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 Mar 2015 rachel g
ShamusDeyo
There's nothing like the Feel
Of two wheels and the power
Between your Legs, The Pounding
Of two  Cylinders, as the engine Revs.

Wheeling through snaking roads
Surrounded by Sunlight and trees
The intense smell of fallen leaves
On a cool nights ride. Feeling free

Blasting down a two lane road.
Rolling into a small town,you
Hear the Bikes Rumble, as you
Shift down, and throttle off the gas

The roar of your bikes sound, as
It bounces off the passing buildings.
You're out of town past the Last street light
As the Stars unfold in the stark black night

The feel of the wind's a sweet taste of freedom
Content for the silence and the Bike motors hum.
As an old Biker the ride is Past, but the feel of
The wind Flowing past my face, and the pound
Of the Motors sound, still be mine, Till my Day is Done
 Mar 2015 rachel g
Spelz
Every night the actor's lover sleeps with
A stranger.

Falling in and out of love,
Her hunger for danger.

Beneath her guilty garments,
virtue dies its natural death,
Imprisoned by curiosity
sated only by infinity...
               The cycle at its birth

Every day the lover's actor lives
A different life,

Someone less in full control, she could never love. Those flavors of men she adores,
carefully selected to suit her appetite's role.

Beneath pretentious cloaks and masks,
Enslaved by his own creation,
His own invention,
His Frankenstein stands perfectly still
In her eyes... As she opens the door.
 Mar 2015 rachel g
Pea
When I talk God I mean:
You
 Mar 2015 rachel g
Kim Denise
Sometimes I ask questions
not for their answers but as
an excuse to talk to you again
and sometimes, I think to myself,
you answer because you want to talk too.
man
okay, okay okay, got very high

and, yes, very worried about what my parents will do to me

very worried about how things will turn out,

the night was family, and the family was good

I gazed out the window on the drive home and listened to pearl jam

the turrents blasted between the hills, again

yes, I was there, again
 Mar 2015 rachel g
Claudwell
Smile
you dance your hips and thighs romance
Silky words
grip my nerves
my words can hardly find me
My dear I'm here and your head lights are blinding
Caution taken
none forsaken
Thoughts were flowing
hearts were breaking
Spoke in pairs none prepared
lines of lies eyes would tear
Paper mache wants
and needs became secondary
Made the mistakes reminded every February
Never scary, never right
Never wrong to get it right
Reading words to find what's yours yeah
I know what that feelings like
 Mar 2015 rachel g
Edward Coles
I don't know why you came here.
I don't know why you brought
two gallons of wine
and a series of dresses to try on
in front of my postage stamp mirror.
I haven't slept a full night in two years.
It gets a little easier after the first.
You learn small tricks to bore yourself
into unconsciousness
but now you have given me a reason
to stay awake during the day.
How could I ever go back to dreams
now that you are stood in my doorway?
c
An empty page. The insufferable debate.
An infernal task? The everlasting trait?
A blank check? A clean slate?
The inkwell pond.  Pen and nib. Rod and bait.

Over-caffeinated.
Under-appreciated.
Anger encapsulated by the shortness of my replies.
I'm exasperated by the amount of attempts and all the tries.


Code Scrambled. Wires crossed. Software and hardware not integrated.
Emotions and objects being wrongly correlated.
Places and faces being traded.
Thoughts and feelings segregated.
Process of progress imitated.
Utterly inundated.
Brain cells being immolated
So that my mind and my soul can become assimilated.  
Self-worth: Underestimated.
These points are not to be debated.

Swoon confused with brood.
A smiling clown dances around the center ring.
Inside he's centering his self around the latitude and longitude of
The highest hilltops of Mt. Pisspoorattitude.
Without the slightest shred of gratitude towards any good deed done for him past the 5 minutes of thank you that he spouts off at the peak of the mountain.
If at first you don't succeed, just cry and cry again.

The concept rocket pulls the cap off the the pen sprocket
Ink spews everywhere. A shiny black geyser erupts from the rig.
Men shouting back and forth to one another. There's no way to contain it. We've sprung a leak, the oil is in our water. The oil is our blood.
Erasing, no, smearing. No control. No Z's either. Analog ****-ups.
Chasing my tail, driving the same circuit.
Racing as Yoshi with a broken control stick

I've had a hell of a time on Uncle Sam's dime.
I disappeared behind the words written on my mirror long ago.
Am I a wreck or is this the requiem of my dreams?
Only A Week
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