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 Aug 2013 Paige
dekie hicks
Poor little crippled spider
Dragging along across my desk
Painfully slow, one leg crushed.
You don't deserve this ill condition
****** down upon your tiny body.
Little spider, desperately jerking,
Fighting for life, losing the battle,
I'll tell you now, simply, I hope.
It is because of deeds like this
That man is marked for long, dark days.
For it was I who smashed you hard
And took away your chance for life.
Yes, I, ensnared in arrogance blind,
Despising your trek across my desk
And thinking only of myself,
Fearing the moment when you
Perhaps would crawl across to me.

**! You wiggle once more,
Feebly, desperately. What right
Have I, a human only, to
**** you thus? None, I say.
I have none. Oh, to turn
The tables only once and give
To you the strange and murky power
That we regard as splendid.
Yes! Give to you and your kin
The chance to wreck a vengeance proper
Upon the callous'd head of man.
We deserve it, little one,
For we are naught be far-removed
Extensions of yourself
And cannot justify such acts
Of cruel, vain, and fiendish ******.

Look! On your back you lie.
Your legs, only six or seven now,
Are curled across your belly soft.
What thoughts run through your tiny head?
Do you pray? But no, you have
No need for prayer. Never have
You left the bright and glorious
Kingdom of God. Born you were
In innocence fair, and lived
You did in that same virtue.
And now you die, and not once
Did fear of doom, darkness, and eternal
Death weigh upon your taintless life.
'Tis I who fear eternal death
For I have killed you, little spider.
Killed you out of fear and horror,
Ignorance and arrogance and black disgust.

Live on, Little Spider, and live well!
Forgive me of my ***** deed
That I might forgive myself
And treat with kindness and respect
Your tiny cousin trekking now
Across my desk in search of you.
 Jul 2013 Paige
Reece
There's a city under water and she sings to me with pride
(I sit alone and wish you profound gaiety)
The rains continue to pour across my face, I refuse to go inside
There's a man without a home, free from the ******* of love
(I wish to find within myself a sound laity)
And so I return to the church pew desolate, searching for God above

Born to an atheist household, deprived of propaganda
(I suppose learning now is enough)
I sit here, a church in drowning Uganda
The rains of a thousand brutal homicides leave me with a sigh
(The rainfall allegory, merely a bluff)
But still I sit on a bench in a church yard and the LRA pass by
 Jul 2013 Paige
Sal Gelles
Can you move your limbs separately?
Are they pulled by some invisible string?
Do you own your own voice?
Or is it somebody else using it
every chance they can to just sing?

Have you ever felt truly freed?
Were you ever able to think on your own?
Are you the one working every digit,
every finger, every push, and pull
to that person you’ve been trying to phone?

What will you say finally,
Once they pick up on the other end?
Is there any specific reason you’ve called?
Or were you just bored, tired,
and looking for somebody you’d believe was a friend?

Are you free?
Have you freed yourself?
How did you do it?
I’ve tried for years and can’t find the scissors
To cut the strings I’ve tied to myself.
 Jul 2013 Paige
nathan
I.
we’re getting extensively bombed
I can’t remember the last time we felt like the sky belonged to us

we leave home with masks hidden in our backpacks
afraid of every movement
feeling like we are the bad guys

they should be the ones afraid
but the government, they say, is corrupt
and we don’t know whom to trust

II.
and while we were sleeping safely
there were people who never slept at all
there are no rubber bullets in the suburbs
there are no cameras begging for justice

there is just pain, abuse
and prejudice
and bad things waiting to happen, and they always do

III.
the city was darker last night, silent
we didn’t hold any flags and didn’t shout any words
we just awaited something to happen

gather, hope, sense
suspect
whatever words you are looking for to describe
none of them will fit

none of them
will be able to describe
that feeling in the night sky

IV.*
we left
they said it would be suicide
I don’t want to give up but maybe that’s it
maybe they’ll win
maybe they already did
october 19th update: we're resisting.
 Jul 2013 Paige
Sand
3 AM and the famed
“World’s Best Coffee”
Isn’t doing the trick.

Dawn at diners
Is where the lonely
Gather for company
‘Cause we’re tired of
Laying alone on a bed
Too big for one
Too small for our thoughts
Too much of a reminder.

[Your imprint still fresh,
An outline to the right side of my pillowcase,
And some nights,
When I’m consumed by thoughts of you,
I’ll crawl into the depression,
And let the space engulf me,
Until I remember that,
Just ‘cause you laid on the right side,
Didn’t mean you were always right,
And a strange metaphorical hope
Bubbles out of me,
When I remember that
Hearts tilt to the left,
But, when you left,
It was quite heartless.]

We prefer indistinct strangers
Who we secretly hope
Have stranger problems
That maybe they’ll share
To make ours seem more bearable
But, more often than not,
We sit in a shared silence
Fatigued, insomniac, alone together,
The (lonely) only chatter with the night shift waitress.
 Jul 2013 Paige
Klvshp0et
It was the muse that kissed the *******
And turned his inner pain into happiness.

A face that often frowns turns upside down when she comes around.
Clothes rain to the ground
And screams of pain and pleasure
become hard to decipher.
Its not insane he found inspiration in her
they found love in their pain.

****** bitten lips
Ripped out hair follicles
And hand printed bruised hips.
He grips her curves
Like wet tires when they swerve.
She grips his neck
Like she is trying to pinch a nerve.
He grips hers to make it feel better
to make them feel light as a feather
hoping that they die
And drown in each others nectar forever.

It was the muse that kissed the *******
And turned his inner pain into happiness.

She didn't need him to romance her much.
When their eyes meet its as if he's tranced her
When he touches her
Kisses her
and loves her she summons a flood.
As if she was a rain dancer.
The face of an angel with a heart
Of cold marble.
Their love could only be partial
Even though they get so close
Their hearts are separate like
Stones of cobble.

When she leaves to pursue herself
She traps his mind and heart in one grip.
Not for a moment but for a very long trip.
His inner pain returns and his invisible tears begin to drip.
In the form of flowing life
From his masculine wrist.
He wonders will he ever find love
As strong as this lust?
Will his inner pain allow him to generate trust?
Or will the pain cause his heart to erupt.
Leaving a more heartless being.

So when they want to know what happened
Just let them know
It was all an accident and
It was the muse that kissed the *******
And turned his inner pain into happiness.
 Jul 2013 Paige
J Arturo
it's the morning of Tuesday
June twenty fifth, and the fog, again
rolls in against lima and listlessly scales the escarpment
and Dana (like I) high on ******* and circumstance
has gone with Chris and Cameron, to watch from the cliffs
(this time something loose has shifted, and I hope they kiss).
and Corey is here
asleep to my left
tired from a whole day of travel and
Dana calls her an insomniac but
I think she's at rest.

And an empire is how she took off her shirt
and gold is the way she doesn't object
when I trace maps in her back and put an ear to her chest.

because I don't know who this is or why
my fantasies fixated here, but they work, unbidden
behind purposed eyes
buena vida es buena ficion y
good fiction is impossible to expect.
like when under your skin, New England, dunes
drift and dance to the hand at your neck.

because I have everything I could ever want and for
me in my figured out life, these flighty daydreams aren't problems but
more like preproduction films to maybe see, to get lost in, given breath and a bit of sunlight.
because I have never heard Corey complain or object and until I do I
will continue to give to her everything I have, will continue to
try to understand the invisible hairs at the base of her spine.
try to reward what goes unrecognized.

because we're all bent up patchwork machines, and
I'm sure Corey crumbles inside as much as I, but
when you fly to peru and lay with certainty your head against mine,
into a stranger's neck, and lie still
when you could struggle to explain but don't even try
when you are beautiful, but keep on going still...

the ******* can't what my hands will,
in walking the staircase of her spine.
keep me watchful, and up all night,
to try in fingertips to recognize,
that you are beautiful and someone needs
to see you to sleep. to feel you to fly.
 Jul 2013 Paige
marina
starry eyed
 Jul 2013 Paige
marina
i've been told time and time again that
we are made of stardust, to the point where it's
not even poetic anymore, it's just
science. and while they're something beautiful in
chemical reactions and the attraction between
us and the earth's core, there is nothing beautiful
about the way biology was ruined for me
in seventh grade when we dissected frogs and i realized
that's actually what we look like inside-
we don't house constellations or milky ways or anything
worth staring at
                            (but even still, i couldn't look away).

i wonder if there's any chance of us being rescued from our flesh,
i wonder if maybe one day after we're turned to dust
again, our remnants will break free of earth's gravity
and we'll get the chance to be stars once more.

(i wonder if the reason we reach towards the sky at night
is because we can feel our brothers calling us back home)
this is bad and i'm sorry
 Jul 2013 Paige
RyanMJenkins
The night started slow, riddled with excitement.
Soon everything came together to light the way like lightning.
Simple plants, changed the nature of everything around us.
Everything had life, and was there to astound us.
Posters became 3-dimensional works that played with imagination.
Upon closing eyes, we were gone, lost in fascination.
Never was there fear, and everything had proper circulation
To show us that everything is intertwined.
Two souls that night were able to effortlessly unwind.
Sometimes I would giggle as I examined my own mind.
But it helped me see that I'm now powerfully redefined.
Little crystals on green bulbs of beauty disappeared into our chests.
Blow it out slow with control and let go of any stress.
Winds of change were growing, and our tree danced for us.
A milestone in our friendship these happenings were a must.

Everything had elegance, from the way the world would sway
To the way, I knew exactly what to say.  
Punch lines and good times had us laughing.
Such raw, pure energy, creating moments everlasting.
Philosophically speaking, we were retreating into places of higher power.
Once the caps and stems were gone we had bloomed into majestic flowers.
Melted in our environments, in harmony with each other,
As our solo melodies played and were soaked into each brother.
Stimulating conversations about the universal energy matrix,
Elevated on magic, we got our wondrous fix.
An influx of synapse firing sparked a rewiring of who we are.
Bodies completely relaxed, mesmerized by stars.
The moon was a goddess looking over us,
As we gazed in awe of her aura.
Faces changing constantly, but with eye-contact we had a God moment.
Spectacles morphed so fast there was no way to really hold it.

Confidence was off the page as the scenes I was conducting,
Switched from stage to stage.  
Every line by us improv actors was perfect as if predetermined.
I knew the right time, I never in my life have been so absolutely certain.
Fields of energy drew us in as our experience fluctuated between scenes.
Though sometimes I was enjoying what was going on internally so much so,
That we both had periods where we wouldn't speak.
The levels of creativity increased as I was realizing inner potential climbing to our peaks.
Outwardly, we may've seemed goofy
But we experienced something mystical, all by our own choosing.
My rhymes of the mind came out on time
And fit in with every line of conversation.
Whether we wanted to move or not was the only contemplation.
A loving memory was shared across the span of many hours, complete with soul restoration.
I never before, cherished the reflection of myself more.
In the bathroom with eye eclipses, the rain that is bliss, poured.
Hallucinations were fully engaged, and roared
Across my landscape, where my wildlife continued to grow.
So much information to process, we could vaguely share the overflow.
Sometimes words were not needed, the symbols needn't be portrayed.
Feeling near complete with psilocybin inside, as the compounds together played.
Dancing on a rollercoaster in the depths of my heart,
For awhile Daft Punk was playing as we jived in the dark
We were in absolute sync with every happening.
With kaleidoscopic visions and topics flowing,
Higher frequencies within us were amassing.

One long song, a perfectly scripted movie.
Special effects so intricate, deep and moving.
All wounds felt healed, both deep scars and minor bruising.
I was beyond myself, tasted a touch of cosmos drip in me.
Perfectly placed with perspective overlapping like sacred geometry.
Chemistry changes were made as we meshed with biology.
On the brief, forever journey, I believe I could see all of me.
Within realms within realms, the sea of consciousness is where we delved.
To realize all we ever needed, was ourselves.
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