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The Sun Happily,
Spread A Smile On My Face,
Thank You Golden Rays
 Mar 2013 Nik Bland
Emily Paxton
He sticks his tongue out when he's thinking, and giggles when he's truly happy.
He's more sensitive than anyone I know.
Insecure and full of self-doubt, but stronger than he realizes and smarter than he believes.
Which all make him that much more handsome to me.
He's full of love, but scared.
And in that we are alike.
He gets sad sometimes for no reason,
And he tries to hide the pain.
An old soul, a deep soul, locked in the superficial world around him.
Hiding behind things that only temporarily ease the hurt.
And I do the best I can to make sure he knows he's loved.
Because that's what we all need, isn't it?
 Mar 2013 Nik Bland
Tim Knight
I did not kiss anybody last night,
yet my body-
from the lips down-
thinks I did.

Clad in a cotton armour,
like a pitch again tent
in a miserable northern monsoon;
the chest is protected from the disappointment,
the ribs are protected from the disappointment,
as for the heart, that’s the one that gets drenched
in drops of distress-
for it is the one ***** that gets played
by the hand of the female chess player;
knowing and knowledgeable, out to get
your king for only profitable stings
and club-night-pictures-check-the-website-for-more-details,
kisses.
@coffeeshoppoems
I've kept a box beside my bed
it keeps me up at night
And all the things I held inside
have strained my lucid sight
I try to let them out each day
in hopes they'll run and hide
And take up space or disappear
in someone else's mind
If I can push them off you see
then they will not return
And I'll be given what I want
releasing all concern
So once I have an empty box
I'll know my work is done
That I will not be evermore
so blinded by your sun
 Mar 2013 Nik Bland
Amber S
summer, spring, winter, fall,
it always carried a whiff of cleanliness, like lysol,
bleach and daffodils had made a not so secret love
child.
there were never any marks. no signs of mistakes,
accidents, humanity.
the floors glistened like the sun beaming off a black
convertible.
the windows, you couldn’t even tell they were
windows. not without the panes.
transparent like the shores of the Mediterranean.
I never touched anything.
I held my breath among glass, ornaments, picture frames.
afraid one intake would show up like a smudge that could
never be wiped off, no matter how much one tried.
she fits the house. like those china dolls, polished to perfection.
blonde hair rolled in unison curls. no frizz. never any
fly aways.
face just like those windows, eyes raging in a storm too far away.


his room was the only one i could sink in.
legos scattered
(i always stepped on the yellow ones)
clothes fuming with dirt and almost manhood.
his posters crooked, carrying characters dressed in
armor, or tuxedos, animated, weapons in hand.
his bed, never made, incasing the last impression of his body
(he always slept on his side)
a spot of drool still visible, blankets holding his scent.
soap, laundry detergent and oranges.
game controllers trashed, bite marks, dents, too many battles.
i finally breathed when i walked in.
The Waves Restlessly Lapped Onto The Coast,
As Hungry Seabirds Hollered From The Shore,
My Minnesota Skin Burned Crisp As Toast,
The Frost Offically Gone From My Core

Palm Trees Sleepishly Loomed Over The Sand,
As Tangled Kelp Gets Beaten By The Sea,
My Body Is Not Used To This Warm Land,
Or Reoccuring Sights Of Honey Bees

Flowers In Every Shade Bloom Happily,
As The Sun Reaches The Ground Where They Stand,
Storms Wander The Skies So Unhappily,
Because They're Aware This Is Summer Land

Grab A Board, My Friend, Or Sit In The Sand,
The Beach Is Always Warm In Summer Land
Yay! I'm Happy I'm Back In California!
In The Greyish Blue Of The Dawning Day,
May You Be Safe And Sound In Your Slumber,
Between The Sleepy Trees--May You Dream,
Dream Of Deer Bounding Through The Forest,
Dream Of The Raven Singing From The Trees,
Dream My Love, Dream

Deep In The Trees There You Lay,
Be Free To Sleep Night Or Day,
Sleep In April Then On To May,
Sleep My Love, Until You Desire To Play

In The Greyish Blue Of The Dawning Day,
May You Be Safe And Sound In Your Slumber,
Between The Sleepy Trees--May You Dream,
Dream Of Deer Bounding Through The Forest,
Dream Of The Raven Singing From The Trees,
Dream My Love, Dream

No Storm Shall Awake Thee,
And No Gun Shall Lurk In The Trees,
There Will Be No Sound From Even Me,
Just The Gentle Tune Of The Birds And Bees

In The Greyish Blue Of The Dawning Day,
May You Be Safe And Sound In Your Slumber,
Between The Sleepy Trees--May You Dream,
Dream Of Deer Bounding Through The Forest,
Dream Of The Raven Singing From The Trees,
Dream My Love, Dream
Read It With A Gentle Tune <3 (Not One Of My Best--It Sounded Better In My Head)
 Feb 2013 Nik Bland
Sub Rosa
I must write a poem
symphony of synonyms
hurricane of hyperboles
mobocracy of metaphors

floodgates in my fingers
obstruct my insanity.
No monsoon of carefully selected
adjectives, nouns, verbs
storming blank parchment
running ink stores dry.

Instead I simply gawk
at the word-worthy world.
Write poems on the seams of my skin
and under my eyelids.

Engrave the secrets of my crux
in the stem of my brain.

Cut out my own tongue.
Useless in formation of my phrases,
they are inconceivable
to modern man.

You'll never see my madness untill you examine my insides
cut me open, unravel the mystery in my cold blood,
Find me dead and read my lips.
they will be stuck in a
morbid *smile
 Feb 2013 Nik Bland
Kasey
Man
 Feb 2013 Nik Bland
Kasey
Man
I once stumbled upon a great beast of a tree
And I thought how like it is a man in this world.
From a seed this great tree grew from the ground
And his arms stretched where they once timidly curled.
I thought to myself how man is strong when storms blow his way
But, without nourishment, would shrivel to no more.
Like this great beast Man stands strong, protects and shades
Even when Man knows not what for.
Man's roots, his core, rely on the soil from which he grew
And to these things Man clings for life
A good man finds love in his mother and father
Or, if he's lucky, in the woman he calls wife.
A man is like a tree in the way that he stands tall
Even when everything around him slowly dies one-by-one
The might of a man can bring some to their knees
To some, he shines brighter than the summer sun.
A man is like a tree in the way that he is strong when he needs to be
Yet he knows when life is trying to make him drown
But often, though he stands and withers away
A man will not fall down.
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