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 Aug 2014 The Quiet Poet
Yarelis
There are good sounds
and bad sounds.
There are those we want to hear
and those we don't.

There are sounds that make some smile:
     the voice of a person,
     a baby's first cry,
     the melody of a song,
     the chirping of birds in the sky.

There are sounds that make some frown:
     the sound of a gun firing,
     military trumpets at a funeral,
     the sound of a phone ringing
     when it's an unwanted call.

But those that make some frown
also fills others with joy,
and those that make some smile
could be the misery of a young boy.

Sounds can repair,
and sounds can destroy.
8/18/14
 Aug 2014 The Quiet Poet
Yvette
Cages fail in their attempt to hold beauty/ as sand from hand it slips/ slips from time taking shape in chance and impact/ funny how a cage traps the body/ yet the mind traps the soul//
She worked part-time as a seamstress,
An ordinary sort of girl,
But one with a dash of blue-eyed wit,
An endearing brunette curl.
I’d plucked up the courage to ask her out,
For me it was more than like,
And everything seemed to be going well
Before the lightning strike.

One day we walked to the countryside
By the fields of wheat and hay,
Rambling on by the hedgerows there
On a darkening Autumn day.
I stole a kiss in a grove of trees
From the lips that taste like wine,
And then she whispered her love for me
All coy, with her eyes a-shine.

The clouds were gathering overhead
And soon it began to rain,
We sought some shelter, under a ledge
Right next to a field of grain,
But she was nervous, clung to my hand
When the thunder growled on high,
‘The gods are grumbling over the land,’
She said, and began to cry.

I said, ‘There’s nothing to fret about,
It’s only an Autumn storm,
We’ll just stay here and we’ll wait it out,’
But Michelle was lost, forlorn.
A mighty clap came from overhead
And she screamed, ran out in the rain,
When a bolt of lightning struck her there,
A flash, then a shriek of pain!

I dashed on out, and I picked her up
But her clothes were burned and charred,
Her hair was white and it stood on end,
Full of some potent charge.
She rolled her eyes and she looked at me
Her face, a panic attack,
And then I saw that her sky-blue eyes
Had turned to a deep jet black.

The clouds were tumbling overhead
Though the rain was passing on,
The lightning strikes were further away
She cried, ‘Has the thunder gone?’
She sat there trembling in my arms
But focussed her gaze on high,
And said at last, as she stared above,
‘There are demons up in the sky!’

She spent a month in the hospital
And they said she’d be okay,
I’ll never forget the way she looked
When I picked her up that day,
She huddled up in the car and said,
‘The world outside has changed,
For fire and flashes are everywhere
There’s a lightning strike in my brain.’

‘And now, in the darkest corners I
Have visions of swarms of rats,
While up in the eaves, and waiting there,
A host of vampire bats,
There’s crawling things that I didn’t see
Before, when my eyes were blue,
And awful spiders with fourteen legs,
Right now, they’re crawling on you.’

I took her home, and put her to bed,
I thought that she needed rest,
A week went by, but she’d sit and cry,
I thought she was quite obsessed.
Then I started hearing crawling things
At night, when I went to sleep,
And woke to a creature on my chest
That made my own flesh creep.

There’s demons up in the clouds,’ she said,
‘And fires scorching the ground,
And everywhere that I look, I see
Where evil spirits abound.’
I couldn’t take it a moment more,
These things invaded my mind,
I did what anyone else would do,
And now, Michelle is blind!

David Lewis Paget
Don't tell me that no one will care
because they will.
Don't tell me we'll move on
when you know we won't.
Don't tell me that you're okay
when you have the rope in your hands.
Because,
Death,
is felt by all those who care.
You'll say I'm only doing this to myself
or I've felt pain much worse than this
or give yourself some other ******* lie
to cover for your exit,
your escape,
your stairway out of hell.
Well guess what?
If death is grief, hatred, tiredness, and
disappointment in what you've seemed to fail at doing, then I guess I've all already dug my grave

Right

Next

To

Yours.

Because I'm not letting go of the people I care about.
And I'm willing to fight for every second
they breathe.
You say you're pulling me down
but I'm the one holding my ground
not willing to let you sink
to the bottom you think
you've already hit.
Death,
is enviable,
And I feel it everyday
when I talk to you.
But I don't mind.
I like the pain
just like you.
It may not be the same kind,
but it definitely feels the same.
And,

I

Love

It.
 Aug 2014 The Quiet Poet
Daan
The core turned darker, crumbling
away, rotten decay, turned bumbling
by delay, started tumbling, started
falling, fallen, stopped
working.

Water reaches places, fire just can't,
to work poorly, to fail, to scant.
Replace the inner parts, at least
try to revive this metal fleshy beast.

If green is gone and brown has come,
you know you've stayed too long.
If your legs are flickering, turning numb,
you know it's time for a different song.
**** it while it is in pain
or heal its deep and salty wounds.
 Aug 2014 The Quiet Poet
holyoak
i'm stuck in traffic
during a rain storm
in the middle of the night 
and i'm subtly reminded 
of when you stopped 
holding my hand 
as much as you used to
the cracks in the windshield
remind me of us
i cross another county line
and i think it's just like you
same place
new name
my veins are power lines
running through this ghost town
i'm so full of electricity 
but no one taps into it
i guess i'm useless
it's been a long time
since i've seen anything special
in the shapes of the clouds 
i don't think hurricanes
know that they destroy so much
maybe that's why you don't know
that i'm in this kind of pain
the cracks in my windshield 
are getting bigger
i think it's going to shatter soon 
could you imagine
the window shattering
and the glass coming at me
as i'm speeding
down this dark and rainy road
i don't have to imagine
i've already met you

[holyoak]
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