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 Oct 2013 J R
wandabitch
Sleeper
 Oct 2013 J R
wandabitch
I discovered I cried at night
With you laying next to me. My pillow wet and cold.
Staring. At your shoulder.
Beckoning to hold a piece of me.

The heat from your body burned
My light leaves,
And I shiver as you wake.

Speaking through a dream.
Wish I could sleep.
 Oct 2013 J R
Alysia Michelle
Every time I think I've found
a new poet to love
they're taken.
© Alysia Michelle
I stumbled upon a mess,
a blessing in disguise,
my bitter sweet demise,
in the form of a girl.

She carried on her back,
a burden so heavy,
it had her unsteady,
and ready to snap.

I took her weight and carried it,
from mountain high to valley low,
through brutal rain and knee deep snow,
till we reached an impasse.

She could no longer carry on,
unless someone took her burden,
unless someone kept to their word,
and took away the pain.

And so I did,
silenced her tortured soul,
one big bullet hole,
in the side of her head.

And it just goes to show,
with a heart as black as coal,
even the girl with a tortured soul,
can teach you how to love again.
Copyright Barry Pietrantonio
 Oct 2013 J R
Edward Coles
My Cure
 Oct 2013 J R
Edward Coles
it’s windy i think,
at least the windows are rattling.

the men in hard hats,
yellow motes off in the distance
and their jackets the colour
of poison,

they scale the façade
of the contralateral building.

they’re speaking, yelling,
probably catcalling, singing
their ugly songs on cherry pickers
like some crowned nest
of wagtails.

it’s early i think,
though the lights are always on.

they’re fluorescent, staining,
unflattering colouration, rinse
your skin to poverty,
to jaundice.

i’m here because of pills
i’m here because school is out,
i’m here because i’m tired
and i’m here because of you.

flowers sit at the side,
already dry upon purchase.

gifted awkwardly;
do we give flowers to a man?
a boy in sheets, foolish drunkard,
balloons with helium
to lift my spirits.

its lonely i think,
though it’s filled with people.

wristcutter, lupus, chemo
all thrown into one.
we’re what’s left post-production,
left to sit in an outlet store;

buy me for half-price
or else half an hour of company.

i’m the young one,
nurses scan me with motherly eyes,
the radiator warmth,
their rounded bosoms,
‘you remind me of someone’.

at twelve to three, she washes me,
asks me to lift my *****
so she can get at the two-day grime
of indolence.

it’s sad here i think,
at least the television is boring.

daytime ghosts and broken families
make my bedsheets gain weight;
even the balloon sags
in heavy misery,
nothing is mine.

sleep comes in fits
and starts in blankness.

it ends with my questioning
of where the dream began
and where hope had perished.

you haven’t come,
i knew that you wouldn't.

it’s hard to blame you,
what with my post-use pinings
long after you’d given up
and the way i act familiar
after treating you like a stranger.

i long to leave here,
so much the windows are rattling.

i’m here because i am
i’m here because of my job,
i’m here because i’m tired
i’m tired because of you.
 Oct 2013 J R
Life's a Beach
Casket.
 Oct 2013 J R
Life's a Beach
The casket rolls by, far up ahead
and chorister's choirs sing the dead
to rest.
Those who are left behind, left awake,
to find solace on Earth within another.

Far from their mother,
brother,
sister,
lover or
other.

They're left to suffer above the ground,
fruitlessly searching for the sound of
a heartbeat,
a whisper,
a sign,
that once more they might wipe off
the grime of dirt and earth,
watch a rebirth,
feel a kiss,
a hug
a brief second of love
again from the person they
have left.

The death that has left them bereft
of everything.

"Without them, there is nothing."
Feels half formed, will try editing soon.
 Oct 2013 J R
Simon Quperlier
The outlined shadows of angel-like apparitions, and I'm soaked in anxiety like the wingless houseflies,
Where can I find peace in the midst of hell and nirvana?
My soul is torn apart and my body a rigor mortis,
I feel the blows under the baobab,
Where is the Lord? Where is the God that sheds light? Where is the God that resuscitates dead souls?
The devil has ****** my spirit in the dark hole, I'm now groping in the murk with my dogged effort,
I have been a survivor of many months, of the battle between the devil and the many generations, the way to find peace is to rest in peace, No! And what about my mama?
The divine lady who enshrines his son with a prayer, this woman tells me of how coward the devil is, she talks of the galaxies and the Hail Marys,
But I'm not dead yet, she is the reason why I'm still alive, and why I should live to 72
 Oct 2013 J R
Smudged Ink
worthless
 Oct 2013 J R
Smudged Ink
worthless
it's what i feel
it radiates through my bones
i wish it would go away
and just when i start to get back up
i am pushed down once again
i cringe when i hear those cruel words
but i swallow my tears
and put on a brave face for everyone to see
so they won't see what i feel
worthless
 Oct 2013 J R
Raegan Ballard
Let me be your Muse.
I will be your inspiration.
I will ****** you into creativity.
I will give you everything.
And give you nothing.
I will lure you to your doom.
Lust after your insanity.
Revel in your demise.
Come pet.
Relinquish your soul.
I will reside in your mind.
Whisper with your tongue.
Breathe with your lungs.
And you will die brilliant.
Let me be your Muse.
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