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 Feb 2015 Juniper Deel
Joe Cole
Traveling in the last hours of darkness
Down this long and dusty road
Looking up I see the moon so full
On her journey through the night

I want to leave my earth bound life
And on her take a ride
For she is traveling westward
And would take me to your side

I continue on my lonely way
The sound of road noise in my ears
But if I could ride upon that golden orb
It would wipe away the years

To ride the road of the milky way
To your side where I belong
No radio or CD playing
Just the sound of angels songs

Is it just a dream I'm dreaming
Or could it become reality
To be with you my own sweet love
Just us, just you, just me
You may not have been birthed in the soil,
and granted,
you will not blossom
when spring melts winters wake
but inside of you
grows a thousand gardens
full of exploding stars.
You are of the earth
and your ashes
have been constructed with stardust,
and set free with the wind.
So you may not have a pretty face,
and your body may hold stories
of too many moonless nights alone.
But if you reach inside,
you will find a forest
for a ribcage
and a restless ocean heart.
So don't ever let anyone tell you
you are nothing.
You are a galaxy
holding a million different planets,
and my dear,
that is not nothing.
Don't allow yourself to feel "dumb" or "stupid" based on your inability to achieve something you care little about.

-Joseph B Schneider
© Joseph B Schneider. All rights reserved
 Oct 2014 Juniper Deel
Lucy Marie
if home is where the heart is
then my home is that run-down movie theater
where we met up again-
the first time in almost a year that I saw your serpentine grin
and heard your heavy laugh;
the first time in almost a year that I felt your more-than-affable embrace.
the first time I ever felt your fragile lips.
I remember how you looked at me,
searched my eyes for a hint of emotion.
I remember how my face turned red,
PDA has never been my kind of thing.
I don’t like to be the center of anyone’s attention
and public places make me sick.
You could say my head’s a little broken
but that’s just the norm for me.
if home is where the heart is
I must be paying emotional rent
because some days, when I’m hungry for misery
I drive past that run-down movie theater
and drown in my memories
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