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 Jan 2015 Marie-Chantal
aar505n
I don't need to turn around to know you're there, Mel.
I can hear your darkness creeping.
No longer sleeping.
Wide awake and wanting to play.
Nothing to do to delay it.
I need to realise that you can't be denied.
Especially, when you look to me,
with those dark, dark eyes.
Mel with her dark eyes of hers
 Jan 2015 Marie-Chantal
Thomas EG
Things just don't fit together like they used to. I knew I had lost many of my pieces along the way, but I was painfully unaware of the full extent of my loss.
I slip and my cards fall in slow motion from my hands. I have lost my queen of hearts and I wonder if I will ever find her. My jigsaw gets smaller and I wonder what my fascination with puzzles was ever even about.
Youth misleads our clumsy fingers until adolescence can guide them more clearly, but how is adolescence to know the right direction? What is our destination anyway? Where are we going? What are we trying to find?
I reach under the couch and find a joker... Wait, he was joking? It shocks me like a jack in a box. How could I have been so naive? Of course his actions were insincere. They always are. They always will be.
I am looking for my queen of hearts. Her jigsaw pieces slot perfectly into mine. She is not so much of a queen as a princess, but she certainly possesses many a gullible heart. She possesses my gullible, frail heart.
I yearn for her crumpled, dog-eared kisses as she floats to the floor with the certain elegance of a queen. She snapped my heart, spit on the pieces and dealt me out a new hand. She does not understand... The only hand I wish to have is hers in mine.
She may have gone fishing for a challenge, but there will always be too many riddles for her to answer... I lost my queen of hearts. I am puzzled. I am too afraid to gamble my love away on any other card.
Once upon a time, she bet that I would give in, give up and fold her up. No, I will not fold until I have won... I will win her heart. I will win the game.
Feeling creative tonight... So many puns in this poem. Puns are great. Poems are great.
1546

Sweet Pirate of the heart,
Not Pirate of the Sea,
What wrecketh thee?
Some spice’s Mutiny—
Some Attar’s perfidy?
Confide in me.
And That was it...  
an ever growing chain of chances
Each shrunken sick in manners
down to the pitiful  size of mud dancing bugs
Finally foiled and boiled alive
in blood soaked tribal chants
to nothing but some cruel joke  
In which I will craft myself some hazardous home
But with You
Your handsome and enchanting charm
Always and forever squirming unpleasantly  
Framing My holy and collapsible sense of purpose
Leading me to be caught in those crosswinds
And with not one pathway left
To lead to another
Yes
That is it...
 Jan 2015 Marie-Chantal
Mark Ball
Inside the universal set:
Circle A and circle B;
Circle you and circle me.

To keep things easy,
we started with the numbers on the outside,
but soon grew to the small part in the middle.

That small slither
of similarity.
But the numbers are just there for
Clarity.

Not to mention circles
C,D,E & G.

But circles are circles,
and people are people.
You are you.
I am I.
And that was that.
Sort of inspired by Lisa Hannigan's Venn Diagram -  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rh4iUMXQc04
I still remember you
Oh so well
On such a haze of a cold winter's night
Where you and I did lie side by side
in such Solemn sweet tranquility      
Perhaps two brains elsewhere would do
And I stared forward at the dull moonlight
that snuck in through cracks In the dusty shutters
And soon I myself fell into a slumber
Soft eyelids melting with fireball and the midnight chime

Things had slowly changed
As mind to spirit slipped to song
you did rise from where you lay
Taking leave in low light
I peered through half shut eyes
As clicking chimes and doors you swung
Pierced the empty but perfect silence

You left me quite terribly alone
And with your absence as my fear
I rose myself and slowly hummed
To tail your ghostly shadow

An hour gone in your twisted maze
Walking barefoot through the night
I found you on your knees
Beneath the Idlewood tree
crying scarlet tears
sunken down in prayer
Nightgown soaked in mud
I watched you breath
So heavily
So desperately and true
Your face clear of any other colour
But dark red and warmest blue

As we lay there
Side by side
Your arm around my head  
You must have heard the screams
That came out of my own lips instead
 Jan 2015 Marie-Chantal
aar505n
Left a nasty mark
Left side of my face.
Sparked inner disgrace
Embarked upon a new place
Where defaced faces are not remarked.
But in the dark, I got displaced.
This space was dead quieted.
No lark sung here, but hark!
A lone bark cried out. And then another and another.
Braced myself, as stark fear crept inside.
Out of the dark, the pack show their faces
And the race began - They chased me through the park
Traced me deeper in the woods. No hiding place seen
Lack of light, pitch black, trees attack, narrowly missing me.
Can't hack this, graceless at racing.
Face grazed by twigs, looked back at the pack, closing in
Quickened paced and - smack. I found the ground embracing me
Ending the chase as they arced around me
Surrounding me in the dark
My eyes glaced over, sparking more than fear
To enter my brain, all them interlacing  together
Death's intamacy marked the end.
I prayed for a coup de grace
Just in case skies aren't empty
Jaws opened and crashed down on me.
Biting, chewing, tearing through me.
Eating raw meat, sweat as nector for them.
Brittle bones break and snap.
They drain my marrow leaving hollow bones.
I laughed.
I laughed louder and louder.
The unearthly sound echoed in the night.
The biting became more frantic, more panicked
Couldn't understand the drastic change.
My fears displaced into the dark of ether
I got up and shooked myself free.
They couldn't defaced me anymore than I am
Frightened by the bite though it's no harsher than the bark
And being frightened, I gave them power over me
Power to tightened my very being.
Misplaced my own proper power prove to be a mistake.
But now I know those shadows do not mark my end
The gallows can wait.
I disembarked from this dark park, leaving behind the barks.
Face still defaced, but with an ace up my sleeve.
 Jan 2015 Marie-Chantal
aar505n
It's quieter now.
Rioters are long gone.
For reasons  beyond me.
Their anarchic war
Was replace with arctic winds
From far north.
Iciness blows through me
Unthawing the rawness.
Forlorn frozen feelings.
Slowly spreading, soon
I am a hollow iceberg
The world still moves on
Through the bright fire
And I watch from my frigid state.
Sometimes, flames will flicker towards me,
Sometimes, they lick my ice.
Temporary mealting occur.
The memory of water proves too
Tempting for ice to ignore.
But this chilled bliss is fleeting.
Memory turned sour and only to freeze up again
And forget about fire so ice retires from contact.
All I can do is watch on.
Coldness remains in the heart and brain.
As the warmth of health carries on around me.
It is time like this,
That I wait for this age to pass.
For climate change to do what it does best
However weather has always been unpredictable,
And even lava couldn't thaw me free.
Instead I will wait for the return of the rioters.
and prepare to greet them all
and All the choas they bring.
a wee diddy, hope you enjoy!
 Jan 2015 Marie-Chantal
Thomas EG
You think you're so cool...
Bad boy, detached.
Nobody knows you
like you know yourself.
Leather jacket, crooked grin.
Only few deserve it.
Pocket-watch, single hoop earring.
Vintage, vintage...
How did you get so great?
Perhaps you stole the lost souls
of fragile beauties.
Perhaps you aren't so great after all.
Perhaps...
Or maybe
you just got so sick of hating yourself,
that you decided
to hate everyone else instead.
Maybe...
Or it's possible
that you lost your own soul
in the eyes of a fragile beauty...
And it's possible
that you're too far gone
to be saved.
Literally just wrote this on the spot. I don't know.
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