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 Jun 2014 Grez
A Gouedard
i was walking around
in the Tate
on the Thames Embankment
London that day
it was hot hot hot
the heat haze
shimmered
above the river
like the sweat
that rose off my back
i saw you
all mixed up
with Picasso's
misplaced eyes
in Malaga blue
long necks,
curved limbs askew
morning balconies
the sculpture of a goat
made of a basket
***** ram
with a bicycle seat
we weren't allowed to ride
i kept thinking
of painted naked flesh
Velasquez, Degas, Matisse
and flying to Malaga,
Barcelona, Granada,
Paris, Venice, New York
all the cities we could **** in
over and over and over
if we ran off
together right then
any cheap hotel room
with a bed
and a shower
would do
we could give up
on looking at art
completely
screaming
meaningless
poems
words
endless
passiona­te
words
consumed
by life
 Jun 2014 Grez
elizabeth capital
No more woe is me, i am the creator of my destiny.rich or poor skinny or fat, full of talent or just a hack. No one's going to tell me what I can and can not be.
This is going to sound cliche but follow your dreams!!
 Jun 2014 Grez
Amitav Radiance
You can vehemently argue in Silence
The Loudest argument ever!
 Jun 2014 Grez
Simon Obirek
sometimes i wonder
how many people
I’ve talked to for the last time.

sometimes I wonder
how many people
I’ve hurt and how many
I have yet to hurt.

sometimes I wonder
how many times I’ve passed
the person I’ll marry.

sometimes I wonder
which of the people I love
will die first.

sometimes I wonder
when I’ll die
and if that will finally
make me happy.
 Jun 2014 Grez
Hayleigh
You scream urgency
Like an accident and emergency
waiting room,
like a person relapsing into addiction,
Because they pushed themselves
too soon.
And there are claw marks in the soil,
Where you've tried to get to grips,
with solid ground,
There's a danger in your voice,
Like a lost child waiting to be found,
And you string sentences at a time
but no sound emits.
Danger, like,
Racing cars and frightened cries,
And there are holes in your back,
Formed by the lies,
You've been subjected too
And i wonder if i could use them
To breath life back into you.
I wonder if i get close enough,
If i could see,
The dreams and memories,
Before they turned stale
And congealed in your veins,
And left you entangled in the remains.
The valleys of your eyes,
Run wide and down deep,
And when you weep,
Your tears fall heavier,
Than a ten tonne van,
You're a shadow of the man,
You used to be,
And even your shadow,
Has deserted you,
Sought someone anew.
And your foundations
Are built on heartache and pain,
And those little tear ducts in your eyes,
Constantly rain,
But you you're in a draught,
All the love you've showered others in
Means you've ran out,
for yourself,
And your health is a picture
Of cigarettes and late night drinks,
Old whiskey, poured down sinks,
And you're reaching the brink,
The breaking point,
But you quite like the sound,
Of broken plates,
And you quite like the taste,
Of self destruction.
And there's a ghost,
Where you used to be,
Haunting the curves
Of your smile,
That you paint on,
Why you defile
Your skin,
This terror your living in,
Could start a thousand wars,
And this battle your fighting,
Inside of your mind,
Leaves a carcus, a morsel,
Of yourself behind.
Your insides stick to the past,
Like double sided cello tape,
And there are windchimes in your spine,
Where your bones should be,
And your heart on your sleeve,
Is clouded,
By red marks where you've sliced open your skin,
In at attempt to be free,
Of those demons, the sin,
For a new beginning.
There's toxic in your lungs,
And a noose around your neck,
Where you've hung your expectations
Too high,
And you're hanging by a thread,
And tying knots the further down you slip,
As you sip,
Another shot of courage.
But there's only so long,
One can hold on for,
And believe me I've been down
To the depths of hell and danced with the devil
On many occasions,
And the sheer frustration,
Of the attempts to be patient,
Are wearing thin,
Like the warm skin, that stretches,
Over your protruding bones.
Just a first draft..
 Jun 2014 Grez
Gigi Tiji
Lifewater
 Jun 2014 Grez
Gigi Tiji
What I feel are rivers filled
with droplets made of life.

Like water, life rushes
over stone, yet wears
through mountains
over many years.

Lakes are memories
met by many rivers.

States of mind
are crossroads,
cross rivers.

Which channel
will I flow through?
How many times?

How deep will
I let it go, before
it becomes so dark
that I cannot see
the bottom?



Along the river are trees,
wooden waterways.
They grow with the
flow of the river.

Each new branch, growing,
shedding old leaves, casting
new shade, reaching new light.

New life.
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