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 Dec 2013 Imogen
Thomas R Parsons
Still I stand,
Alone in the world,
People all around,
And yet,
Still I stand.
This was the first "poem" I ever wrote as a 15 year-old child after knowing the word hurt too early.  In its simplicity it says much.  It is sad to see it again because that 15 year-old lives within.
It can't be easy

being the patron saint of sinners

but ****** all if you don't make it seem that way.



You look so good in blue,

as you serenely sway along the streets

touching the eyes of blind

just like Christ's own messenger.



The dirt and dust that coats us all

never seems to stick to you,

the disease that cripples us

you cast off with a twist of your

white hand.



You're silhouetted form

against the wall,

cast from an acrid fire

gave me some kind of hope.

A soft whisper of a word

that you produced from nowhere

made me feel like I could be you.



Wars seem to die between

your lips

and so could I.



You might as well have wings.



But where are you tonight?
 Nov 2013 Imogen
Ally Smith
Like a game of Russian Roulette,
I sit here and I sweat.
My palms are cold and wet.
I am waiting for the gun
To make its way to me.
The barrel glistens
As if to my thoughts it listens.
I am waiting for the bullet’s collision.

My heart pounds in my throat.
My heart pounds in my head.
My heart beats in its place.
What if you found me dead?

Finally the gun has made its way
All the way to me.
Across from you at this table,
I do not break my gaze.
I take a shot of whiskey.
I swallow all the ***.
I put the barrel to my head.
Won’t you join the fun?

You know, my dear,
I am well aware of my mortality.
It hangs on by a thread.
How would you like to know
That said thread
Is made up of
All the words you’ve said?

The gun shines like your eyes.
You taunt me with your smile.
“C’mon, just pull the trigger.
You’ve been stalling quite a while.”
Your smile reassures me
So I put some pressure on
The tiny little trigger,
With the help of some liquor.

Nothing happens.
It is what it is.
It does not really matter.
Because I know what love is.
 Oct 2013 Imogen
Troy Urbalejo
Oh my baby went and left me yesterday.
She left the spare key, her picture, she left the memories.
And oh my baby said she wasn't happy lately.
So I bought her a new dress, a ring and a bouquet.
And oh my baby went and left me ysterday.
She said I hope I have a great life, she said she was sorry.
And I couldn't hear her over the pounding of the walls.
She's a gunner and a angel, shes a rebel without a cause.
And oh my baby went and left me yesterday.
But I'm a strong man and this love i'll wipe away.

And oh my baby turned and looked at me that way.
The way your lady does when your lady is angry.
She raised a fist and she slammed the door.
She left me outside wondering what I did to her.
And oh my baby went and left me yesterday.
She said a curse, she gave me a spell.
She hexed me a enernity to her hell.
Oh my baby went and left me yesterday.
She had her gun again, lady left me wounded.
And oh my baby she once took both of my hands.
Said those four words I couldn't understand.
Then she left me with a ******* in a cute summer dress.

Oh my baby, my lady, she left me yesterday.
But I gotta say when my lady left me, my baby left me in very **** way.
 Oct 2013 Imogen
Larry B
Abandoned
 Oct 2013 Imogen
Larry B
The baby can't stop crying
As she places it in the box
She finds a dumpster to throw it in
As she walks along the docks

There was nothing else, she could do
A mother, at only fifteen
She hurries away as fast as she can
As she hears her baby scream

A runaway, she's all alone
An addict, for years on crack
Her baby left alone to die
But still, she won't turn back

Thrown away, like a piece of trash
A baby, without a name
An innocent child abandoned
By a mother who bears no blame

Another victim of circumstance
Shamelessly, cast aside
With no one there to hear it's cries
The abandoned baby died
 Oct 2013 Imogen
Julia Low
I left you delicate -
dressed in ribcages and heart beats
protrustion leaving baby blues
I never meant to pick you, stem and all.

My idea was to leave you for the fall
aching chill across bones
a broken cage of wigs reeling you in
tethered to the wind.

But, I'll bury snakes in this -
your garden of falters
I never meant to rip you from the stem to leaf
fragile fingers pressed
between teeth.

I left you delicate
my hinges rusted from swinging
dressed in lavender lament -
compliments to your baby blues
patterns for others to see.

I left you delicate,
just as you left me.
 Oct 2013 Imogen
Pablo Neruda
You are the daughter of the sea, oregano's first cousin.
Swimmer, your body is pure as the water;
cook, your blood is quick as the soil.
Everything you do is full of flowers, rich with the earth.

Your eyes go out toward the water, and the waves rise;
your hands go out to the earth and the seeds swell;
you know the deep essence of water and the earth,
conjoined in you like a formula for clay.

Naiad: cut your body into turquoise pieces,
they will bloom resurrected in the kitchen.
This is how you become everything that lives.

And so at last, you sleep, in the circle of my arms
that push back the shadows so that you can rest--
vegetables, seaweed, herbs: the foam of your dreams.
 Oct 2013 Imogen
Ethan Robison
Broken glass of a window pane;
Broken home and a widow's pain.
Tears hang off a foreclosure notice;
The ones who are left hurt the most, ever noticed?

Easiest way is the one seen before;
Today her daughter will only be four.
Her daughter's aunt will raise her sure;
She heads for the cold forsaken shore.

Jagged rocks and gulls pass by;
On the cliffs, her last good bye.
One step, her love she longs to see;
Her limp body soon claimed by the sea.
 Oct 2013 Imogen
Josh Whitton
You were in Bottocelli's dream,
That you came from the sea,
Surfin' - a shell to the shore.

If there's one kind of thing,
That'll make your heart sing,
Is her beauty - You just can't ignore!

You're a daughter of mother nature,
Your father is of the sky,
Homer told your story but you,
Are the love of my life.

-Josh Whitton
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