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 Nov 2013 Jo
Guss
The Tasteless
 Nov 2013 Jo
Guss
This is a tasteless funeral.
So put it in then burn it all.
Try the fuego,
Ethanol.
Breating in an answered call.
I've taken fall for risky bearing.
Bearing all without a care.
Neatly folded underwear
and tightly braided blonde hair.
From there I try to stare
But fail then scare,
*for heart,
just too small to share.
 Nov 2013 Jo
Guss
#MugglePorn
 Nov 2013 Jo
Guss
In Twenty thirteen
I learned to learn
And I learned to lean.
Mark off
The check box.
Mach 2.
Chicken pox.
We're Slowing down
away from the frown.
Back in town,
then out of town,
breaking down,
distracting sound.
*Then I am found
beneath the creature
which is myself.
 Nov 2013 Jo
Guss
password: *******
 Nov 2013 Jo
Guss
My soul is intertwined with metal and silicone.
Social interaction defined by discracebook.
My outlook, unswerving.
My very being, unnerving.
Consistently wondering what will come of my children.
And picturing how I will raise them in Meriden.
And of theirs, if they even exist at all.  
Now I stand tall.
Laughing at my own reflection.
A tyrant to myself.
Im packed tight with wires and GPS.

What a mess of humanity.
The man that I cannot be.
Groping and moaning for a woman I cannot see.
On the curtain of morning,
I wake up and go to ***.
Then I lay my *** down
and nod off to philosophy.
 Nov 2013 Jo
Guss
The Blind
 Nov 2013 Jo
Guss
The ****** truth was eaten and whole heartedly gone.
There was nothing now,
but burning pages of a long lost love story
here for only moments more.
For every different moment lost,
your beauty never faded.
And it’s dreadful,
that even with such perfect eyes
you let me go unseen.
What I have seen,
is dirt.
Dirt that grows from mounds of gold.

And gold.
Gold that was lost to chasing beauties,
and to greedy bearings
.
It would be great to finally know you,
the creature you are now.
You leave me broken and breathless,
but I’m bold enough to love again.
Crooked, bent, and busted.
Here I lie,
the man you never trusted.
 Nov 2013 Jo
Guss
The Password
 Nov 2013 Jo
Guss
Our making love was keyboard strokes.
An oscillating UFO.
Flying across dimensions.
I found you titillating.
Late nights debating.
Finding rhyme from reason
but still abating.
I forgot your face like I forgot my password.
123456. Or was it 654321.
Wait maybe you were binary,
sometimes I like that.
011010010110110101101001011100110111001101111001011011110111010­1.
Well anyways,
I’ve experienced better days.
Clicking buttons. Surfing webs.
Google maps from A to B.
But never once would I have guessed
that this is where I'd be.
 Nov 2013 Jo
Guss
Star Trek
 Nov 2013 Jo
Guss
Stardate whatever.
The Klingons are attacking and my tricorder isn’t functioning.
Conjectural and anointing the furrows of my phaser blasted brow.  
There you are.
A messy image in the transporter beam.
Gleaming and swaying amongst the particles of dust.
“I’m impossible to save,” I say.
“So save yourself, this planet is about to blow.” I say again.
It seems our universal translator isn’t working.
Otherwise, you would have left me.
Trusting is the hardest part.
I’ll do without it.  
Beam me up Scotty.
 Nov 2013 Jo
Chelsea Molin
There's a spark in the darkness,
A faint glimmer of hope,
Someone to dull the ache
So you know you're not alone.

A moonbeam, silver streak of light,
Bursting through the black
To ease the troubled mind,
Kindling your heart until your faith comes back.

The warmth spreads
Like waves across the sand,
Lingering like fog
Inches above the land,

But nothing in pitch can last.

The distant glow,
The perfect summer night
Grow dimmer and fade
Keeping just out of sight.

You strain to see
The light in the dark,
The burning sensation
That tears you apart

The semblance of joy,
Of something exciting and new
Temporary at best
Like a shooting star, a lovely view.

Here one moment,
Gone the next,
A flash of light
Swallowed by the swirling vortex;

A dank void, a gaping mess,
Clinging to what might have been,
Filled with hope and restlessness
Waiting for the match to be lit again.
 Nov 2013 Jo
Nicole Alyse
Vagabond
 Nov 2013 Jo
Nicole Alyse
I have spent most of my twenties,
living out of suitcases and shacking up with
madmen.

A gypsy, on an eternal search
for four walls,
that smell of
fresh paint.
And a warm body--- to press against mine,
if only (and usually)
temporarily.

As the months pass by in my
fancy, new cage---
I become restless, stifled and stagnant.

I’m a like a leaf on a branch,
waiting to blow
aimlessly in the wind
and a footprint,
waiting to embed itself into the soil
of places
I haven’t yet walked.

I am a pair of eyes
waiting to penetrate their gaze,
onto the symmetrical features,
of foreign faces,
I haven’t yet seen.

I am a nomad,
who cannot grasp,
the conception of home.
All I know how to do
is pack my bags
and
          keep
                         moving.
 Nov 2013 Jo
Zedler
[numbers]
 Nov 2013 Jo
Zedler
Detain, and explain to the public,
why these rhymes seem so redundant.
[two] for the second letter of the alphabet, the woman
I haven't crashed out of love yet.

Bear with me if it seems amiss,
[five] for the encounter where I finally
placed a kiss on her lips.
Wishing I wasn't missing.

To review, ink contained in pages
of the book labeled as [two], there's
a poem written by the name of [sleep],
written after the events in the previous stanza,
which after, of reality I got a grip
and coincidentally this poem in her
direction written was also the fifth.  

As well as [two] being the book
published by my hand as number [five],
I slowly see the everlasting love starting
to die.

Aren't quite finished yet,
as none of it I regret.
To me my favorite and always the best,
struggling to write, as my heart pounds
and causes friction with my chest.

Met on the twentieth day of November,
contains a [two], but that might be a stretch,
as I find more reasons to love her while
smoking this cigarette.

If counting November as number one,
It took us [seven] months to become one;
addition of [two] and [five].

Letting a lot of details go by,
but if my math is correct,
that would mean that May was the
month we began a relationship.

May being the fifth month of the year
and I know this last fact about my baby seems crazy,
but having ripped this heart and
having it served on plate, I learned to
believe in fate, both embarked love and
sailing on a relationship, was none
other than May on the on the day of the
[twenty-fifth].
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