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 Feb 2015 Luna Elora
Jamie King
It's been an honor. Thank you all for supporting me, teaching me how to be a poet I very much appreciate it but for now I have to be one with the wind.

I'll be back as soon my future is certain, education is as they say the path to all paths.

I love you all
Fellow poets until next time
 Feb 2015 Luna Elora
ryn
People cheat,
people lie

To get ahead
or
just to get by.

They do it out of deemed necessity
or
have made it a successful habit.

Some would feel bad,
but
some wouldn't lose sleep over it.

Some lie to protect...
Some lie to infect...

With little remorse
or
full blown guilt.

Either way
risking
all they've built.

A lie is an accessory
that most tend to abuse.
A convenient mask
for the ugly truth
that most would misuse.

Lies are...
The bane of relationships
Destroyer of trust...
Conveyed by irresponsible lips.

So have I ever lied?
Have I ever desecrated
honesty's pride?
Have I ever wielded it
to save others from harm?
Have I ever employed it
to boost my charm?

No I haven't,
now that's a lie...
Spouted that so easily,
I didn't even need to try...

Honestly,
YES I HAVE.
I am no exception...

I am no saint,
I'm only human
...
with an ill sense of direction.



I have lied...
How about you?

Search deep inside...
*You know you have too...
 Feb 2015 Luna Elora
SG Holter
So the doctor said her foot
Was broken.
Yes, I like a woman tough,
But it's been two months
Since it started hurting.
Suppose few things are as
Subjective as pain.

I rub my right hand when it's
Cold. The one I crushed
Between two containers.
Crane driver was still
Drunk from breakfast;  
Suppose few things are as
Subjective as responsibility.

We're all scars. Broken bones
And bruised hearts.
Embarrasing memories and
Bitten bullets.
Walking on broken feet until
They heal.

Suppose few things are as
Subjective as
Growth.
I.
You believe them. You tell them otherwise

II.
You write little post it notes, and catalog their promises
You make a calender and put your dates on it in red pen
You smile and expect to cross them out again

III.
You believe in their dreams, but you do not believe in their words
Even when you want to so badly that it hurts

IV.
You reason with yourself, and with them, and with your little red pen
That untruths are just as truthful as outright honesty,
Because honestly, deceit is pure
And who knows that they're lying when they're lying?
If they plan to follow through and say their lies as 'simple' truths
Or if they lie to you and then follow through
So is it really a lie? It's okay, you don't have to feel used

V.
You realize that you love them
Then you consider it more
And the more you think on it, the more that you're sure

VI.
Then days turn into a year, which is only seasons
And their promises become ever more few
Then the seasons break down into months, into days
Into hours

VII.
You're so lost in counting that you forget to fact check

VIII.
You believe them. Without the back of your mind screaming "justice!"
Without bothering to write it all down.
You hear them out, for the first time, and wonder if they ever lied at all
Or if you're just used to being lied to

IX.
And that's when your reality crumbles down
That's when you really love them but lose yourself
If the days you can't remember, and the time you can't forget
Coincide
Maybe there's some hope, a little, that everything was worth it
It's just a phase they went through
but you miss the lies

X.
Because when they tell you it's over
You realize it's the one thing you wish wasn't true.
 Feb 2015 Luna Elora
Chaos
For a minute
I actually thought I was okay
And then
I heard that song
The one we danced to
In the moonlight
Under the stars
At midnight
dancer of the clouds,
ink of dream,
as if the sky, hushed
and utterly forlorn,
turned a pirouette.
 Feb 2015 Luna Elora
Thomas EG
Crash
 Feb 2015 Luna Elora
Thomas EG
Uncertainty fills the air
And suddenly I'm not so sure.
Nostalgia begins to decay
But why?
Heavy, heavier...
I inhale and sigh with, what, exasperation?
Creation?
These are all mere distractions
To prevent myself from colliding
With myself,
With how I feel.
Emotional trauma, Part I -
Coming soon to a childhood near you!
We laugh it off
But it does not leave us.
Nothing can leave us
As easily as you walked away
That night.
I will not forget what I saw.
Engraved in my brain
Causing me to crumble
Tumble, tumble...
**Crash.
883

The Poets light but Lamps—
Themselves—go out—
The Wicks they stimulate—
If vital Light

Inhere as do the Suns—
Each Age a Lens
Disseminating their
Circumference—
A poem is like
A piece of wood.
It can be ripped,
Chopped,
Shaped,
Sanded for smoothness.
Sometimes you nail it;
And it can stick like glue.
You can drill a hole
Right through it,
It might bore one
Through you.
It can get under your skin.
But when it's cut
Against the grain,
It should be read again.
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