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 Sep 2018 M Clement
BarelyABard
I will die,
but what am I?

There are footprints in the dust
behind me,
for a breath of seconds,
the span of decades.
They fade to breeze,
like echoes of a nameless lullaby.

I gaze at my hands.
The veins shrivel,
muscles deteriorate,
bones crumble.
In the minute vastness,
I see a reflection,
distorted by mortal
destruction.

I push forward.
Daunting truths
reverberating,
like hymnals.
My steps will,
one day,
cease leaving marks and
become part of
the dirt.

In a space of unlimited
light and sound,
What am I?

“Your existence is a burgeoning leaf,
growing and breathing
to change with the passing of seasons
and one day…
Let go.
Carried by the wind
to destinations unknown."


In a sea of vibrations and
energy,
what am I?

"Moonlight in a shadowed forest.
Tenacious wind, unfurling sails.
A bird building nests
through a storm.
Impassioned tears, of a lost love.
The distorted reflection
staring back
at you.”


Through all the screams
of arrogance
and shame,
An ethereal voice
continues to
chant.
What are we,
in a land of eternity?

"You are more and less than egos know.
Countless footprints
are left to dust,
but each one in the same.
Every step
and grain of sand is
you."


What are we
in such a fragment of the
cosmos?
What are we,
in such fleeting of moments?

“I am everything.
You are everything.”


One day I will die
…but what am I?
 Dec 2017 M Clement
Lucky Queue
edgy
 Dec 2017 M Clement
Lucky Queue
I live my life in troughs and peaks
I write 2 papers and shoot off 6 emails in a freshly cleaned room
I let the dishes sit for a week and can’t get up til after noon

My period used to be like this before I started the pill
Sporadic and long (or short) and inconvenient and gut-wrenchingly guilty

I think about my 3 papers due next week and how I want to sketch up my traumas
Instead I open a new document and type this
I procrastinate productively sometimes I guess
This is a trough
11.10.2017
 Dec 2017 M Clement
F White
Night and day melt in
A cycle of paradoxical yin
And yang
Up is down,
Sideways is wrong
And stopping is the fear of
Speed
The struggle is the
Map when searching for a
Key that you didn't want
to Need.
Copyright fhw, 2017
 Dec 2017 M Clement
Raegan Meyer
Regular people
Don’t feel this way in their minds.
They must be so bored.
people who write poetry are definitely special.
 Dec 2017 M Clement
Lior Gavra
Secrets create,
Enemies and friends.
Can start new trends.
Reveal new tech.
Endanger peace.
Turn blue to red.
Secret whispers.

Secrets welcome.
Extra income.
Conditional love.
Regretful outcomes.
Emotional sin.
The hidden grin.
Secret whispers.

Secret sounds.
Entrapped inside.
Craves to be found.
Results in lies.
Eats till it dies,
Till realized.
Secret whispers, do not hide.
 Jan 2017 M Clement
Joshua Haines
I once was a kind of smart man;
pretentious to the bone --
I took a pill for the thrill
of masking a part
I thought was gone.

Something, Something
College Dropout
Something, Something
No Good Son
I took a drive to stay alive
because I swore I
was once someone.

I once was a good American;
dollar bills on my bones --
I fell in love with the glove
that covered the debt  
that made me feel alone.

Something, Something
Godless Monster
Something, Something
First Born Waste
I bought a gun to
have some fun and
thought I'd have a taste.

I hope I'm a loving father
and don't vanish in the dust.
There aren't many thoughts
that bounce in this head
I find I can trust.

Something, Something
Standard Loner
Something, Something
Find Me When I'm Gone

Something, Something
Where Am I
Something, Something
Am I Someone
 Jan 2017 M Clement
Lucky Queue
b.

Once the sage gaze of starlight fades,

the twinkle and flash of cosmological mineral death,

descending in a tumble through the atmosphere,

puncturing each layer like a pebble through cobwebs,

we wake to a frightening new wonder.

We rise to the growling of the center and the sun.
prompted astrology part two
11.15.16
 Jan 2017 M Clement
BarelyABard
Etches in the ***** mirror, like ghost across the skies.
draw hopeful words in steam from all my weakened sighs
The morning brings bravery to meet the darkness with defiance
but night fills my heart with longing and the slightest stroke of violence.
The eyes in front of me,
reflections of what I want to be
aren't the eyes I actually see
the purest form of what is me.
Wrinkles pouring 'cross my face
meet the stretch marks of wasted space.
I check the clock.
My bank account.
The scale.
Numerical definitions of what I have and what I don't.
But I cannot check my happiness to see if I am overdue.
No check on Friday will fill my heart... which has been overdrawn.
How to measure the strength of soul, before the vault is all but gone...
The etches in the mirror say
"Tomorrow is another day." while advertisements of existence blur my vision.
They tell me this is life.
They tell me work your job. Pay your bills. Accept your place.
But I have slowly learned that I will never agree.  
What will I do when words run out and I am left with an empty wallet, an empty mind, an empty heart?
Let me body decay before my strength does.
Let the words stay etched in my mind.
Tomorrow is another day
 Jan 2017 M Clement
Joshua Haines
FADE IN.

Mama, come try to deliver me;
I've been a rubber baby
since nineteen-ninety-three.
Father, come try to educate me;
I've been your no-good
since I turned thirteen.

Please, Lord, find the redemption in me --
I've grown weary of the way worry
boils, brews, and eats me slow.
See, friend, I can feel, too;
I used to let you down because
that's all I thought I knew
what to do.

Dah-Dah-Dah-Dah-dadada
Dah-Dah-Dah-Dah-dadada

Sister, angel, become bloodshot
at the way I hang; swaying
from the bedroom tree.
Sometimes I mistake my
bad brains for rotting fruit;
mushy peaches, doused in
fishbowl alcohol and
worries I can't shoo.

Good God, Lord,
what am I to do?
Good Lover,
what am I to say?
Good Brother,
I've failed you so.
Good Father,
I'm sorry I'm made this way.

I'm just a young boy unaware
of the stretcher
I think is a bed;
Bad brains make the
star-kid in my head.

Dah-Dah-Dah-Dah-dadada
Dah-Dah-Dah-Dah-dadada

FADE OUT.
 Jan 2017 M Clement
Joshua Haines
I rejected the art crowd
like a hipster on parade.
I lied to a pale face
because I was too afraid
to be myself; oh, to be myself
is to be naked among the winds.
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