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 Jul 2013 Lizabeth
Hana Gabrielle
I loved the silliness
the secrets
and the penny paid thoughts

but all I dream about when sleep comes
is the thirsty selfishness
and I'm caught
between nightmares
and daydreams
in between
brutal introversion
and broken seams

tired of your consistent inconsistencies
and your forgetful debt
to false threats
of answered prayers
Hitting the eject
I get the hell away from here
and parachute into one more beer, a tonic at the end of a day when the shimmering heat in your eyes make you sway.
...and what would I say to another one?
I'd say, 'go on, a beer won't hurt'
the barman butts in,
but I,
being curt
ignore him and take a seat in the 'snug'
which as you may know is the one room in a pub where you can hug a pint all night long.
It is not too long and then the barman walks in with another pint of beer and a very dry gin,
he hands me the pint which I could not refuse
then settles himself down to tell me what's new in the news
and I let him sit in with his gin, and begin to think, I should not have come here, even though the beer is on draught,the barman's daft
and I get no peace
there is no release from the rigours of the day
I say to the barman,
'goodnight jack'
But I won't be back.
until I'm thirsty at sixty or sixty at six thirty..and I've enough of the alcohol stuff anyway.
 Jul 2013 Lizabeth
Robyn
Everything's
Ripped paper and
Damp cheeks
I think I loved you cause
Your whole body shrieks
"I'm alone"

Everything's
Sparkly lace and
Blonde hair
Brunettes don't belong anywhere
In a world that screams sunshine but
Really means nighttime and
My time is crying to God

Is there a way
To get away
From a world that is dying to say
"You're not enough"

Everything's
Romance
****** and lust
I'd run away but
My bike's caked with rust
So I'm stuck

Everything's
Lovely ladies gone wrong
I used to be silent
Til I wrote this song
When everything's ***, drugs and money
Will God break a twenty
While everything slowly erodes

Can I be free?
Will I ever be me?
Stuck in a world that is trying to be
Someone else
I'm ******* at song writing, oddly enough. This is my attempt at a song, but I have no music.
the clouds bloom
like mysterious flowers
seeming  to survive by soaking up
the tears of the waiting multitude.
they churn the wind
causing it to blow through
my every cell
filtering through my every pore
as i abandon any hope
of maintaining some adult-like dignity
the puddles call
the rain falls
and i let myself go

- Vijayalakshmi Harish
   10.07.2013
   Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
Could the blurry whispers of kids
really grow into something so great?

The things I said
when a freshman
a freshman!
Armed with idealism and tough fists
but not a lot of anything else-
they shape me
like a slave whip
cutting my back and making it bleed
places I still can't go
people who I can't handle
so much

It built up
and it pours out my lips
stale and rotten
but strong woven
like a vine that rests on the bottom of the swamp
always waiting to snap
A wish upon the clock
Is the martyr of hope
Change is an action
Most end with no
If only I could hold on
One more day, in the life
Of those who can’t die

Another day awake
The whispers on my chest
Are now the voices in my head
Lipstick stains on the mirror
Mock a hearts vanity
To return to a shape
Never known to the mind

Will the blind find light
Before wrong becomes right
And I can find my home

Among the dead and broken
My heart will become whole

Among the anger and spite
My decisions become simple

Seal your fate and grab my hand
If only it wasn't my hand
I could pull myself out
And forget the rain
 Jul 2013 Lizabeth
Harry J Baxter
the morning after
the sun sneaking through the blinds
naked and hungover
but not caring
because you were naked too
I know this because
while you were sleeping
I took a cheeky peek under the covers
I sleep with a body pillow
but waking up,
my arm around the real thing,
kicks the hell out of any pillow
and your hair was messy
i liked that, but knew you wouldn't
so I tucked it behind your ear
you letting out a breathy sigh
and I could tell you were smiling
by how your cheek bones raised
you playing footsie with me
and smiling
and ******* on my thumb
was an ego boost
because sober you
wasn't freaking the hell out
trying to find a way out of that stranger's attic bedroom
and we kissed
made out
and other stuff
which gentlemen don't talk about
and you got up to get dressed
standing naked trying to find your *******
me in bed saying
"stay in bed for a while longer
that plane to California
ain't going nowhere"
and you said
"yes it it,
it's going to California"
I knew that
but your *** looked great
pulling on those cut off denim shorts
but you had to go
and so did I
and I know *** is supposed to be for the mature
but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't
singing that entire ride home
"I GOT LAID LAST NIGHT!"
like a kid hyped up and hopped up on Halloween candy
It's nice being called "Good Morning"
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