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 Jul 2014 Joel Emmanuel
JR Potts
We joke sometimes
about falling in love,
we talk in deep detail
about our romance;
the kind of house we want,
the name of the family dog,
would we rather have boys or girls,
and we argue over who will stay home
to raise the kids, I always let you win.

We joke sometimes
about growing old together;
we talk about thinning hair,
wrinkling skin, tired eyes
and energized grand kids.
We promise to one another
that we will stay in love,
still hold hands, hug each other tightly
and kiss both daily and nightly

We joke sometimes
about a life we could be living
and I just want you to know
that I am not always kidding.
 Jul 2014 Joel Emmanuel
JR Potts
The sun dripped with liquid gold
from the heavens above
to the earth below
coral, violet and red
hung over my head
revealing to my afternoon eyes
the very soul of the fatherly sky
and I heard the sea speak
oh so salty and sweet

She whispered to me
goodnight in a gentle breeze
against the fading of the light
sinking beneath the horizon line
turning form a wild fire burning
into cool and ancient black
slick with shimmering stars
like freckles upon a giant's back

I, just another grain of sand
among the many on this beach
felt on the scale of existence
that mine carried little significance
no more than an ellipses in a speech
so what would it matter
if the rising waters
were to wash me out to sea
or if I remained
and the world ignored me
What would it matter?

Why was it not enough
that I was here
and I was alive?
Just
One
More
Day.

Yes.
Excitement.
    2. Bubbly belly.
    3. Oh, this guy is nice.
    4. Is this place clean?
    5. This chair is cozy.
    6. New needle. Yes.
    7. That doesn't really hurt.
    8. Yay!
    9. Oh. I am about to pass out.
    10. Cold compress. Water.
    11. Lie back.
    12. Good. And again. This doesn't  
    really hurt.
   13. Cold compress. Water. Lie            
     back. Chew gum.
   14. Good. And again.
   15. Done!
   16. Bandage.
   17. Pay with tip.
   18. Put on sunglasses.
   19. Eat a waffle.
20.  Peek. It's still there.
 Jul 2014 Joel Emmanuel
Liam
a natural work of art
   unnaturally rearranged
delicate sensibilities
   under patterns of shadow

self-portrait of inertia
   depicting withdrawal
pursuit of recognition
   motionless in futility

muted colors of being
   imbalance in the spectrum
intrinsic inquisition
   casting quality of light

fruits of perseverance
   nourishment for survival
openness and acceptance
   creating spatial composition

flowers in heart's vase
   healing from suffering
light from obscurity
   still life with darkness
In every action,
grace.

In every word,
honesty.

In every thought,
purity.

In everything,
God in me.
My mantra.
Applause
Ten bars long
No pause
Swift swaying motion
Along the hook
Lit up hands clap
But don't echo
They'll sway
Passing by
Words of thought
Daily talk
Catch a few
Hear things so sad
Think of it's relativity
To you
But stop
Just stop  
That will be you
sad
The cycle will continue
Eating away
The happiness
Of now
And now
And now
And the few more hours
Maybe more
Stop a few
Daylight savings
Not back
Forward
Forward
It's going forward
Even an end
Pain towards
But it's happy
So happy
One year to go
The Blackbirds song
Shows up at my window  
To Escape
But dependent
Still dependant
So so dependant
Not on time
It's not you
It's a loan shark
Time
Toothpick falling
Moustache shaven
Foam falling on ground
In black and white
At the crumblings start
But no it's started
Moment of birth
No end till moment of death
Sleep breaks
Still up
Three am
Heavy breathing
On Time
So don't panic  
You have time
Lots of time
Twelve
Six
One
Zero
Don't think about zero
Zero
Don't think of the end
End time
Movement
Slicked up hair
Passing me by
A ghost
That still lives with me
But not yet
The lock will slip
You a ghost
Not yet
Not yet
Not yet

Half an hour later
Sitting at the banister
With tears
Funny noises
The Looks around
A Half a cup of tea
No sugar
Not an end  
Here's me
Not me
Really experimental style. Slightly inspired by "Not I" by Samuel Becket.
A stream of consciousness
ginko and tulip tree,
along the path.

walk to clear the mind.

further, there are
stepping stones.

walk to the stone,
glimpse black butterfly.

farm to the right,
distant sound.

the gate is locked
at five.



sbm.
you're a broken piece of glass,
and i want you to kiss me.
i want my lips to be scarred
with the way you felt against them.
i want them to bleed so they
shine red and the boy across the
hall will look at me,
because red lips will make me pretty.
right?
red lipstick and black and blue eyeliner
(because blood and bruises are
what makes me beautiful.)
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