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 Nov 2011 Marie Hackler
unplugged
i got something to say
don't you turn away
you know me well enough
i wouldn't make a bluff
i've been secretly wanting you
without really meaning to
if i tell what i feel
will you know it's real
 Nov 2011 Marie Hackler
Theo Ross
Content, with a tinge of love,
I repent
All I've given up.
Realize what I've surmised
Is a traversed trial of fire.

Higher, higher;
The atmosphere you admire:
Lighter breathing,
Muscles beating,
Entreating my desire.

A pyre,
The phoenix feeling renaissance:
The lover's having ---
Once the want to be satisfied ---
Which was, while shattered, reconciled ---
Compiled a mile-long list
To mist the ever-flowering tree
Of prospect,
Respecting past
Opinion.

Your dominion over my
Ever-subjugating heart
(Pulsating a Morse message)
Belittles meaning in
Stockholm Syndrome,
For I am no
Shackled drone;
And, forever,
This you've known.

We are symbiotic.
We are psychotic.
Celeritous symbols
Sampling this:
Extended metaphor.

Extempore, we entertain and
Adore each other,
The world we are to each.
So: teach me how you look
With beseeching reach
Into deep territory in sleep;
Incept directly
And affect me
Romantically.

Augment what is meant and true.
 Nov 2011 Marie Hackler
Ivy Kwan
Hey baby, it’s three in the morning
Time has just flown by without any warning
But I need to get my daily dose of you
Before I have caught a love flu

Like a medicine? No, more like a drug
Embracing me like a gentle warm hug
One dose puts a smile on my face
Two doses steal my heart away without a trace

But how it torments and suffocates
When I can’t have it, it agitates
Yet the more I am used to its bittersweet
The more I need to consume to defeat

I would breakdown if you take it away from me
As you can already clearly see
You are the drug that I abuse
The remedy to my sickness as I deduce

So please, if you are not harmful to my body
I would like to maintain this dangerous harmony
Getting addicted is not an issue
As long as you are the one that I cling to
Ivy
September 28, 2010
Drawn in by a such a vast misconception
I fell so deeply into the madness
Surrounded by what I couldn’t understand
All I could feel was sadness

Unable to recognize how things really were
I was pulled under by the tow
But faithful to the end I held on tight
Believing I’d drown if I let go

Now as to what was really the matter
I am not sure to this day
But nothing could’ve been any clearer
When I saw the look on your face

Believing in that which one thinks to be real
Seeing what’s actually there
Such a revelation dawned on me then
The day I found that you cared
Copyright *Neva Flores @2010
www.changefulstorm.blogspot.com
Can the reader tell the difference
Between a poem that is
Forced, or
One that naturally flows
From mind, to pen, to paper.
A challenge to the reader,
Which is this?
A well constructed masterpiece,
Or a ****** attempt to get back
Into my lost craft?
For all you know
This is my third draft.
Writers are the clowns of the written word.
Can you assume everything that's written is true,
Or do you, the reader, need to be skeptical?
Where did all the trust go?
Was there any trust to begin with?
So reader,
Do you trust me?
Has anyone else ever noticed that even hours after you walk away from him, you still smell him in your hair, and when you turn your head, you catch slight whiffs , and you always end up hugging yourself if you are alone, and randomly smiling if you are in public, still missing his embrace?
Why does this happen?
Can't things just work out for me?
Pretty, pretty please?
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