ruined your chances.

'Cause you touched me, y'know,
me, the heaviest hand to hold, the
most hopeless burden to carry, and
I've never made it any easier for you.

I ain't a poet, really, just a man who
forgets what he's gotta say. Maybe one
day, when we're old and bitter and eating
our dust, you'll read between the lines.
 Sep 2014 Greta Wocheski
Mason
Blue, and sitting.
The harmonica sounds
like my mother.
I need my guitar
to get me out of here.
The world is strange.
I'm afraid.
The harmonica sounds
like my mother
crying because she's telling
the truth,
that she's afraid.
That the world is strange.
That only my guitar
can get me out of here.
inspired by The Old Guitarist, Picasso
"I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)"
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