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 Jan 2012 Linaji
Mike Arms
Drinking like savannah beasts at rivers edge she
is left to ferment
lethal like wine in an hourglass

she denies death and is weaponized
she defies god and is made a woman
she aims and in doing perfect harm is made

stricken with regret your running target stems
consequences whose stomach is filled by feather
memorials bound by leather turmoil

Shells in my face says Henry the eighth and Rome
will burn gladly on
a nest of Palestinian violins
This is my take on some couplets Matthew Hill and I traded .
 Nov 2011 Linaji
Waverly
As long as it doesn't affect me;
as long as it's not immediately relevant
and something I have to immediately worry about;
as long as it doesn't **** up
my credit score
or my
shiny
new
house
then,
**** it.

And
*******,
for bringing it to my attention.

how dare you.

this was promised to me,
it's predestined,
my two-story, three bedroom, two bath; the foreign workmanship and american artifice; the creamy halo of vinyl in the sun; the wrath of windexed windows and their hard missiles of bright, reflected sunlight; the soft lips of my children; my wife's pillowy, warm stomach and scratchy *****; our retriever that eats his own ****, picking apart tiny specks of feces from the sun-pricked tips of our rug of fescue; these are the works of God, this is the land of God. You are marring this flat earth
 Nov 2011 Linaji
John Mahoney
i have come to discern
a great breach
a chasm that stands
between
apprehension of the world
and the world
itself

like some character
in a play by Chekhov,
perpetually seeking answers
yet, offering no
truths...
as an eternal madness, a seeking,
ever seeking, yet
accomplishing neither end nor
resolution

a tune, played almost to
conclusion,
missing that final chord,
so that we see, that life has,
tampered...

(as grief enters, stage right)
"line please..."
 Nov 2011 Linaji
K Balachandran
Cage
the road rage;
be a Gandhi
behind the wheels.
 Nov 2011 Linaji
jeremy wyatt
She lies still her eyes so black
confusion whispers under her breath
she is trying to will the cobwebs away
while memories blister dry and fade

"Are you my husband?" for the third time this shift
breathing quietly I stand and speak
tell he is long dead and gone
honesty counts when all is said and done

Will she cry out loud this time and yell
an angry shout for the truth I tell
she ponders with a relieved smile
"I'm glad" she says "the ******* gave me fifty years of hell"
 Nov 2011 Linaji
Alan McClure
After the fifty-seven-trillionth year
of my damnation,
I couldn't even remember
what had been so great
about my neighbour's ox.
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