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 Jun 2014 Nathan Wells
Joe Cole
I love it when my wife goes out for the day

It means I can leave the toilet seat up and not get nagged
Dear artists,
You clear the human mind's mist,
For complete clarity, For daily struggles you bring about bliss,
While the darkness of human's souls abound, you bestow a gentle kiss,

What are we? Just fools?
Or simple slaves to society, simple tools?
Used, then discarded?  Or, when finished with, thrown aside?
Yet, we of the arts, do not mind, even if we are in this bind.

Certain is that we are mankind's aid,
Serving our fellow man in countless ways through producing a relaxing shade,
With no secret vice, no secret blade,
Always with a supporting hand, destined to never fade.

Sincerely,
A fellow artist and admirer.
For all artists, with love.
Taking my genuine emotions, my heartfelt feelings,
Grinding them under your heel, smashing them,
Laughing as they are crushed beneath you, yet cruelly stealing
My heart once again, without remorse, a resolute goal without resting.

Why? Do you yet stand under the sky,
Leading others on, yet forever saying goodbye,
Simply to feel wanted, or by many  desired,
Or sought after, though you simply leave those in your wake shattered?

Curse you.
For those who you leave bereft,
For all those who wept, who were left, for not realizing their worth,
May you also feel that despair, even within your mirth.

Remember, when others have left you alone,
How there were those poor fools who reached out,
To be there for you at your lowest, To aid you in your doubt,
To get acquainted with thy soul, To soothe your wounds,
But you turned your back,
Saying "Maybe another day", still urging for their attention, even then,
So, may you sow what you reap,
You oath-breaker, even as you read it and weep.
my phone beeped
in an almost deserted train compartment.
my boss,
'where have you reached?'
I sighed and replied,
'should reach in 5'
(would reach in 20)
same old dance
to the tune of corporate slavery.

a sharp sound,
I looked up.
the sound dissolved
into a fit of giggles.

a group of kids
playing around, teasing,
their mother close by;
a hawker, selling trinkets in the train.

it looked so natural.
a working mum
looking after her kids while on the job
(doesn't work that way does it?
guess they didn't have anywhere safe
without her)

I couldn't look away.

it was such a sight...
torn, tattered clothes
dirt and mud all over
and those innocent giggles;
it didn't add up.

I was tired, aching,
infatuating about sleep;
feet bleeding in killer heels,
rushing around without purpose,
forced into an exploitative overtime job
by myself; frustrated,
trying to keep up with society.

the little family
calm, collected;
torn, tattered smiles held with grace,
facing their exploitative poverty
with innocent mischief and honest labour.

confused,
I had a thought:
that's the life they've known,
this is the life I've known.
we fit in our lives...
differently?

no...
we fit in different lives in the same way.
I struggle she struggles,
we both have good bad days.

I didn't realize I was smiling
till she smiled back.

I bought something
and got off at the next stop,
wishing she has more good days than bad
and the kids keep their giggles
a little longer than they can..
 Jun 2014 Nathan Wells
Joe Cole
3am and the sky was split
by the mighty bolt that the heavens lit
then Thor did speak, intimidating,  loud
and his voice did shatter both mind and cloud
mighty bolts were more unleashed
to sear the eyes and shatter trees
which burst assunder into flames
but his plan was just to maim
to leave the scars upon the land
and thus came torrential rain
to extinguish trees
consumed by flame
but the pain and scars remain
as Thor played his mighty game
and vent his wrath upon mankind
for 3 long hours his voice was heard
fearce bolts from blackened skys
were hurled
striking fear into mankind
what angered Thor to vent his wrath
upon feeble humans trapped below
perhaps its time for man to change
to revert once more to natures game
and a better life to live
3am yesterday morning and hell broke loose overhead
there are echoes of christmas chimes
in the midsummer dreamscape she has
woven on our bedsheets with
her photographs and pencil sketches

there is much to be done and little time to keep
she gently sweeps away such frail notions
and with sparkling wonders
shining in her eyes she unwraps the day
with her girlish laughter's and warm joys

there are christmas chimes in the beautiful light of her eyes
i am there in her afterglows and tender kisses
im there to kiss the bells in her dreadlocks
as stillness once more settles like a ****** snow
soft and silent gently while we slept

im there in her afterglows
with english schoolboys charms
to dazzle and delight
because i live for her smile
because i live for her joys
 Jun 2014 Nathan Wells
PrttyBrd
Silence weighs heavy
As it dances across my soul
Doing graceful pirouettes
As the darkness encroaches
Muted sounds of yesterday
Echo softly in the distance
Until naught but reverberations
Linger in faded memory
Like laughter that never was
61614
These harsh evenings have us all turned to jacks
Tonight, we are not but walking puffs...
Hot with split tongues, hard feelings, and morbid musings
Littered on the curb along side blazing eyes and coffee stains
The stars are fading and morning glow consumes them
In gulps

Early morning hours are rushed with nicotine
And infused with rich fermentation
Which churns deep in our guts
Spilling and twisting them for our eyes to see
We are all there, or have been...
Rotting in the space where geometry leaves us without proofs

Roaches we hit
But what a drag it is
To sit street-side with friends
Whose hearts and minds are spinning on a compass
With no magnetic pull
Whatsoever
 Jun 2014 Nathan Wells
Joe Cole
Me: Logbrain why do you continually abuse the work of other members

Logbrain: Simply because I am a superior being in the world of art

Me: I would suggest inferior would perhaps be a better word to describe you

Logbrain: Oh Oh Oh

Me: Surely that should read ** ** ** because most people laugh at your pathetic poetry.... No, pathetic attempts at poetry

Logbrain: PATHETIC!!! I, but but but Oh

Me: There we go again Logbrain,  Oh. Is that your favourite word?

Logbrain: It's the only one I can spell and anyway I can put more artistic expression into Oh than most people can write in 40 lines

Me: Oh Oh Oh how sad ** ** **

and thus the conversation went on
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