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 Sep 2014 Petal pie
Ryan Jakes
Home.
 Sep 2014 Petal pie
Ryan Jakes
Home again
the post surgery high long gone
anaesthetic only numbs so much
spending days just sitting,
stagnating with your photo's
and scarlet ringleted dreams
of friendships saved by other methods.
Many coloured sprinkles of poison
line my dresser in precise rows
I sit as the clock watches me watch it,
no thunder running through the halls seems strange but oddly comforting in it's absence.
This constant itch in plaster binding
could drive me to drink, if I could reach the tinkling cabinet of liquid safety but instead you and ink become my drug of choice, one to cause the pain, the other to move it on, a cycle known to all who have travelled with their hearts firmly stitched to their muddy sleeve.
 Sep 2014 Petal pie
Ryan Jakes
She sings, mostly at night, pouring words from her coveted heart
tapestries rich with regret and carnal groans, bring heat and quench thirst
with tears.
She sings, do you hear her melody
as it reaches in to chill your soul?
I am obsessed with her fluid form
as she runs through our midst
wearing her path through life's granite sidings.
She is everything and nothing to all. She is both the glory of sunrise and the fear within darkness. A riddle within the enigma of an existence mourned. I celebrate the death of each lover that has serenaded without honour at her broken threshold, overjoyed by the lack of harmony as they flounder within her precious stare.
For Cal. I'm bored therefore I write utter nonsense, or is it?
 Sep 2014 Petal pie
r
whiskey whispers
sound like you

a burning smokey river
-fire down below

kiss my fever

whiskey whispers-
get me through.

r ~ 9/21/14
\¥/\
   |     •
  / \
 Sep 2014 Petal pie
Jeffrey Pua
You made...
...this goldfish...
...smile.

© 2014 J.S.P.
I often feel alone
even though I 'm reminded
that I have family
that loves me

but sometimes

Family is just a mirror that
chooses to reflect every bad decision
you've ever made in your life
while hiding behind the glass

Sometimes, conversations are held
on one way streets, where sin only comes
in black and white, and the ones that love you
hold gavels between clenched fists

Sometimes, love looks like scorn
and hugs feel a lot like straight jackets that
leave bruises in the shape of hearts
and I-told-you-sos

So I'm alone, and a sinner
*tell me something I didn't already know.
 Sep 2014 Petal pie
Francie Lynch
I'm anxious of leaving,
I know where
It's leading,
To a cave
With no
Rear exit.
It's dark,
So dark,
My fears
Are well-grounded,
There's only room
For me.

The guards
Have fallen asleep;
A crack appears
In the wall.
Sun's golden fingers
Reach my pall:
Attitude shifts,
Blackness lifts,
I'm not
Alone
At all.
 Sep 2014 Petal pie
Francie Lynch
Autumn is icumen in,
With all its tricks,
Its treats and whims.

I can't mourn
Summer's passing;
Those days
Of idle slumber.
Summer suns
And midnight moons,
The silhouettes of June;
Holiday highs,
Mad July;
The robust garden
Lust of August.

I won't.

Autumn air
Affronts my senses,
The Arctic cool
Dips and rules.
The moss has left
The trees;
Arthritic twigs
Let lose
The leafs.

     *Autumn is icumen in


Autumn,
With its foils
And foibles,
Rakes us in
With harlequin sins,
And all its
Wherewithal.
Embrace your fall.

     *Winter is icumen in
I borrowed "icumen in" from a 9th century anonymous poet, in a bit called, "Summer is icumen in."
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