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 Nov 2015 J M Surgent
Sarah
I watched you
spiraling like
falling
confetti, resisting
hitting the
ground
in a chaotic
dance, the bats
of origami

I'm not sure if you know this,
or if I've ever said it-
and I'm honestly
not sure what
you know,
but

after the party
when the candles all
burnt out
and you were
sweating out
the belief you're
not enough,
I was sitting in
a rickety-old-fold-up-chair
tapping my foot,
thinking of telling
you that
you are enough,
you're celebratory confetti,
a thousand sprinkles of
abstract shapes
hard edges
inexplainable
indescribable
unrepairable

and after every show,
every party,
after
every means of celebration
where the balloons might be
released and where
the blow horns might
sound,
I want it all
to be with you,
we can't conquer the world,
but
we'll sure as hell
confetti the
ground.
LIFE, full of ups and downs. LIFE, smiles, frowns. LIFE
Oh what a fight, push shove duck Dodge.

Miss count dance prounce, Oh what a fight.

Bob Weave trick up my sleeve, Oh what a fight.

Toss turn ive awaken, It was just a dream But, Oh what a fight.
I love to dream.
Lights on, search lights on to find what I need.

Look, look even in a book,
Not there wont you have a look.

Lost but not found taken by sum crook,
When it was what it was I often took a look.
                                                           ­                               My eyes filled with tears memories,

Passed thru hand an hand the picture of you was what they took.
Precious memories even in a photo a picture says many words.
Sing bird sing, Sing your song so sweet.

Oh, but not a peep.

Meet me by the weeping willow tree, And you will see.

Mama bird had fallen far from her tree.

The singing bird had lost his song.
Gone But Not Forgotten
 Dec 2014 J M Surgent
F White
like ******* crumbs you're
still on my tongue the
stomach ache I can't
escape

the old haunt I missed
before ever stepping through the
door

the scrape on my knee ghost
of which still stings

and for a while still,

I  may cry at normal
things.
copyright fhw, 2014
 Dec 2014 J M Surgent
bcg poetry
You're gone and no amount of music will bring you back to me.
 Apr 2014 J M Surgent
WCA
For you.
 Apr 2014 J M Surgent
WCA
I wrote this for you a long time ago on a coffee stained napkin, after you left me, full of love, lingering in a cafe.

"For you, in all your follies and faults and the way they make you so perfect for me.
For you, in the moments that linger in the vehemently insignificant corners and corridors of things, as if drifted of their own grandure.
For you, for the words that spill to the floor and the brilliant way you understand the deafening silence that follows.
For you, for your supernovas and clever shades, for your daylight smiles and nighttime skins.
For you, for your familiarity and the impossible truths that stand as martyrs to say that I have loved you before.
For you, despite the treachery and quiet sinister fun of the world.
For you, for making me so terribly scared of dying."
Yet here I am, in your wake, so full of so many thoughts and demons. Know that I have died, that I have loved and lost with equal measure.
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