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conquered cities 
reduced to dirt, then
sown with salt so nothing grows. ever. 
assaulted senses bring fevered dreams of
caeser's dying breath escaping when I exhale. 

fate breathes as well; 

a single, ragged, pep-o-mint tickle on my neck 
so I know she's there... 
just behind me. 

I'm finding it difficult 
to keep the salt from my wound- 
to keep the sea from my door- 
to keep the plank from my eye- 
to keep off the moors at night 
  when the moon is blind to my indiscretions.
Speaking of how
these Ladies of the Night
must hate Daylight Savings Time
since the sun doesn’t set until nine, and
the cloying summer scent of honeysuckle
drowns the smell of their knock-off Gucci Guilty.
Except there’s that one A.M. Pro
who works the whole stretch in front of
The Towing and Recovery Museum
from 7 something till lunch.
She’s tried to keep a low profile, but
is hoping to meet that one lonesome soul
who needs to get blown
at ten o’clock in the ******* morning.
Sometimes I wave at her when I drive by,
wishing her the best,
whatever that may look like...

The fasten seatbelt warning light is flashing on my dashboard but
I’m buckled in, rest assured.
That’s probably important, but
it’s like what Don Q whispered to Sancho through the Spanish gloom:
“I need you.”
Soon the Dogwoods will bloom, and
bring one last gasp;
A eulogy for winter-
a final little bit of cold remembrance
for our unwashed faces.

Summer is for a different song. Brand new wrongs,
slick fingers and
a sunnier side of sin. The good kind.
Twixt those sweaty inner thighs
hides a secret worth savoring; a secret worth harboring.
Salvation is warm and...
I digress.

In the interim lies spring,
when we debate the merits of
crucifixion and/or fertility.
Around here, crucifixion wins since
we love a good ******
more than a good ****.
Who am I to argue?

So we wait for
something different.
Breath bated -
anxiously anticipating change
with a hitch in our collective chest.

That change will come but
not before the blackberries have had their say.
I wish I was the kind of person that liked Bjork.
Alas, I am not.
The Pixies are cool, and
I like every band Glen Danzig has ever been in,
but that isn't fashionable.
I really did turn into a Martian though.

Lately, its been all Vic Chesnutt with his 2 good fingers and
delicate warble.
**** I miss that guy.

Remember delicate warbles? Neither does Bjork.
hashtag light on Friday
hashtag #
#hashtag
# I don't really understand how this feature works
hashtag why cant we just use keyword searches this **** seems lazy
#sorry about that I was just lashing out because I get angry at things I don't understand. I didn't get my first computer until like 5 years ago and by then I was already 32 or 33 and well past the point where learning something new is comfortable
#**** yall anyways I don't owe you a ******* thing least of all an explanation this is a poetry site not a ******* hashtag factory
#sorry again no kidding things I don't understand confuse and enrage me. I full on freaked out at a Mongolian grill the other day because I couldn't figure out how to make Szechuan Shrimp happen
#if there is some secret alchemy to creating your favorite dish then why don't they post a chart or graph or something
#next time Im just going to red ginger bistro where you say "id like the Szechuan shrimp please." and they say "Yes sir, Mr Vince, one minute."
#now Im super sad about my outburst
#giants cry really big tears
#yall don't care. you never loved me
hashtagI know that isn't true. I miss you please come back
# whatevs
 Feb 2016 Marsha Singh
Melissa S
If I am feeling the need to purge
I head on out to nature's church
Where I can feel peace
Where I can have quiet
and practice my amen in nature's diet.

Do not know which I like more
Listen to an owl call for his mate with a hoot
or when the tree frogs start singing and follow suit
Have a picnic under my favorite birch
oh yeah nature is my church

Do not know which I like more
My favorite coffee while watching the sunrise
or watching all the colors of a sunset in the skies
Seeking out treasures and trails to search
oh yeah nature is my church

So let us show a little appreciation
and give a thanks to the man upstairs
When it comes to his creations
We should bow our head in thankful prayer

Who says I am lost if I wander
but I can get lost in God's wonder
It isn't hard just look around and search
Nature should be all our church
I got the idea of this poem after listening to the beautiful song by Maren Morris ~ My Church.  If you haven't heard that song give it a listen  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rd-V0LuQ0v4
 Feb 2016 Marsha Singh
Melissa S
An accidental brush
two hands
touch while waiting for a train
an unbearable parting
with him acquiring her name

He now looks
for any excuse to touch her
like an invisible string
that tethers them together
soft skin of her mixed
with the hard rough of him

Their hands are now
clasped together
his on top of hers
sweet sweaty heat
resting atop cool sheets
Happy Valentines Day!!
 Feb 2016 Marsha Singh
Melissa S
Awakening with your
beautiful words
I find a grateful heart <3
When I do not start my day off with poetry I can tell a difference in my day. Thank you all for the words!
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