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 Jan 2013 Jurgen
Sarah LeMarier
As I come in from a long day of nonsense I greet you,
"Hello Baby, How was your day?"

You don't even leave the other room and mumble "terrible"

I walk into the room and your back is to me.
You don't even look at me as your playing your game.

You purse your lips for a kiss not moving your eyes off the screen.

I wish this rarely happened
It's happens almost every day.

Even if you have a good day you barely look my way.

You might have a minute to spare if there is something on TV
You sit right next to me. We don't talk much.

The next show that comes on you don't like it and nothing else will please you.

Away  you go with a short goodbye.
And you run back to your computer the technical mistress with the wicked hold.

I tire of waiting for your return and get sleepy and lonely even though your only a room away.  

"Goodnight darling" I say head upstairs
"I was just coming back!" But you don't even turn your head to look my way.

I don't believe you anyway and I am tired of begging for a little bit of your time.
 Feb 2012 Jurgen
Sarah LeMarier
Cat and mouse you say.

That is how we play.

Night after night.

I fear nothing but I fear breaking you.
I am breaking through.

You say I am really a piece of work.

You only want to want me like no one before.

But I won't let you have this hazy dream.

Your anger surprises me as if I didn't already know.
We are never going to be more then you let us be.

I grow tired of the games.

I just want safety in which to let my heart go.

Your sickened by the thought of how much with love my heart grows for him.
He always wins because he knows how to be here.

It's not my fault this scared you and you can't help but run away.

I will never be any other way.

Yes the thoughts of us  are sweeter then anything I have ever known.
But they have become hazy like a dream.

You can't put me on the shelf to play with when you get home like your favorite toy.

I care too much and I dream out loud.

The softer side of you has me twisted around your little finger.

But it's not enough, we both know it's never enough.

Your not real to me anymore.

And this toy heart of yours fades to black when your so far away.
The shop is closed and there is nothing left to say.
 Jan 2012 Jurgen
KM Jones
I'm ready to run into open arms and be held,
but I'm beginning to fear that I need someone to hold me.

Perhaps I'm simply afraid of wasting away in empty rooms when I'd rather be bathing in the embrace of a beautiful boy.

I think being alone will be beautiful but not here, not now.

I just want to feel raw youth and untamed beauty racing through my veins.
I long to be inspired, to be unfiltered inspiration in the hands of another.

...

I don't want to write of romances; I want to live them.

(Nov 2008)
 Jan 2012 Jurgen
KM Jones
burials
 Jan 2012 Jurgen
KM Jones
tell me everything is going to be alright when he cries.



pat my shoulder. squeeze my hand.
sit by my side.



give me the strength.


the strength not to cry.
the strength to tell him everything will be alright.
you are the soothing hum
the grass stains on my jeans
the summer in my hair
the color in my cheeks
you are the the constant wave
beating against my heart
the warm honey on my lips
the paint on my nails
you are the perfect dance
and a moonlit ride
the sticky vanilla cream
you are the flower in my palm
the reason I smile
the chills down my spine
you are more than you'll ever know
you are the love of my life
 Jan 2012 Jurgen
K Balachandran
the night
had many eyes,
and spoke
in sounds that
a kid would be
interested.

the boy was
fascinated
by the secrets
of night.
but they told:
"don't keep awake
or look through
the window glass
you would hear
frightening voices,
and  animal sounds
of many kind.
                        ghosts,
                        wan­der
                       at night.
so, sleep
safe under bed sheets
but night
the enticing witch,
with long dark hair
that cover pretty much everything,
came near the window
and asked
"why don't you
open  the window
and see my garden
full of magical flowers"

the stars were happy
to see the child's face
they smiled,
night
looked happy in this turn,
they spoke in a tongue
understood by one another.

the boy was happy that he has nailed the lie.

"they said, you aren't nice,
eat kids,
i don't believe that now.
they don't know a thing
i love night sounds;
so soothing
like mother's heart beat"

the kid loved to
sleep near mother
listening to the beats
of her heart.
but  they said,
it was bad, he has to sleep
alone, even if he wets bed.

Then
he heard the ghosts speak
in gobbledygook
that  made him
uneasy and confused
when listened
it sounded like the
squeak of the moving  bed.
                             to the edge
                              of the room,
                              he tip-toed,
                              and peeped in
                             through the half closed door.


" a secret world was opened
in front of my eyes"
he later remembered
though the significance
then eluded him.

there was a dreamy light in the room.

two figures, clothes shed,
were in bed,
trying to overpower each other,
with a kind of ***** greed,
that was all he could then think,

then the scene became tense,
one got up on the other,
trying to get in to it,
"ghosts! they eat each other"
the boy thought with disgust.

he tip-toed back
to his bed,
and pretended dead,
to avoid the eye of ghosts,
as he was admonished,


and went to sleep,
to the tune of the lullaby,
the bed moving in unison,  created.
                  OOO
 Jan 2012 Jurgen
martin
Along the winding road of life
We travel a long, long way
But nothing  lasts for ever
Die we must one day

Some day we all will disappear
No longer to exist
For death's a bit like chocolate
It's useless to resist

If life's a gift it's a borrowed one
Which needs to be returned
But if there is an afterlife
Let's hope we take along with us
The lessons that we've learned
no notes
 Jan 2012 Jurgen
Gabrielle Diaz
And now we just pretend,
you never said,
those words.
 Jan 2012 Jurgen
JK Cabresos
Laments of sadness
in the middle of serene nights,
fragmented hearts
wrangle scrambled minds;

shadowed mistakes, open wounds,
profound mysteries of once reality,
myriad eyes failed to perceive
the intrinsic meaning of a poetry;

arbitrary decisions can lead
loud confusions to imprint,
but an ink of a poet's pen
evokes concealed feelings.
-Lhordyx
© January 17, 2012 (2:31 a.m.)
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