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 Oct 2016 N
Joshua Sisler
 Oct 2016 N
Joshua Sisler
The most destructive vice I've ever known
is no drink or herb,
but her salty ocean blue eyes;
in which all my love and hope lies.
 Oct 2016 N
Mike Adam
Flower bed
 Oct 2016 N
Mike Adam
Above which flower
Do you sleep
With vibrant color
Flavoring your dreams

Beneath what fibrous
Root do you rot
Dank earth mouthing
Funereal dirge

Within which flower
Do you reside
Aroma calls me
To your side?

Sturdy yellow petal
Or blushing wilted pink

Beside you would
I stay with buttercupp'd kiss
 Oct 2016 N
John Cena
10 seconds
 Oct 2016 N
John Cena
i have 10 seconds to write this poem
its not very good
i like wood
 Oct 2016 N
Betsy Garris
       Kissing her coffee cup
       Brewing in her mind.
   Bold-with cream
     Cool-with steam
       Latte lifting up
   Always stirring
     Wond'ring, worry'ing
       Of love she left behind.
 Oct 2016 N
Finley in Despair
Oxygen is precious
and I continue to waste it
contemplating life
and the decisions I make in it
but I can't decide if it's
sadness or anger I'm filled with
I clench my jaw constantly
and I cry in my sleep
don't know what I'm worth
every day I'm reminded I'm weak
decisions decisions, a lack of ambition
or rather the strength to acquire
what I desire and I know
life is truly a lustrous haze

My soul wants to dance
whilst my heart wants to fight
inflicting pain on others
only to lessen my strife
my mind is a complex maze of thought
thinking we were gifted with intelligence
but now I get it, it's a curse to see
understand, realise and go on knowingly
that life is hard and the world is not fair
well I realised it young
so I can admit that I'm scared
the people that comforted me,
stood by my side, seem unaware

I hope people see something in me
because I don't
I see pain filled eyes when I wash my face
I connect with a reflection
that has felt my pain
I doubt everyone else is different
we're all ashamed
the circumstances differ but
the pain is the same
 Oct 2016 N
a m a n d a
 Oct 2016 N
a m a n d a
i like the way
cats fight.*


a dance
entwined in


the utmost
 Oct 2016 N
Joe Cottonwood
His speech is rough,
his work is smooth.
Don’t make him talk.

His tools can maim
or make an angel.
He has wrinkles like wood grain,
memories like wood scraps.
Wait, and he’ll carve one.

The stories come
gnarled, with knotholes.
He chuckles like a chisel
working old walnut.
Dedicated to James Adams of La Honda, California

first published in Indian River Review
 Oct 2016 N
 Oct 2016 N
By the way we've proceeded, I've gathered
Up hints like raspberries in a basket
The fruit is sweet, but the thorns are sharp and the dye stains red
My fingers are crimson and I'm not mistaken
You don't want anything to do with me
I'm sorry these poems seem so sad, I'm really not sad, just contemplative, I guess.
 Sep 2016 N
Scream to the wind to the sky to the moon I want to memorize your face as it shouts, as it bends to your anger and takes on a new form. Rough and beautiful with its jagged scowl lines as you promise to love me only and to gift me all your time. Cry to the grass to the gravel to the worms of the earth I want to see you on the brink of tears, to capture the way your eyes shine and mouth gapes to imagine kissing all your pain away like a bandaid. Open yourself up past the smile you share and the polite pull of your lips that you lend to strangers who can't comprehend the beauty in each chapped crack and the aggressive need to have them graze the skin. I've been waiting near two decades for you. For your worst and worse than that, I've been preparing myself to be your shelter when the storms hit and to be your bed when you need to escape from the world. I've imagined you in all shapes and sizes and expanses and variations of beautiful but nothing compares to the actual you. Someday I'll look at you and see something far better than just a smile, more than just happiness or love and I'll know I haven't wasted a single second in my life waiting for you. And I hope you'll see the same in me.
words will never do you justice
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