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 Dec 2012 L Curley
John
Her hips sway
In tune
With the way
Her hair flows
I told her
"Hop on my motorcycle,"
And it scares me
Because she didn't think twice

She pulls my helmet on
And turns into a thief
Gritty snatcher of hearts
Never knew she could play that part
Never knew her from the start
Never knew she could steal my heart

Riding high on the interstate
Wind whips by
And it's never too late
She assures me
With the voice
Of an angel seeing
God for the first time
Where in another dimension
Where stuck in beautiful suspension

Never had nowhere to go
She gives me purpose
Tells me when I'm going to slow
But she's always been way too fast
Like an animal
I'm not sure if I'll last
But I soak it in like a sponge
Stuck to the dashboard
Having so much fun
Kissing the hellish surface of the Sun
I wonder if I'll ever know if I won
I wonder if I'll ever know if I won
Been listening to tons and tons of 50's and 60's music lately. This was inspired by the beautiful tunes of that time.
 Dec 2012 L Curley
BarelyABard
Let the sweat drip down your brow.
Never again. Never again.
Turn your eyes up to me now.
Always will.
I Always will.
I wrap the flames around my chest.
Keep them tight.
Fill me with light.
The ugly side of me ceaselessly caressed.
The pawn, he moves.
The knight, he takes his chance.
The queen strikes a deadly blow.
The bishop slips quietly out the door.
They stare into me, unaware of what appears.
"Do you think I enjoy finding difficulty in caring for you or myself? A hell that I am glad you cannot comprehend."
Indeed, he has a heart.
Locked away in a place no mortal shadow will ever find.
Until it is set free.
The sun moves in it's preordained path.
Never questions.
Never wonders.
Never dreams. Never laughs.
The ocean lives forever under the sun and the moon.
Endless life from endless strife.
Would we still live if the sun and the sea could feel?
Pain and anger? Loyalty and love?
Humanity would be burned and buried under its own hatred and avarice.
His heart in the cage is not a crime.
He still feels pain.
He still laughs and smiles.
But it will not consume him whole
until he reaches in his soul
and fills that empty hole
with the hand that haunts his dreams.
to prove that nothing's how it seems...
we are all and we are none.
we are moon and we are sun.
we are one.
 Dec 2012 L Curley
Paul Goring
Close
 Dec 2012 L Curley
Paul Goring
A myriad
of subtle stuff
a deep and long sigh
a strangely
well chosen tune
considering his history
the right wine
(full bloodied)
in the right light
(half)
with the right aroma
(lavender and ocean)
And view
(a sunset)
With sounds and sights
(gulls and grasses)
and the touch of
thick well worn cotton
culminating in a memory
I keep close
 Dec 2012 L Curley
Brycical
What a sweet/savory masterpiece!
Always thought I would ask
for lobster as my last meal*
but your juicy succulence
touched my stomach
in naughty places
and now I cannot stop thinking of you!

I think it goes without saying
that you're the best tasting burger on the planet
despite the fact that I have yet to try
all the burgers on the planet.
*should I find myself in a situation that allows me the ability to ask for one.
I taste rapture in your lips & feel nirvana flood our spines.

A stack of bone lit fire & this day ends, today I should try,
to see into the future,
something waits for you inside, reach in & find your comfort.
Drink heavy & dance, a warm nose carving mistakes into your once supple face.

Leave it alone & cry. Leave it alone for my sake.
Call me from the basement's line.

Save the words

& a change of tone.

a change of pace.

_Oh, dear gods,

we came so close & stand so far,
from that glorious fountain,
from that glorious superstructure of
love & tainted fate.

Stay close & I'll recite gorgeous tales of defeat.
I will
paint your face with the shame of those forgotten,
not in a lonely way
& this is not
the only way to stop these rhymes
of

once again

hearts torn,

one heart torn, turning forever
sleeping on the floor,
wishing your blood flowed through me.

open veins to shreds.
grab me, taste me.
bound by chains.

once undone,
these thoughts shouldn't be should so heavy,
moving my fingers in time with you.

whisper, oh I'm crazy.

But in this world,
in this
dear,
sweet
perfect world,
where you & I
sit
& sing
& commit your face to memory.
Holding on to you.
in you, my flame burns bright,
this pace grows dark as the wet woods cry in rhythm,
thinking of me,
old,
their hearts still racing for me.
their souls transport all loss &
their souls transports heat.

If only I was your source.

If I was your only source,
of light

of shadow & pain

of a perfect metronomic

never ending sometimes;

you'd pass happy.
you'd know defeat,
victory & all forms in between.

& looking back I sense there are words sealed tight,
dates forgotten & stories sans ink.
sometimes,
oh my sweet beautiful muse.
There is a shadow & there is a child
& there is a window
& there is a lord to call upon
when nightmares grab tight
& bullets fly close to this heart
desperation glides across these strings
& a voice is born,
snuffed,
buried
& forgotten in all but me.
killing the self,
waiting for the bars to bend
& waiting for the structure to dissolve.

A ghetto grown & producing
infinite
words &
mistakes.

Clear up my past,
discontinue
& continue to
work on these studies,
take all in stride,
a slow,
pain filled walk.

As mentioned, we came so far,
so close
& retired our passions.

So we ask
how do we die?

& when will we know?

& this change of tone brings

a change of pace.

I feel alive,
I behold what's in it,
what's grabbing
& shaking my soul,
which is,
listening to this power.
Tragedy
 Dec 2012 L Curley
Emily Rogan
With the sweet melancholy of time
comes the beautiful notion of nostalgia.
We grasp moments of shared joy and freedom-
beacons of hope that forever altered our souls.
And with such recollection
we finally fathom the value of those around us.
And we realize
it is our souls who must surrender
when our bodies are broken and worn.
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