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 Jan 2015 Lexi Cairns
Diana Mae
You are a walking storm

You destroy everything

But in this mess I was born

So it was

So it will be

My everlasting destiny
 Jan 2015 Lexi Cairns
Daisy King
So, this is the poem that I will end up writing
when no other poem is willing to do the work.

This is the poem I write when I'm past not
being able to sleep and I'm beyond
even trying. This is born of body burnout.

This unfolds as I unpack myself from
bags beneath by eyes.This is an ugly poem
unfolding from ugliness.

In this poem, I'll make an ambiguous allusion
to someone who is missing. The kitchen
feels suddenly too small.

This may be one of a few kinds of resentful:
parental, psychosocial, rebel-without-a-cause sentimental
but the poem blames something for what it is.

This poem is to say I am not a talented poet.
I'm a poet with a stammer, a non-poet, speech impaired,
a poet with neither the rage nor the riot.

So this poem may even plagiarise, for
not even poets have measured how much
the heart can hold. -Zelda Fitzgerald.
This poem throws itself down the stairs.
It burns down the asylum with stolen words inside.

How do I urge this poem to do better?
I can't, I can only keep writing it.
Writing out my resentment, my restlessness.
Wretchedness, Wanting. I can even break
linguistic, grammatical and syntactical
regulations By capitalising some arbitra-
ry Words and messing with enjambewhatnow.

This poem has found a neologism.

In this poem I CAN RAISE MY VOICE
for my wanting, and then in the same poem
shut my voice into a music box
to leave on your nightstand.

This poem has managed a neat trick. Illusion?
Some rhetoric magic. Some see a rabbit appear from
nowhere. Others see a girl being sawed in half.
.
The best (- though, at what?) could see both
but know it's not really about that.
They know it's about appearing as something
that are you not and that's a craft in itself.

As I or this poem already told you,
I am  not a talented poet. I am just a girl
masquerading as someone she's not,
because she doesn't know what she is yet
or wants to be or could be, yet.

She and this poem may seem to have more
to them, to be even interesting,
but both are waiting for you to grow bored.
"
 Jan 2015 Lexi Cairns
Diana Mae
Give me

The stars (not in the sky)

I want

That perfect twinkle

In your eye

Give me

The sweetest honey

That lays gently

On your soft lips

Give me

The fastest steed

The thoughts that you think

That runs endlessly

Into my mind

Give me

The soft breeze

The kisses

on my cheek and neck

That sweet whisper

That warms my skin

Give me

The burning fire

That lays deep

Within your skin

That scorches me

Every time we meet

Give me this

And I shall give you mine

Everything I am

Everything I could be

Everything I should be

And

Everything I was

Love me

And

I

Shall love

You
In the mustardseed sun,
By full tilt river and switchback sea
  Where the cormorants scud,
In his house on stilts high among beaks
  And palavers of birds
This sandgrain day in the bent bay's grave
  He celebrates and spurns
His driftwood thirty-fifth wind turned age;
  Herons spire and spear.

  Under and round him go
Flounders, gulls, on their cold, dying trails,
  Doing what they are told,
Curlews aloud in the congered waves
  Work at their ways to death,
And the rhymer in the long tongued room,
  Who tolls his birthday bell,
Toils towards the ambush of his wounds;
  Herons, steeple stemmed, bless.

  In the thistledown fall,
He sings towards anguish; finches fly
  In the claw tracks of hawks
On a seizing sky; small fishes glide
  Through wynds and shells of drowned
Ship towns to pastures of otters. He
  In his slant, racking house
And the hewn coils of his trade perceives
  Herons walk in their shroud,

  The livelong river's robe
Of minnows wreathing around their prayer;
  And far at sea he knows,
Who slaves to his crouched, eternal end
  Under a serpent cloud,
Dolphins dive in their turnturtle dust,
  The rippled seals streak down
To **** and their own tide daubing blood
  Slides good in the sleek mouth.

  In a cavernous, swung
Wave's silence, wept white angelus knells.
  Thirty-five bells sing struck
On skull and scar where his loves lie wrecked,
  Steered by the falling stars.
And to-morrow weeps in a blind cage
  Terror will rage apart
Before chains break to a hammer flame
  And love unbolts the dark

  And freely he goes lost
In the unknown, famous light of great
  And fabulous, dear God.
Dark is a way and light is a place,
  Heaven that never was
Nor will be ever is always true,
  And, in that brambled void,
Plenty as blackberries in the woods
  The dead grow for His joy.

  There he might wander bare
With the spirits of the horseshoe bay
  Or the stars' seashore dead,
Marrow of eagles, the roots of whales
  And wishbones of wild geese,
With blessed, unborn God and His Ghost,
  And every soul His priest,
Gulled and chanter in young Heaven's fold
  Be at cloud quaking peace,

  But dark is a long way.
He, on the earth of the night, alone
  With all the living, prays,
Who knows the rocketing wind will blow
  The bones out of the hills,
And the scythed boulders bleed, and the last
  Rage shattered waters kick
Masts and fishes to the still quick starts,
  Faithlessly unto Him

  Who is the light of old
And air shaped Heaven where souls grow wild
  As horses in the foam:
Oh, let me midlife mourn by the shrined
  And druid herons' vows
The voyage to ruin I must run,
  Dawn ships clouted aground,
Yet, though I cry with tumbledown tongue,
  Count my blessings aloud:

  Four elements and five
Senses, and man a spirit in love
  Tangling through this spun slime
To his nimbus bell cool kingdom come
  And the lost, moonshine domes,
And the sea that hides his secret selves
  Deep in its black, base bones,
Lulling of spheres in the seashell flesh,
  And this last blessing most,

  That the closer I move
To death, one man through his sundered hulks,
  The louder the sun blooms
And the tusked, ramshackling sea exults;
  And every wave of the way
And gale I tackle, the whole world then,
  With more triumphant faith
That ever was since the world was said,
  Spins its morning of praise,

  I hear the bouncing hills
Grow larked and greener at berry brown
  Fall and the dew larks sing
Taller this thunderclap spring, and how
  More spanned with angles ride
The mansouled fiery islands! Oh,
  Holier then their eyes,
And my shining men no more alone
  As I sail out to die.
 Jan 2015 Lexi Cairns
ZWS
I remember feeling pain
When our hips were pressed together
Inseperable, like marriage vows
We moved together, like the words we spoke
With our bodies we were so much louder
And my head was crowded with the echoes
Your body was rippling in my memory
I felt you for centuries as we sat there barely moving
And I was looking into you, and you were looking into me
It was like when I looked at you I didn't need water or have the need to breath
We were so close in that moment that the next three days felt like I was wearing you as a sleeve
It was completely silent, not completely
I remember, I remember hearing your heart beat
I remember you were on top and I was underneath, and I remember you stopping and listening to everything I had to say, but you couldn't hear it over the sound of my heart beat
And your tan skin turned red
Your face did too, you looked into my eyes
And I turned blood red too
You grabbed my chest, I could feel your nails
A tear fleeted from the dark ring around your eye
and you breathed out, and I could hear the sighs from your body's cramped compassion and the feeling of your tightened thighs around mine
I could see your soul crumpled up into skin and bones that someone encapsulated you in to die
But you were alive, and everything you had felt that night, I was inside
And I will tell you these-
You are so critical
So pessimistic
So insensitive
So unfeeling

You're so disgusting!

How come you judge him?
He is one of a kind
Old soul, but young heart
Just like me

He is one in a million
And so deserving to be loved
By anybody

And you are just like them-
the ones who point their fingers to him
the society who always look by the eyes
and not by the heart and mind
no consideration
what you see is what you get

You are just one of the million...


critical people.
Just need to vent this time...
Hey Time,
just this once
could you do me a favor ?
maybe take the night off;
I can explain my disclaimer
you've just been moving so fast
& I want back what I came for
they say you go on without us
so what the hell do we stay for ?
it's like every single second
draws a line by my mouth
I'm not the type to sit and waste you
but I've seen the work that you're about
I'm not saying that I doubt you
but you're showing me no light
I sit in the dark surrounded by
your wisps & ticking every night
i'm frightened by you, Time
you give me no guidance
instead you torture my mind
& brightly blind me with defiance
you've tried to take what was mine
when your minutes started flying
I wasted a year ignoring that
& found the opposite of silence
So i'm begging you tonight
to hand me only what I came for
press your pause button, please
so I can slowly stop the pain
for just tonight
it's all I ask
a favor easily returned
you give me back my life
I promise you
my soul you will have earned
to waste is not tasteful
It's cold outside
but I refuse to go in
the moonlight gets me high
and the wind coats my skin
with a presence
a present
i'm presently in
i'd like to forget you sometimes
but the stars
outline your bends  
and I defend my every whim
with uncertainty i'm sure
I don't know what you think about
with spells I burn your thoughts of her
I stay unsure
I am not yours
sometimes I sleep through dreams I was
some nights I fight a tired mind
& wake up screaming, just because
I do not know
I will not know
until you open up your mouth
until we're standing chest to chest
like this I'm doomed to leave the south
1:18am
 Jan 2015 Lexi Cairns
PrttyBrd
This poem has been submitted for possible publication.  It will be reposted as soon as possible upon final determination.  Please feel free to peruse my poesy at your leisure.

Thank you so much,
PrttyBrd
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