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 Oct 2013 Jules Wilson
berry
if you ever buy me a coffee mug
know that it will become my favorite,
and that i will use it faithfully every day.

but understand, if you ever decide to leave,
i will tell you through gritted teeth
that i never liked it anyway.

i will tell you out of spite that i shattered it,
but that coffee mug will remain in tact,
and collect dust in a corner until you come back.

if you never do, i won't ever use that mug again,
instead i'll fill it with paper clips & pens
and try not to remember that you gave it to me.

- m.f.
 Oct 2013 Jules Wilson
emily
so it would seem that we have both been yearning, the eager entanglement of our loose limbs leaves me just a little drunk, forgive me for my clumsy fingers & breathless gasps.  i am dizzy with the weight of your lips, kissing me tongue-deep, awash in your scent & splendor.  i cannot get enough of you, now that you dared tell me you loved me beneath the starry-eyed blanket of nightfall, clasped in your radiant warmth & body heat, while the wild things sang.  here, intertwined within a mess of quilts, we are learning each other’s flawed perfection.  i do not apologize for my soft stomach or the sea of scars laddering my legs, & you breathe that i am beautiful.  there is no cocktail of chemicals beating through my blood tonight, only the weight of your body on my body & the poetry of us.
 Oct 2013 Jules Wilson
AJ
Aaaaah
 Oct 2013 Jules Wilson
AJ
I was going to write this poem
On anxieties and procrastination.
But then I decided to write it later.
But that really freaked me out.
So here it is.
I miss raw cookie dough and soft pajamas
and take-out boxes overturned on the couch
Lord of the Rings playing in the background
inaudible over our chatter

I miss sweaters and boots in Fall
crispness resonating in our senses
brown, sienna, and crimson Fall
the promise of the season
is rosy in our cheeks
just a camera and a forest,
with my beautiful best friend.

"Do you want to go shopping?" I say,
"we'll buy something nice,
get dolled up and do something spontaneous."
"i want to go on an adventure.
like bilbo and the dwarves
and we won't brush our hair for days."

"All of them, and more," she'd say.
"I'll go wherever you go."

My best friend is not an indie record or a mall trip
she is as vast and unwavering as the sea
and I'll go wherever she goes

Behind the windowsill I can't tell
if her lovely hair is white silk
or lands on her shoulders in black tendrils
does she like her body shape?
is she happy with her mother?
whatever she is,
whatever she's meant to be,
i miss her.

Crazy, selfish girl,
8 billion people on this earth
and none of them
are good enough for you, girl?
how can you claim to miss
what you never had?

My best friend is a feeling
I had one windy afternoon
I catch her in my fingers
and let her blow away
 Sep 2013 Jules Wilson
dean
you stopped caring about yourself around the same time that
she stopped fighting, which is
to say circa 1977, when president
jimmy carter asked you to turn down your heat, wear
a sweater, and you still trusted that things could change
so you wore two and shut your heat
off. she was no longer the beauty you married circa 1960, which is
to say she let herself go, which is to
say that you'd never loved her more.

now you're dead and she doesn't even
know it, but here i am getting ahead of myself again
and here you are hiding in the ground. i'm asking you to wake
up and you tell me no for the first time. your eyes stay shut.
now you're dead.

you finally gave up on keeping her home circa
2011, and you institutionalized her, and nothing had ever
hurt more. you stayed home alone. you
went to church. you visited her every day, and you prayed,
and nothing ever changed.

you went to the doctor. you died. you got cancer.
those aren't in the right order but you know
the story by
now. you can sort it
out.

you left me and i never even wrote that thank-you card that i thought about
for years, but i promise, i thought about it. i thought about
you.

here she is alone, here she is
trapped in her mind, here she is forgetting
you while you love her, here you are
six feet under, you silly goose. come home, we miss
you. come home, there's kolbas and solina and anything you
want. come home and maybe she'll remember
and maybe she won't
and maybe she's been dead since circa 1990
and maybe it's your turn now.

what's worse than the cancer - "everywhere",
as they put it, was the look on your
face when you told us about your 52nd anniversary. you
gave her a card and she looked at it for a moment, then handed it back to
you. they say she doesn't communicate with anyone anymore.
i think it's killing both of you.

i never wrote you a thank-you
note. i wrote you a eulogy three weeks before
you died. i brought cake but you're dead,
i cried for a week but you're dead.
i'm still crying. you're still dead.

i wonder if she remembers you at all.
this is a reworking of "you", which i published a few months ago. i've been considering doing open mics with my poetry and i'm stuck between reciting this version of "you" or "my heart's the same" (also on this account, a few entries back).

if you have a suggestion as to which i should perform, or any thoughts on the changes i've made to "you" (now "körülbelül" - 'circa' in hungarian - not completely sold on the title but i'm uncertain about using the title "you" in a public context), or even just comments on this poem alone, i'd really really really love to hear them.

please?

EDIT: ******* this thing is trending and i FORGOT TO PROOFREAD IT. please don't judge me for my typos.
 Aug 2013 Jules Wilson
Dissent
1.  If it doesn't take place at 4 in the morning, immediately change the setting.
2. You should center all your work. Centering makes the piece unique and improves readability.
3. You should invoke the idea of The Mask. Paul Laurence Dunbar didn't do it well enough.
4. One word lines improve readability and do a great job of making emphasis. Use them a lot.
5. On the other hand, really long lines explain points wonderfully. Feel free to be essentially prosaic.
6. The subject should be obvious and everyday, that way everyone can easily understand what you're trying to say. Subtext is dated.
7. Confessions and heartbreak are unique to you.
8. Not editing makes the work extremely human and relatable.
9. Emoticons and the ilk are the cutting edge of the English language. Feel free to use them without reservation.
10. Rhyme scheme doesn't need meter.
11. Making a word into waterfall letters tells the reader you're falling apart (See #3).
12. Journals, diaries, blogs and Tumblr are old news when it comes to venting. Write an angry poem about your day instead.
13. You're probably going mad according to the DSM-5. Definitely write about that.
State of the union.

THIS IS SATIRE.
 Aug 2013 Jules Wilson
marie
the first and second songs were beautiful ones
melodious and calming ones
about the beauty of nature
and how it does nothing yet so much
how it seems so dull yet beautiful
just like your eyes

the third song was an upbeat song
the kind of tunes that all would dance to
repetitive choruses and long instrumentals
like a circle, they remind me of your
so very long patience on things

the fourth song
was a song filled with raps and curses
talking about injustice and yet
it talks about *** and enjoying it
somehow however, it was nice to listen to
just like you when you get irritated
and yet, find happiness in the
little, irritating things

the fifth song was a song of nonsense
completely irrational
very messy
like paint splattered all over
a white wall
and yet so desirable
just like your smile
that you throw around
to everyone you see

you always thought the number six was
the devil's number
and found it cool
so i placed a song that makes people feel good about themselves
a song that was 'cool'
which was just like how you perceived yourself as
like how you always thought you were cool
and told me with a grin
and i always disagreed
with a little stupid smile of my own

the number seven was a special number to us
our common best friend's jersey number
your class number
my score in a two consecutive math quizzes
our little specialnumber
so i placed our song
a special song that you let me hear
after you heard me sing and said
"you have a nice voice, i think
this song would suit it."

i can never forget that song
so i have it on my mixtape too

you disliked the number eight
for some odd reason
which did not bother me
so i placed a song that irritated you
but made me happy
just to spite you
and to see you get flustered and ******
all at once like no one could
because i like
having you tell me everything you feel
like i do to you

number nine reminded you of
things that were ***** and pretty
so i placed a sensual song
that talked about a guy not deserving
his female admirer
who wanted to love him badly
physically and emotionally
because he did too
a song that was pure guitar
pure voice and soul
and raw emotions
that i believe would make you want to
sing along to it as well
like i do

the tenth song was a sad song
because once you failed a math quiz
with a mark of ten out of twenty
the same score as mine
but i didn't place a song that we both know
a song we both decided on
that was sad
no, instead
i put a song that i knew
but you didn't
which i believed was sadder
because it was like
how you treated me after
i gave you that letter
and made me sad
like this song

the eleventh and twelfth songs were made as one
but had to be cut off due to its length
it talked about a boy who wanted nothing more
than to keep the one he loved all to himself
a boy that flew
and crashed
for a girl that never knew

just like me
when i wanted nothing more
than to send you this mixtape
and have you say to me
a simple "thank you"

or maybe even
a little wishful
*"i love you too."
 Aug 2013 Jules Wilson
Diab did
I hate that corner,
Where i just sat there and tried to solve problems and think too much thought i had the worst life ever.

I hate that corner,
Where i just sat there and smoked dope sought the fun of the darkness and run away of the reality.

I hate that corner,
Where i just sat there and cried thought am lonely and everyone hates me

I hate that corner,
Where i just sat there and lost myself between the hell and the evil sea drawing to the deepest point where the worst is.

I hate that corner,
Where i just sat there and hated myself and people, thought thats the only point i can get.

I hate that corner,
Where i just sat there and forgot how to love the people who were and are there for me, thought no one is there.

I hate that corner,
Where i just sat there and kissed the pipe all the time thought thats the only friend i got.

I hate that corner,
Where i just sat there and refused to pray thought there's no GOD.

I hate that corner,
Where i just sat there and filled my heart of hatred thought theres nothing good left.

I hate that corner,
Where i just sat there and taught myself how to lie, thought that was the only way to hide my flaws and mistakes.

I really hate it, i don't know how i got there, i didn't know what i was doing, they were telling me, but i didn't believe them or maybe i did but i couldn't get up.

I hope its not too late to get up and move, i hope i still have the same people i loved before i sat there, i hope i didn't loose many, but actually i did.

I hope you and i don't go and set there one day unless we're setting there with our loved ones kissing each other and having a good time.

I hope you forgive me, you forgave me a lot, i just realized that, but please if you still care and like me, just give me the chance to prove that.

And now am setting in the same corner, staring at the window, looking at the sky, filling my self with faith and hopes, enjoying birds tweets that i missed, the butterflies that i didn't see, the sun that didn't burn me and the moon that i enjoyed looking at and dream.

I'm up now.
GOD bless you all.
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