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 Jun 2013 Mercy B
Tom Orr
Storm
 Jun 2013 Mercy B
Tom Orr
The wild jazz solo of the oscillating wind,
tossing the great waters,
out-singing the sheer sighs of the unruly sea.
The clouds dressed grey, in mourning
the sun will peek
only to be swallowed by fishermen's mist.
Flickering bolts greet thunder rolling
with unchallenged prevalence,
shaking the Earth into fear.

Nature's response.
 Jun 2013 Mercy B
Nick Durbin
Tonight, shall we dance on the beach under a moonlit sky –
Cool sand between our toes, and the tide kissing our feet.
Swaying our hips to the sound of the crashing ocean,
Our stage is the illuminated sea spreading in all direction –
The entire world encapsulated as our audience,
We have captured the concept of being infinite.
http://peterandtink.wordpress.com/2013/06/21/the-moon-shall-be-yours/
If your mind is in the right place,
a wound that keeps dripping is just an annoyance.

Blood on my lips because I opened the beer bottle lighter style
with a cheap blue steal knife
that mistakenly snapped off the glass with the cap
and left edges that are sharper than they look.

I sipped anyway,
and now my top lip is bleeding like a geyser
but it doesn't hurt.

The only problem is someone else might see it and think I'm weird.
Which is the same **** problem as always,
except usually I don't actually bleed.
Last Night I dreamt
As most often do
It was so very vivid
I could've sworn it was true
I sat up and gazed around
At the morning in my home
A little voice whispered in my head
I was not alone
So I laid back down
I took a deep breath and then
Closed my eyes to think back
To the Dream and where I'd been

I sat alone with Van Gough
So I could watch him paint
His life splashed upon the canvas
So he could forget his pain
The world seemed to disappear
As he he sat with a brush in his hand
He wasn't called mad by a world
That refused to understand

I stood beside Hemingway
With a strong drink in my hand
He told me stories of his life
Of war, women and Cuban Land
A large smile sat on his face
As he spoke and forgot about his strife
I drank his scotch and thought
Could I be as great in my life

I laid beside Elizabeth Short
And I watched her as she lay
I heard her speak of fame and stardom
And that she would know it one day
With stars in her eyes, she told me
Her name would be known far and wide
And it pained me to know
That she'd be known for only the way she died

Then I sat back and gazed upon all three
With which I had shared my time
I took their words to heart
And stashed them within my mind
I could be like Van Gough
And focus my pain and fear onto the page
My blood is ink and I can wield it
Like some unholy Mage
I could be great like Hemingway
Forever destined to destroy myself
I could hit the top of the pile
And drown out the future with top shelf
I can be like The Dahlia
Forever dreaming of the day I'll be known
Chasing fame until the end
When my final fate is finally bestowed
 Jun 2013 Mercy B
David Nelson
INSIGNIFICANT

Inspired
Notions of
Self
Importance
Generally
Negated
Immediately
Following
Increased
Car­ing
About
Nothing
Tangible

Gomer LePoet ....
 Jun 2013 Mercy B
Nat Lipstadt
Whispering her smile
Looking beatific,
Looking arousingly terrific,
Uninvited but invitingly,
Place my pointer finger
Upon her breast, ******* already attentive,
*****,  she preps to dance and to
Leave me

Bid her despedida,
For my adieu is tinged
With desperation internal raging,
For tantalizing, J'accuse,
Guilty as charged

My tango muse,
Off to dance in dives,
Where all the men are
Strangers, who paid in cash,
With creased and stained $20 bills,
To soil themselves, to dance with my woman,
Paid far in advance.

For consorting with the enemy,
I renounce her not, but guilty charged,
For mesmerizing, J'accuse,
Guilty as charged

She'll return, after three,
Undress before me,
Purportedly sleeping,
Pointedly, slowly, knowingly,
To insure I scent the sweat
That tango demands,
The ****** side effects,
The Argentines invented,
Accoutrement rituals,
Excuses to invent dance,
In order to pleasure intensity,
For teasing w/o mercy, J'accuse,
Guilty as charged

She chambers her body bullet,
Sliding in unrobed,
For a negligee would be
Negligent in her condition,
Laughing at my pretend closed eyes,
She whispers,:

I return here, to you
For one reason alone
Despite soul and body, exhilarated,
While gone, you have been composing
About me without permission,
Of  this, of thee,
J'accuse!

I know you have penned
Poem,
Which long after the dance thrill has chilled,
Will belong to me forever,
I will kiss you now so I may taste the
Words  that are mine, until next week,
When I will be guilty again
Of charging your imagination
The intro:
"Let's state the facts:
She gorgeous, she's hot,
She goes tango dancing after 10 PM
With bad boys from Argentina and the Ukraine"
First Poem of the Day: Yes Ma'am!

See Part I, "Ditty This, ***** Little Boy!"

Serial poet
 Jun 2013 Mercy B
Ian Cairns
Understand
that our departure
is necessary.
Our separation
forbids tragedy.
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