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 Jun 2013 Leila
JM
Nox
 Jun 2013 Leila
JM
Nox
***** water sky,
Trees dipped in ebony ink,
Night, my lover now.
 Jun 2013 Leila
Kendal Anne
I have often turned within my grave to ponder of the reason why
Upon the date of my birth, you took me to your secret hide

Underneath an aspen tree within the deadest of nights
You took to me like a moth to a ball of flickering light

With the devils own smile plastered upon your face and the slightest of hand
You produced a sanguineous jar of hearts and an ominous jar of black sand

You grasped my hands in your work enured and fairly calloused paws
Looked me in the eyes, and told me to forever leave my pale hands raw

"Never soil your untouched hands, your hands and eyes you shall avert'
"Never bruise, nor ever hurt, nor shall they be ever touched by dirt,

"Never touch a rose, nor touch a bee, as danger is an all you see,
"Close your eyes my little darling, and all of life shall be but a dream."

With the trust of a mothers child, I kept my eyes tightly squeezed
Wished upon the star within the midnight sky, wavering in the breeze

Held my hands up to my chest, hoping the fluttering and staggered slips
Not to be seen by your face within the light of moon as from the sun it dines and sips

Of a heart that had only once been given to me and should have forever stayed mine
But the greed inside all mens' hearts want, and reaches out to grasp a young new 'hind'

With another slight of those calloused hands, you took my life for your own pleasure
And stole what was rightfully derived as mine; a beating heart, you took your leisure

A working mind, once a clock, now fully had come to a skidding stop
You took my bones and my teeth and used them as a fertilizing crop

The very worst thing that you did, you took my pride when you took my skin
Shaved off clean with a diamond edged razor and worn as if you were mockeries twin

Burried underneath that beautiful aspen tree, I've been given the time to remold
But my life had been stolen, the soul forced out before the bells had tolled

In the time it had taken for my pieces to remold, I had realised something then and there;
There were always things that were meant to go untold, but the truth is ringing upon the open air

You wanted more than what was offered and had bitten off all you could chew
But if I'd known back then what I know now, I'd know real good men only come in few
We, as People,
shouldn't need to have Rights
to protect us from Business, Religion and Government;

Business, Religion and Government
should have Obligations
to us, as People.
Otherwise the system will balance itself
and many will suffer
(Maybe that's what they want)
(We created the Devil. We built our cage.)
The truest of Terrorists
in this our wretchedized World
will never be publicly labeled as such
for they are the ones
convincing all the others
that all the others
are the Terrorists.

You want to find the Terrorists?
Look in our buildings of Government;
the policy makers and enforcers:
politicians, judges, police, lawyers, lobbyists;
who are corporately sponsored
and/or backed by secret Societies
tend to be the ones
who most viciously violate Human Rights
through Fear, Prejudice, Violence and Ignorance,
(that is to say Demagoguery)
for personal gain
and that of their Clan.

That sounds like the truest of Terrorism to me.
Demagogue:
A political leader who creates and plays on popular prejudices and fears
to obtain, retain, and expand their power (and that of their colleagues, as well)
as opposed to using rational, logical arguments to establish what is truly best for the Public
Love seems to be my greatest test;
both in its presence
and it's absence;
it breaches me ,
and tests my mettle.

Look what Love has reduced me to:
I've cried so much my eyes are dry
and screamed so much my voice is gone;
I've slept and eaten so little that my limbs shake,
and I feel nauseous constantly
but I can't seem to do anything about it.
I writhe in pure anguish
at the thought of you
and what you've done while I changed for us.
at at same time as I am comforted
by the thought of you
and what we've been through, for us.

Such ironic torment.

Maybe once I've moved on
you'll be ready
and I'll be gone.

**** my life.
All is asunder.
All is ruin.

All can begin anew, yet
All I yearn for is what I've had.

**** THIS ANGUISH.
 Jun 2013 Leila
Ben
Lost My Way
 Jun 2013 Leila
Ben
Cult popularism overtakes my brain
Conformity rushing unwillingly, stiflingly, down my throat

The literature of the mind taken from me
By my own devices
The lure of the cliched mass' is oblivion
Fufillment of an expected mold
Individuality of thought drains away

May my overthinking of all be lost
In this teenage stereotype
Just thoughts on how when a shy individual, with all their quirks and whatnot, is tempted by the life of the 'popular' person, accepting usually means cutting away your more individual opinions and behaviour
 Jun 2013 Leila
René Mutumé
Just the upper torso
of dunes waving back to us
where we walk
all hymn: the sea, 7ish, and ourselves
the sun;
going slow
echoes of sea birds
tunnelling
above the sea
always
near home.
 Jun 2013 Leila
Timothy Brown
Bath
 Jun 2013 Leila
Timothy Brown
Dead skin soup
marination for the soul.
The longer it soaks, the more the skin droops.
More flavor for the porcelain bowl.
Seasoned with scrubs,  wash, and shampoo in the stoup.
Scrub hard, rise hot and watch the tainted drain down a black hole.
© June 5th, 2013 by Timothy Brown. All rights reserved
 Jun 2013 Leila
Third Eye Candy
your soul is
what tumbles
from your old youth;
toothless, mute -
and beautiful.
it disputes the diluted musical
that unfolds you...
proof-less, your lute
is full.

your soul is
where you twist rocks and fell from -
a great height, below your skin suit, dull.
it drew you
with resolute ink, with a needle
and spoon...
etched on the cuticle,
a portrait
of your
skull.

and
you're every
nebulous
moon.
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