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Boys are great
they say what they think
think what they do
say when they want you.
Boys are fun
They risk life and limb
just for a swim
Drink like fish
Eat the whole dish
Boys are interesting
they sit and twiddle
Opposable thumbs were
invented for them.
Yes I think I'll stick with boys
there are 2 different kinds of lovers.
the first;
they love until their hearts bleed out.
the second;
they let the other person put in the effort and time and enjoy it.

the first usually fall for the second.

it would be amazing for two firsts, or two seconds to find each other.

never, it seems is this the case.

there are those who come right out and say they like you...... firsts.
there are those who hide behind moving vans and run from you in crowded rooms...... seconds
there are those afraid of breaking hearts......firsts
there are those afraid of getting theirs broken......seconds.
there are those who find no reason to stay......firsts
there are those who find no reason to leave......seconds

the world is divided between firsts and seconds.

why must the firsts fall for the seconds?

who ever truly taught us how to love?
Yes
Yes.
Is that your answer?
It is mine.
Too bad you don't care.

The question?
You never listen.
All you want is the answer.
Not my question.

Do you care?
No.
Me?
Yes.

I do care.
I want to know.
I need to know.
You?

No.
You couldn't care less.
Yes.
That's the truth.
Who cares about the truth?
Me.
I care.
Yes.

Me.
Finaly.
I do want answers.
But I want questions too.
Yes.

Questions open the mind.
The heart.
The soul.
The person inside.

They all shine through.
Questions.
Mine.
Yours.
You want answers.
I want questions.

Real questions.
Insightful ones.
Pure ones.
True.
Innocent.
Yours?

Yes.
I want yours.
Your real ones.
Not the fake.
The show.
What others hear.

I hear the real question.
The underlying meanings.
Yes.
I listen.
I do.

Most don't.
They only hear
What they want.
Not what's really there.
What really matters.

Not the show.
What's backstage.
Behind the scenes.
The real magic.
Yes.
It is there.
I've found it.
Again I apologize for the length.
I have issuse with keeping things short.....
There’s a dark grotto
Under the sea
With shelves and shelves
Of bottles
Clear, glass bottles
All of my secrets

A carefully watched castle
The middle of a concentric series of impassable walls
Surrounded by a forest of kelp
With razor-sharp teeth
And then the narwhals
The narwhal guards
Armed to the teeth with halibut-slicing knives
Their three-meter horns
Gleaming in the moonlight
Guarding
All of my secrets

Skeletons, trespassers of yore,
Strewn about the seafloor
Bones picked clean
By the scavenging *****
No one can enter
No one can leave
The grotto with the shelves
Shelves and shelves of clear, glass bottles
All of my secrets

But as for the *****
For the first time in centuries
The sunlight warms the waters
Melts the kelp
Kisses the narwhals
Buries the bones and torments the scavengers
Clearing away the darkness
A nonstop route through the castle
Protecting
All of my secrets

The tendrils of photons creep along
Wary
Ready for a fight
The grotto growls menacingly
Unguarded
For the first time in centuries
But upon the first touch -
Light meets stone -
The sea shudders
Ecstasy
And in repayment for salvation
Out come the bottles
Floating to the surface
Bathing in the light
All of my secrets
He closes his eyes as usual. That starts it.
Gallon blackness against thin skin but split,

Suffused with a million rushed and serene
Shades of purple and sickly, retinal green.

Squares and curves, utterly vertical rounds
Imprinted obsidian spheres, half-sounds.

A vague intimation of abyssal, milk white:
Horizontal paradigms on the coast of sight.

Yes, indeed the whiteness on the horizon
Flutters scop-musical like a lark’s blazon.

How it snatches up the blackness, losing
Clarity of its edge like madmen’s choosing.

It ceases growing yet consumes all within
The poor man’s eyes, traversing the din.

A pure, blank line that is born in the mind
Fills the soul nacreous, leaves him behind.

Goes it beyond him and stretches open.
Straight wide. Too wide. Much too wide!

The teeth he hadn’t noticed crush him dog-brightly

And pull him fast inside.

He opens his eyes as usual. That ends it.
© Cody Edwards 2010
 May 2010 PK Wakefield
Alexa Sz
I doubted myself, I am sad to say
I went against all I was for
I judged myself from the outside
and forgot about the importance of the insides
I doubted myself and I can't believe I did
I am so much better then that

after I realized I had doubted myself
I came to see that I have been so worried
about what others think of me
and I regret it I do
I am who I want to be
no one can change that
no one can tell me what I should be
or what I should look like
because if you want to be on my good side
you're going to have to like
who I am
not what I look like

I doubted myself
and I couldn't sleep last night
because I did something
that I shouldn't have ever done

I am fortunate
and I don't need to worry

I doubted myself
I can't get it out of my head
and it stings like bees in a frenzy

I
doubted
myself
:*(
true story.
Burnt umber in the morning
As the planets do align,
Ominously holding
To the Zodiac design,
Reminding us that somewhere
In the Bible, it was said,
That by the twelfth year of this century
Whole populations would be dead.

They say it is upon us
Those children of the moon,
They say the fingers of our destiny
Shall fall upon us soon.
Calamitous catastrophe
To befall the western world
That fiscal debt implosion
Will result with fraud unfurled,

When abnormal plate subduction
Along the continent's divide
Will magnify the earthquake swarm  
Across the planet's hide.
When enormous ring tsunamis
Emanate from deep at sea
To cascade onto shorelines
To wreak extreme calamity.

Across the globe, Astrologist's,  
Say something huge is due.
Their whispers quietly amplified
To percolate to you.
What little can be done or said
It's very hard to say
Because authorities worldwide
Refuse to recognize this day,
They won't readily acknowledge
Those symptoms verily to hand,
The frequent natural disasters
Occurring in each land.

Contagion is  contagious
The whispers may be wrong,
Perhaps the future holds for us
A vastly different song,
But when the moon is full and white
And I look into her face,
I discern a bleak anxiety
Destined for the human race
I see mother nature poised
To take the heavy, upper hand
With an implacable demeanor
And un empathetic stand.

Burnt umber in the morning
As the planets do align,
Ominously holding
To the Zodiac design,
Reminding us that somewhere
In the Bible, it was said,
That by the twelfth year of this century
Whole populations would be dead.


Marshalg
@theBach
In the cold moonlight
20 May 2010
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