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 Feb 2013 Harley Rae
Tim Knight
Dear warmth,

May you rub your back against my shoulder
‘til the windows mist with condensation,
and we fall back into youth, hiding
away from the older.

May your temperature, rising to the point
of red cheek puncture, provide an oasis
under the sand of duvet’s cover.

May your hair whip around like every
flame I’ve ever seen, no agenda or judgement,
just sheer ecstasy and  excitement.

May you conjure up that lone shower feeling,
that one where for a brief slot in time everything
you know and have become floats away through
that extractor fan, out into the air- climbing higher.

May you provide that gasp of heat that
hits the cook in the face, after opening the oven’s
gate in hunger and haste.

May you be that holiday sun I always seek.

May you be the metal womb of  a car when
outside in the myriad hospital world
where it’s cold.

May you be humorous and humid and
totally lovely to be with.

May you be a heated conversation and argument
and disagreement, that torment of words
I need to hear.

May you be my laugh that bubbles up
from the volcano underneath.

May you be the heat caused by key
and lock, that one that stops
others from coming in and making
for ruin.

May you be that first sip of  ‘the
most civilised thing in the world’, as
Hemmingway put it, and let it ignite
a dance below.

May you not judge the mixture
of my grape and grain, and my love
for walking in the rain and my waiting for
ex-girlfriends every time they call.

May you always let me bed down
in that manger in the snug, though
Steve doesn’t know I borrowed his
blanket rug.

May you forever toast that bread
at midnight, just before bed.

Yours faithfully,
The Cold.
from www.coffeeshoppoems.com > ALWAYS LOOKING FOR SUBMISSIONS
Words whip violently across my tongue's tattered sail,
lashing out at your shore.
Dunes retreat under pressure,
branches break,
your once wide beach appears a slim line of dust.

Still,
a rocky island remains.
Edges temporarily softened,
you are unchanged.

Leaves regrow atop new dunes,
your gentle sands settle gracefully back into place,
as my warm sun once again kisses your shores.

Forever your formidable companion,
you are mine.
I have had woman
probably ruined a few of them
stolen their innocence
let them **** me
**** me
love me
and then i left them
swollen
and alone
while I go off to another one
or some bottle
shaped like a woman
skinny at the top
fat in the middle
and good to the last drop
either way
i leave them
empty
cold
and alone
naked on my floor
never knowing
that my love
is reserved for what they have inside
the things they never see
 Feb 2013 Harley Rae
niall sheehy
I
This is what I do when I can’t sleep.
Write my hate notes while others dream deep.
I draw shapes of plight with my pen
And I’m dysfunction and I’m all dark.
II
I can’t watch my rind wringed anymore.
Between bone and skin
Is a hole where my soul once flowed.
Now floored.
III
Beat back: broken back:
The stain of us.
The vacuum of us.
The timely death of us.
I draw shapes of plight with my pen
dreaming dysfunctions and all dark.
I don’t play guitar

I don’t write poetry

People say I walk weird

My singing sounds awful

I am a bad dancer even in my dreams



I knock myself out,

Walking into doorways and walls,

I am such a klutz.

I stutter on the phone,

I am such a nervous wreck



Yes, I am jealous

Because you are amazingly gorgeous

And  I am just me….
 Feb 2013 Harley Rae
August
I used to wear my heart upon my sleeve
But then it frayed,
And now I'm left with a pile of string
© Amara Pendergraft 2012
 Feb 2013 Harley Rae
August
You must create something elaborate
Twirling your fingers around like ribbons
Weaving together magic and wonder
Gliding gracefully, this is your stage
You are alone in the light, with yourself
Wearing robes of imagination & frivolity
Sliding across, dancing a beautiful dance
You're not paying attention, swallowed by your mind
You don't notice what is slowly creeping from behind
Dark robed figures inching up towards your back
So many, with masks of clay and paper mache
Painted ****** red and black
With hollow eyes and hunched over spines
Each with a grisly word painted on their chests
Each reads something different, something awful
You have to keep yourself busy or you begin to crumble
So you don't notice what they say, you don't see them


     Life
         Poverty        Religion  
             Time                             Anxiety    
       Destitution                                         Fear  
           Loathing                                                        R­eality  
            Age                                         ­                                   Conscious  
         Bitterness        They circle around you             Critique  
          Past                        As you twirl               Loneliness  
      Depression                                    ­        Insanity  
          Hunger                              ­Intoxication  
   Emotion           Death  
        No Hope  

You never see it coming.
And you are swallowed whole
A
DARK
DOWNWARD
SPIRAL
BADUMP
BADUMP
BA­DUMP
The only sound
Your heart beating
AS THEY CLASP THEIR BLACK HANDS
AROUND IT & TUG YOU
DOWN
DOWN
DOWN
down
down
d
o
w
*n
© Amara Pendergraft 2013
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