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 Feb 2014 PJ
AP Beckstead 2014
The non-overlapping magisterium,
a law stating that science and religion cannot intermix,
separate chords strung from the same cloth,
vines splitting at the intersection of faith and reason,
barbs flush against the skin of the common,
man thinks he learned,
but is far from wise.

To narrow your mind so steeply,
is to hold back all that you are,
to be cut off at the knee,
giving into a disposition for failure,
for often has both religion and science failed,
wars fought in the name of God and race,
non-existent color lines we paint on the inside of our sleeves.

Science does not represent evil,
and religion does not represent good,
they merely represent two sides of the same coin,
one the corporeal and the other the ethereal.

Aggression is as human as the need to breathe,
and kindness is a forced characteristic,
but do not cast aside the flame,
for love and fury are intertwined,
but do not confuse these with wrath and lust,
the difference is in motivation,
so if you seek truth,
stare both in the eye,
the material and transcendent,
God and Mammon,
the lord and the beast,
the father,
a representation of the good in the human heart,
hold close these virtues,
but do not suffocate them,
and if the father is good,
then the beast is the black sheep,
representing that darkness inherent in the heart of man,
this personification of evil,
a scapegoat,
although we are caught in the tempter's snare,
he is not the source,
and if he is your reflection,
love him first and cast him off second.

And if someone protests your belief in the abstract,
I say love them,
but I also say stand up,
and do what you feel is right,
and walk your own way,
not the path chosen for you.
A.P. Beckstead (2014)
 Feb 2014 PJ
Infamous one
MEday
 Feb 2014 PJ
Infamous one
Good day today got this movie ive been wanting.
Got myself a Johnny cash book to enjoy
A new shirt if I decide to go out
The gym has been good to me
Hitting heavy weights getting my reps done
Cardio and reading a book that makes me laugh and smile.
Got home showered enjoying my favorite show
Ive been laughing and smiling making the of my goodtimes
Spoiling myself doing things right feel free for once its goid to be me
 Feb 2014 PJ
RC
six minutes
 Feb 2014 PJ
RC
My favorite time of the day is the majority of six minutes that his attention becomes mine.
He's something I'd love to wrap around myself
and I'd imagine a warm feeling
cooling the burnt edges and rough breaks
easing the incessant aching that has become my life.

Something about the way he talks makes the world dissipate around us
and for once I'm not drowning in myself
but in him.

When he's here there aren't words beating my mind
or feelings strangling me with bloodied fingers
there isn't that urge to burn myself down
and the sense that I'm not okay doesn't exist to him
because I don't let him ask.

I'd much rather spend our time listening to him
and always walking on his right side
because I love to look up at him and see how the sun plays shadows on the creases of his mouth
and the infrequent freckles that play in lines on his cheek
the familiarity of his eyes that tell stories of ever changing blues and greens
how he always tilts his head towards me when we talk.

When he crosses my mind (all too often)
butterflies don't shift and shake
they begin to awaken and tremble delicately
nostalgia creeping in every crevice
and I'm consumed in his essence.

And it's funny because he always tells me about her
but I always ask.
How he's never felt like this and how different everything is.
It hurts me when he speaks of how unsteady they are
upsets me how she won't love him like she should
like I could.

In those six minutes something normal flickers inside me
something reassuring.

Usually in our six minutes I ignore the irony that while he's falling for her
I'm falling for him.
more catharsis. not really any editing, my apologies.
 Feb 2014 PJ
Megan Dolan
Day 1
He walks in drowning in his own shame.
He tilts his head down shifting his hair slightly out of place.
He freezes and his eyebrows dance with the melody of his words.

Day 1
She walks in, embarrassed of her ways.
She grasps her hair, trying to sneak it into place.
She breaks and her feet withhold to carry any further.

Day 2
He gazes over his shoulder looking for a faith.
He shades his worries and looks to the ground.
He questions all morals and paces backwards.

Day 2
She whispers hate to herself and lives it.
She touches her hand where it colors of polished purple and blue.
She protects her anger and stashes aside the defeat.

Day 8
He runs from his fear of ignorance.
He struggles to keep composure as he dreams to be ordinary.
He wants himself, he needs himself to be sound.

Day 8
She finds every excuse to dive into the crashing seas.
She jitters in the face of nurture.
She wraps herself in expression of calamity.

Day 11
They disapprove where hearts rest.
They ****** themselves with society etiquette.
They dig further and further into holes of deception.

Day 11
They were never quit on the just track.
They continue the pursuit for justifications.
They surrender their will to hang on any longer, they reach for the final glimpse of light.
 Jan 2014 PJ
George C
One Sense
 Jan 2014 PJ
George C
The almost-soulless ring of a soft piano key,
Every single one
A separate thought,
Like the,
Smooth lullaby-like tones of silence
 Jan 2014 PJ
Lily Gabrielle
Daisies
 Jan 2014 PJ
Lily Gabrielle
My mind is a garden;
Overgrown,
Blooming far to much for my own good.
Every August a flower appears to shower me with water,
Touch a petal to my cheek,
And wilt away
As each
"I love you"
Turns frail in my fingertips.
A red rose grew
Ridden with thorns;
I couldn't hold on long
Without bleeding.
Garden filled with weeds
petals blocking sun,
Impossible to breathe.
Red as fire,
Borne of blood
Dew turned to rain
Until I couldn't tell tears
From flood.
I loved you still.
Winter came and nipped your neck
But you grew
Into someone else's garden.
And on valentines day,
You made her eyes like daisies.
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