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 Aug 2016 Irlomak
Tim Emminger
It's the midnight hour
Goodbye yesterday, today is tomorrow
Goodbye pain, goodbye sorrow
It's a new start, today is tomorrow

There is something special about the midnight hour
In the darkness the moon is the guiding light
You pick yourself up and begin to fight
You only live once and this is your life
There is something special about midnight
Driving into work this Sunday morning, listing to the preacher on the radio. He talked about how magical the midnight hour was.
 Aug 2016 Irlomak
Eleete j Muir
As I sit and stare at paper pen in hand
I dream and yearn to write something people understand
Listening, awaiting the voice of a reader
fame echoes; beckons even upon the spoken word-
Yet money does not come without notoriety
And words, words, they are all I have.
Friendships lost; family deceased
They do not know this mind of mine
They do not appreciate poetry
They do not love me as and like I have promised to love you...
As I sit here typing onto the blank white screen
My eyes filter the light and the shadows,
Of everything I have ever seen.
Music is poetry's best friend
And I am dancing; the world is dancing
whilst our favourite stars sing
My words shake the dance floor...
Dreaming of an awakening consciousness is a phantom-
Dream poetry, scream if you must
Let the people hear
Let the people feel
Make the people think and
Let the world know;
Let the world know,
Of one persons dream of becoming a poet.





ELEETE J MUIR
 Jul 2016 Irlomak
The Duckling
I sit at the edge of my bed,
White stocking covered feet
Swaying without breaking a beat,
You laugh and tell me, "no more, sweetie"
I give a smile but continue in denial
In denial that this is a fantasy I created after a while.
After months of late night calls and whispered sins
Months of laughter and cocained induced spins
It was when the truth slipped my lips that fantasies and dreams were locked away.
I laid in my cold bed, staring through a screen.
Your jaw tightened and my eyes fluttered closed.
Moments before we had laughed about our fantasies and I dreamed of a alternative life.
I even said, dreams don't come true and you neither denied it or agreed.
You enjoyed the thought of holding me and brushing your fingers over my skin.
I now enjoy the thought, alone in cold sheets of being loved again.
I messaged you in silent fear, will you ever come near?
Near to what we use to be,
Near to laughter and calling me your little Ducky?
You say you are torn, hurt and distressed.
One little Lie and I have to pull up my dress.
I cover my body and bow my head,
My Love, I am nothing but dead.
You don't know it now but I can see,
A day or so you will forget about me.
Fantasy will be locked behind a door,
Dreams have turned to nightmares since you aren't here anymore.
I wish I could have kept quiet,
But silence isn't my strong suit.
I wish you were dumber, after your nose is abused,
But instead you remain sharp and count the years until I can down a *****.
I sit on the edge of my bed,
Bare feet swaying.
My eyes are glued to the bare stop I wish you were kneeling.
I part my lips to return a sassy response when I remembered;
Fantasies don't become reality.
 Jul 2016 Irlomak
Lauren Ehrler
It hides in the darkness
And lurks in the shadows

The sun can block it out
But not keep it away in the night

Sometimes the moon is my only solace
But it leaves

Then I'm left alone

The demons whispering
Become shouts

It leaves me deaf
And blinded

The light stolen
By the hateful thieves

With that light
Leaves
My
Hope

But it lingers in my mind
Even when it's pitch black

Even when the shouts make me deaf
I hear the words

Hold
On
Possibilities
Exist

The little birdie
My little angel
My wonderful friend

Is here
They snuck in
And were beside me
They were with me
Even through the worst

When no one was here
They still were
They became my light

Even now as I'm in the dark
I know they are here
And it gives me

Hope
Hold
On
Possibilities
Exist
 May 2016 Irlomak
David Ehrgott
If you were gonna
Then you would have.
But, you didn't.
So, you weren't.
 May 2016 Irlomak
Lost
Mosaic
 May 2016 Irlomak
Lost
My life
Is like
A mosaic.

Shattered pieces
Fit together,
In hopes
To look
Beautiful.
I could relate to the project we're doing in my art class.
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