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 Feb 2014 Artemis
Devon Leonel
Blademasters are we:
Circling each other, wary.
Two masters of our craft,
Skilled not in the art of cut and slash
But rather the parry and ******--
Leaving delicate but deadly wounds
Wherever we strike.
Circling closer,
Weapons sheathed, but ever wary.
From their homes at our hips
Our blades have sprung, just once,
And in the brief but furious interchange
Each dealt a wicked wound
Before returning to rest.
And yet, despite the pain,
Still we circle closer--
Weapons sheathed, but ever wary.
The circle closes until
Hands connect,
Feet move as one:
A graceful dance begins.
At such close range, any ******
Heralds grim death,
But we acknowledge danger--
Acknowledge, and disregard.
Blades silent at our sides,
Taking step after delicate step.
Weapons sheathed,
And slowly trusting.
 Feb 2014 Artemis
Joshua Samayoa
If our lives were just another test
Would we do better than the rest?
Some of us know the answer but we just guess
We know the answer can be right or just cause stress
We just take the easy way so we have to try less
So in the end we don't really know if we did our best.
Please try to preserve the sleepless innocence,
It shows the most trying of souls through shiftless inter-changables.
I beg for mercy from these woes,
For there are few others i can relate to these days!

As my body transforms,
And my body warps,
For once in my life
I anticipate the bitter cold!

And i’d rather not hear you speak such banter any longer,
For it is far too much to bare,
Especially in such times
Where both shoulder blades and ribs
Cave in on an aching pity of tirelessness–
Bloodshot eyes and arthritis
Aching from the forearms down.

Academia has yet to begin.
I wring my skin of an aching burn.
The body is weary and demands rest as i can expect it.
Coincidentally, demand is on the rise–
Or could it just be another ideology,
One that explains the universe to the mind?
Depriving the body teaches one how to survive…
 Feb 2014 Artemis
Boy Gaskell
One cold breeze flitters by,
Awake, a shiver rolls down.
Seeping through the ground,
Coated in many aspirers lie.

Abrupt to awaken an eye,
Gazing the half clearer image.
Soon greeted in holy light,
Fixated, gasp a lonelier sigh.

A shadow sweeps by up high,
Quickly to restore the blind.
Bones barely intact inside,
Reaching up seeking a sign.

A shrivelled tongue I do try,
Forcing out the air for words.
Eyes swelled, an anxious look,
Patience left to care the tide.

The blue air reflecting from the water,
Soon I arise to realise where I’d laid.
The minute grains, digging deeper,
Penetrating through my rough skin.

A slight wash for the ends of my toes,
Clearing the dirt further up my feet.
Soon my whole legs were glistening,
Shining like the pearls deep beneath.

With my head levelled I start to recall,
Visions for which I felt most alone.
I search my pocket to reveal a clue,
That night I spent burning in waste.

Shaking in disbelief, falsely accused,
The bluntness of my saviour’s truth.
The sea I think to dispose this guilt,
An addict never deserves his mercy.
 Feb 2014 Artemis
Jazzy Lake
I forgot to close the curtain last night
The bedroom is flooded with brightness
White walls and white sheets and your big t-shirt keeping me warm
It's the perfect sunday morning
The calm breeze pushes beyond the courtain
Enticing summer scents flow past my nose
I wish every morning was a sunday one
I roll onto my side to look at you, the light slowly rousing you to wakefulness
I press my cool cheek to the sleep-warmed skin of your bare back and curl my fingers through your hair
My eyelashes flutter on your smooth skin as I blink the sleep from my eyes
You can feel them, tickling you
Your delicate, kiss swolen, perfect lips curl
The softest of smiles plays across them
The corners of your eyes crinkle
And open,
Blearily, to look into mine
You scoop me into your warm arms and your fingertips are lazy
As they trace patterns down my spine,
Coaxing out my sigh I save specially for you
We breathe
Summer air together
Every mornings like a sunday one with you
 Feb 2014 Artemis
Pseudonym
At times I find myself wondering
if you remember the countless summer nights
spent under the pearl moon
and making love beneath diamond stars.
Intangible was the certainty that you'd soon be leaving.

When you were gone,
I'd find myself vigilant
of those same heavenly bodies that our own lusted under
and concluded their worthlessness in your absence.
 Feb 2014 Artemis
Balaguer
I am a leaf that just fell off the tip of your branch,
I am heading to where the wind takes me.
I have no direction.
I am the empty space besides the grave
of a dead one.
I am that waiting soul expecting death.
I am the roof of a house with no entrance or exit.
the ghost town no one wants to go to.
When you go to a farm,
you can find me with all the other grass.
I'm no different
every other man regrets deeply what he did
daily he deals with his affliction.
In a hospital,
I am the white paint on the wall
everyone looks at but doesn't touch or talk about.
My days past
now this memory is a song on repeat.
Inside of a house,
I am the garbage bag.
Everyone knows
but no one cares,
they throw me out at the end of every day.
I stand firm everyday
like the railings of a bed,
but this love is dying,
like the man with cancer inside his heart.
I am the bomb created by men
Having a time and day to go off.
Is it not true?
the heart bleeds
when trying to escape the dungeons of love?
Maybe,
I hope,
I'm going to wake up and light
what shall be the death of me,
I shall light
whats going to be my afterlife,
all because of you.
I will light a flame
But feel the burns on my body
the rest of my time
here on Earth
all because of your beautiful memory.
I'm not ok with your memory,
I cannot have you in my mind,
It's a torture for my soul.
I can feel the energy shoving my soul
out of my body
every single second
I think about you.

®*K.S
Written on ;     2  /  7  /  13
 Feb 2014 Artemis
Carl Stevenson
I’m sorry, I’m sorry.
The chorus of voices come from nowhere,
And lead me equally so,
I’m sorry, I’m sorry,
Apologizing for an unseen infraction,
Nothing is unforgivable.

Did it explode?
They keep walking, breaking glass.
No one around them can stop them.
Paying no attention to the pieces of broken glass,
They continue on their deadly masquerade,
With a malevolent soul supplying the masques.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry.
The chorus of voices return,
I’m sorry, I’m sorry,
Bringing more meaning to the racing thoughts.

Footsteps.
Paranoia.
The cicadas stop in an orchestrated silence.
Step. Step.
I’m alone. No one is there.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry
A dream? Is that what it is?
I’m sorry, I’m sorry.
Am I crazy?
Where are the answers?

I need to tell someone.
It is killing me.
I need to let people know.
What good is it, that the ones I need to tell, are yet the ones doing the killing?

I’m sorry, I’m sorry,
that the truth cannot be shown.
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