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 Aug 2014 Rose Claire
Brie Sarita
This is the kind of cold that makes your
teeth feel like they have skin.
This is a twenty lined story about
your beggar arms and your open hands.
This is about finding warmth in whiskey
when you’re not much of a drinker.
You can’t even hold your water let alone
your drink—or your tongue, or your heart.
One glass too much and you’re vomiting
sonnets into the phone, into the gutter.
***** something into me.
I don’t care if it’s last night’s Chinese
or last year’s tears.
The world isn’t in your books and maps.
And it isn’t out there.
It’s here.
It’s here.
Take my gloves for the cold.
They’re yours, okay?
Our hands have always been the same size
 Aug 2014 Rose Claire
Lone Wolf
You say one thing
And demonstrate another
Most of your actions make no sense
I'm tired of your tyranny
Over my life.

I'm starting a rebellion
Against you, I'm tired of your controlling
****** behavior, yelling
And grounding me for weak reasons
You waking me up at 3 am
To complain and belittle me
Asking me questions that I'm too tired
To even comprehend
And punishing me for
Wrong answers and bad attitudes

You've taken everything from me
Through sleep deprivation and
Lack of free will, lack of privacy
you've taken from me
My sanity my kindness
My little willingness for socialization
My level headed disposition
My thirst for knowledge and reading
My creativity and imagination
You've turned me into...
I think your turning me into you
And starting today, I'm taking myself back
 Aug 2014 Rose Claire
Poetic T
We are dead
When we are born,
It just takes a life time to realise
When the last breath escapes,
We knew it was coming
From the moment we took are first,
Then the last one escapes
We were already dead
When we were born.
 Aug 2014 Rose Claire
Poetic T
Darkness it  pollutes
The pool of the soul,
What once seen through
Now but dark pools
Only evil sees now,
The one you knew
Now consumed in darkness
No voice,
A puppet on strings,
Like a passenger in a car
No control of the wheel,
Death would be better.
Than the things now seen,
Through blacked out windows
Evil now breathes, and has control.
 Aug 2014 Rose Claire
Joeysguy
Old School
By joeysguy

I remember lessons from the old school
It was a code an unwritten rule

As a male I would get to my feet
To give the elderly or a woman the seat

When taking a girl out for a day
As the guy I would always pay

Music was understood and had meaning
A lot of songs today sounds like screaming

Entertainers wore costumes or dressed in clothes
Today so much body they expose

You didn’t always have to lock doors
No fences had to protect stores

As a young kid I played outside
Strangers didn’t bother us, we didn’t have to hide

We would hangout till late hours of night
When older we hung out even till daylight

Women could sit outside late and talk
It was safe to take a late night walk

Any time was safe to go stroll in the park
Try doing that now in the dark

People now wear pants down almost to the knees
It’s ugly, pick them up please

What happened to those good old days
Time passes and kids go through a craze
 Aug 2014 Rose Claire
Joeysguy
Which Way to Heaven
By Joeysguy

My wife accepted the little that we had
Even those times that were really bad

She raised our kids, cats, dogs and also me
So as my hero it’s my wife I see

She would do things that made her strain
But she kept quiet about some of her pain

We were together for many years
Now alone I try to hold back the tears

Some days are harder to move on
So much is missing, so much is gone

With love for my wife I would always stare
Now it’s only pictures that I have here

I find myself rubbing some pictures with my hand
Wishing, just wishing to feel her hand

Thinking about the rest of my life
Which way to heaven and my wife

I wish I could hear my wife say
I’m here, take my hand heaven is this way
The nomadic mind knows no bounds
Oft it prepares to visit many places
Roaming the distant territories
The verdant valleys and the deserts
Drinking from the fresh flowing streams
Also, walking with the camels
Looking for the oasis, left with mirage
Retreating after a hectic day
Under the blue canopy and bright stars
Another journey towards the mountains
An itinerary of the nomadic mind
Yearns for more wandering adventures
Stopping at the intersections of ideas
Where meeting of the vagabond minds
Away from the permanent settlers
Living amongst nature, the nomadic mind
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