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 Oct 2013 Mercy B
R
he deserves
 Oct 2013 Mercy B
R
as she wishes him
the best because
after all,
thats what he deserves.

his sweet blue eyes and
boyish smile make her
euphoric.

his laugh is deep just
like her roots are for
him.

he seeped into her
soul and he can't
fight his way
out.

and why should he?
its a nice place to be.
after all,
thats what he deserves

he deserves to be on
her mind all day and
in her heart all night
and in her soul
forever.
he deserves happiness, one that i cant give to him but its one hes already found. and i love him for that(:
 Oct 2013 Mercy B
Nat Lipstadt
They say
Words can leap off the page.
They say
Words can cut like a knife.

Come home from watching Lubovitch's dancers
Doing crazy eights upon the Joyce stage,
Rat-a-tat and seconds to bed tablet two-handed,
Some of thy words to keep, relish and visualize.
Tongue-taste delights, imagery dreamed, conceive'd!

Read four or five and I am
Crucified.

Anguish
Unrelenting - knocks planet Earth
Off its axis.
Star watching observatories call
NASA
"What's going on?"
But hey, they don't take the
Call
I don't make
Explaining soular word flares.

Anguish
Black and bold apropos.
Its asexual attendants,
Greet me, as I lay me down to sleep,
Souls inferno'd true confessions slap
Reality TV down to a pathetic joke.
Words, thorns without roses,
Bodies ready for extreme unction,
Punks puncturing peace with no punctuation,
Respite, none,
Spite, aplenty.

Google "sayings about words," thousands exist, pithy.
Amusing, insightful, but can't uncover any that relieve
Anguish,
the way needed now, for this crisis state.

Anguish.
Say it slow with your hands clasping your head,
The electric **** stabs connect your ears, but
Like water seeking release, head southbound to test the
Cavities of the heart's boundaries, probe for the
Satisfying silent ******* screaming weak spots.

Anguish.
Say it     r  e  a  l     slow,
feel the sounds of a summary of
Many other words, subsets of misery etc. etc.

The Aingsound,
Reminder of the dinging ringing stinking stingers,
Happy in their ***** work,
Here a hurt, there a hurt,
Everywhere a hurt hurt.

The shhh sound,
Is the bitter taste residue down sinister,
Ends in it,
No wash of the body or the mouth
Removes the endless shhh sound that is the exact
Opposite of a silencing hush.

I say,
I have words too.

Though I am not now,
Next to you,
You will hear my voice,
Out loud, out now, speaking
My words, recite or
Stop.

My words:

Feel just like those squeezing hugs parents
Give their kids when they are six seven and eight.
Hugs so tight the breath stops, but no minded,
For the message well received,
You are mine, my always, unencumbered,
Safely will this hugging touch see you through the night.

Foolish parents thinking those hugs unnecessary,
When children are "old," you know, like
Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, when
Anguish
Needs defeating then, needs them hugs,
Now more than ever.

My words:

Are the arm unexpected slung fastball of simple affection,
Over and around a shoulder sent and spent,
A best friend's gesture that says, I know, I care.
A costless measure that measures in caring
What no precious metal could dare contend.

My words:

Are hands, a corps, a division of single soldiers,
Stroking thy cheek, caressing thy forehead,
Corpsmen coming for the wounded with comfort,
Antiseptic syringes, stretchers to take away
What needs taking away.

My words:

Are a neck architecturally designed to take your
Head, be a pillow resting place, your bird house to
Shelter or hide, as you need, see fit.
There is no rent charged,
Except for what I pay you in the coin of comfort.

My words:

Drum beating chest for your rest, each beat a
Message of connection, my beats purposed to
Remind you that thousands beats more yours,
So look up raise up refreshed head, to listen
For it's the song of steady, a reminder, a remainder,
So many much chances yet.

My words:

The drowning pools where anguish suffocates,
For it cannot breathe in a world of words of
Pure oxygen that resuscitate, filter, restore.
Each breath a clarification, each one  word speaking,
No more, no mas, done, enough,
Anguish
Extinguished, banished.

They say,
Words can leap off the page,
They say.

No, you try, you hear it, the voice clarion,
These new words that travel up thine arms
Holding until the until, no end demanded,
Awe and then some,
Some more,
Healing words, meant to be read back to me,
So I can rest knowing you've lesson-learned,
Homework done, cause it is your words speaking,
Out Loud!
My words,
Become words of yours,

Your words.
Created October 17th, 2013, written on October 19th, 2013
Said and sung, simpler and better...a fav tune of mine...

Falling Slowly Lyrics  
by Glen Hansard.,
From Once.


I don't know you
But I want you
All the more for that
Words fall through me
And always fool me
And I can't react
And games that never amount
To more than they're meant
Will play themselves out

Take this sinking boat and point it home
We've still got time
Raise your hopeful voice you have a choice
You'll make it now

Falling slowly, eyes that know me
And I can't go back
Moods that take me and erase me
And I'm painted black
You have suffered enough
And warred with yourself
It's time that you won

Take this sinking boat and point it home
We've still got time
Raise your hopeful voice you have a choice

You've made it now
Falling slowly sing your melody
I'll sing it loud
 Oct 2013 Mercy B
Nat Lipstadt
"The longest trains in the world run in the US, Australia and China, as well as in some mining regions in Africa. These trains can be several kilometers long. The longest train ever was an ore train in Australia with ~7.3km (~4.5mi),  consisting of 682 cars and 6 engines."*

What know these train buffs who measure length,
In mere miles, kilometers, numbers of cars,
These mechanical movers, impressive to the eye,

Yet,
I have witnessed, not just seen, believed,
In a train that overwhelms not just the eyes,
But the heart, surpasses the limits of the mind's eyes.
It breaks imagination and says it is conceived,
Announcing to anyone, all who board, your are now,
Our newest,
Strongest link.

This train knows no regulation, track nor load constraints,
For it travels on invisible tracks on the Internet,
If need be, the good people at HP will add
More server capability.

This train, intercontinental, more,
Global,
And I have on god authority,
There are participants from
Other
Planets.

But shhhhhh! That's on a need to know basis...

This train, never reaches a final destination,
Coursing thru the veins, our arteries,
It has a heart that forever beats, cannot, ever,
Die, it is unstoppable, once in motion,
Transferred to the next one, by kiss ethereal.

For it has an energy, a peculiar one, not capable
Of being explained on Google or Wikipedia.
Try it, you non-believer, there is no correct definition of
Poetry In Motion, as the longest train ever...

Each car a different color, a different song,
No two alike, no two in tune, yet all in concert, a choir,
I have no explanation, other than to describe this as
Miraculous.

There are some peculiarities re this train,
It sometimes labels a car behind you as a follower,
Now this is accurate perhaps with respect to GPS,
But I call them readers, fellow travelers,
As we exchange loads of words, and then leadership,
As I move on, another comes up to the forefront,
Baton passed.

This train of poems, one grasping the poem right behind,
While another poet grabs the first and sends him forward,
In motion, unceasing, powered not by wind or petroleum,
But an energy of spirit human which cannot be consumed,
For with every baby, a new poet and poem born.

So let me correct an error of mine,
This train is not just poetry in motion,
But perpetual poetry in perpetual motion.

Should I fall by the wayside, lose a step in my stride,
Whatever I have given, here remains, to be carried forward,
By you, by new carriers, by new poets, new countries,
That have yet to speak their words, say their
Peace.

So here
I close this loop, throw this on top of the
Coals already in place.
With words of another,
Who said it simpler, said it better,
Let it be.
This took awhile to write, so let us call it the last poem of the day.
 Oct 2013 Mercy B
Nat Lipstadt
A  lifelong pleasure,
God's best invention,
The V in
CleaVage..
 Oct 2013 Mercy B
Emma
It has come to the end of my program everybody, Saturday will be the three month mark!
I am finally going home, to my mother, my friends, my old life. finally going home back to where it all began.

I'm going back to my old life. no more daily meetings or special routines, no more smoking areas or 30 minutes of being watched after I eat. no more non-usage of sharp objects or everything else they consider harmful.
saddest thing they cannot take is my fingers or mind. my hands or insecurities
I am so afraid I'll slip. I don't want to end up back where I was
but I'm hoping for the best and believing in myself for once.

I have a disease. Bulimia is my sickness and self-mutilation is my crutch
I've always been so ******* myself, always got into some new addiction or harmful habits.
but this just had to be the worse of all
everyday I carved at my body, leaving little memories
everyday I threw up my insides, wanting to be beautiful
Every **** day
I hated myself.
but I'm better.
it's not much, but I am.
I'm ready for my old life .
I'm scared as ****, but I know this time it'll be different
~

I have learned so much while being here, and I'm so grateful to everyone who has helped me along the way. It's been a battle against myself and I will never fully be recovered.
I didn't have any friends while out here or my mom, it's surprising that I only had my brother and hundreds of people I never knew to lean on.
I've been so lost and selfish for so long and I'm finally realizing that I do have people who care. I do have people that I just can't let down
and most importantly,
one of those persons
is
myself.
I want to be happy and I'm willing to try.
I want to be independent so that I can show everybody that I can do this and that I'm ready to move on.
It will most definitely be a struggle, my problems will never go away; however this time, I'm ready to try and be the old me.
I want to be the happy Emma, the smart Emma, the Emma that everyone used to love.
not this sad, sick girl who has taken over.
I will never fully be recovered, but I'm ready to let go and live.
I can do this, I know I can.
Emma can do this, I know she can.

*I will never fully be recovered, but I'm happy and ok.
and that's good enough
not a poem, just so exuberant I'm going home. It's been tough and I'll always have this disease but I've learned a lot these past couple of months and I'm ready.
 Oct 2013 Mercy B
Susan O'Reilly
Finally came out of the closet

His eyes look less haunted

I’ve known for years

Tried to ease his fears

He’s making bad choices

Speaking with a new voice

I’m hoping this is just a phase

Meeting guys down laneways

Came home with a swollen lip

Bruised from his neck to his hip

He’s so much better than that

I’d **** for him at the drop of a hat
 Oct 2013 Mercy B
Mike Hauser
I'm a victim of illusion
Your slight of hand no man can see
Leaves me in a state of confusion
As you remove the heart in me

I'm a victim of your magic
Power over life or death
One word from you, what that word would do
Leaves me with little if nothing else

Your an act no man can follow
And still I stand in line
With the aching wish that I would be your pick
Your illusion forever, with you forever mine
 Oct 2013 Mercy B
Mike Hauser
Now or Never girl
Gets caught up in the plans she's made
Now before it is to late
Never does she hesitate

Now or Never girl
Fly's on a higher plain of consciousness
Never can the girl resist
Now is when she's at her best

Now or Never girl
Knows that the time is now
As much as time will allow
Never girl if not now
 Oct 2013 Mercy B
Mike Hauser
You were my six

I was your seven

I made it odd

While you kept it even

We both had counted

On what's known as love

But when six hangs with seven

There's never much luck
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