Unlock the door, I
know not life, yet do please
lock the door: **** me.

Too often this ale
What this groggy mind ponders
Now I must clock in

Are we now not on two different planes?
Hearing new songs in lay, in sideways  borograbes
By your feet too do these crisped, grey leaves scatter?
These humming autumn inscects remind me it doesn't matter

That shining floral fantasy is now merely fauna
I smother now the tinted leaved cantaluna
Can a buried flower blossom and grow?
I yearn not to care or know.

This old marigold once shimmered with light
Age and decay resisted any honest plight.
Henceforth I am the seed, waiting for the warm sun's yawn
These boyish locks now retire, waiting for a new man to dawn.

This cigarette;
A disguised kiss
Is it

This barley wine
While bathing with mine
Am I

This green
A safe dream
So it seemed


No bloom
This grief and gloom
It is
Here

Tonight my gums ache
Because of the sin of 2:41 am
And the cigarettes I stole from you
After we drank the red wine
Your father exclaimed was royal
And originally drank by Paraguay princes.

I returned home dizzy with fatigue
And empty of joy and sorrow
Apathetic because I am not engaged
So I thumb my phone book to find
Anyone who will talk or kiss
Me numb, tonight.

I can't sleep after because the box fan is purring
And the October air is not
Devoid of Magnolia scent and hope
So I lay in my bed with crumbs
Sticking to my stretch marked hips
Taunting me even beneath the barracks of my sheets.

I saw no sky-moon when you left
So I smoked another Camel Crush
On the back porch watching you leave
Once our lips sanded the sin permanent
Into our raw faces and pulsing fingers
Smacking "joyful joyful-be filled! Filled!"

I barricade pillows against the concrete headrest
That my inherited mattress sleeps on
So the cold has to try harder, tonight
Even though your lips felt dry
and your sighs left ghosts exhaling
In my mind and neck and *****.

This is how I justify sleep tonight:
An attempt to evade sins damnation
And my nature that, by Tuesday,
Will be able to paint over
The deep white lies you tongue
Painted across my prickled body.

Come, rest and restore my soul
To its belief that words are sharp
Though the imprints of your nails
And the burgundy couch fabric
Left on my body and on my soul
Are eulogized by the alarm clock set for 702am.

Poems are a way of expressing yourself in another way,
Without being punished for having your say,
There are lots of topics to write about,
And I say the without a doubt,
You may not be that good at it,
But everyone can do it,
Whether the age difference is big or small,
Or whenther you are short or tall,
You could write about being happy or sad,
Even depressed or glad,
Maybe you want to stick to the basic things like free verse,
If so you could write about a mummy with a curse,
But if you want a harder challenge you could write a haiku,
But it would have to be about a cuckoo,
But always remember the haikus rule 5,7,5,
So you don't look stupid if we're broadcasting live,
You could write about a monkey and his dream,
And he dreamt that he was finally clean,
Or what about a vegemite sandwich,
No, wait, what about a whole poem dedicated to language,
I'm not sure don't you see,
None of these appeal to me,
What about a poem where a girl's explaining a poem,
Yes, that's it, you have finally got me out of my thought pit.

written by maegan cattermull

Drunk as drunk on turpentine
From your open kisses,
Your wet body wedged
Between my wet body and the strake
Of our boat that is made of flowers,
Feasted, we guide it - our fingers
Like tallows adorned with yellow metal -
Over the sky's hot rim,
The day's last breath in our sails.

Pinned by the sun between solstice
And equinox, drowsy and tangled together
We drifted for months and woke
With the bitter taste of land on our lips,
Eyelids all sticky, and we longed for lime
And the sound of a rope
Lowering a bucket down its well. Then,
We came by night to the Fortunate Isles,
And lay like fish
Under the net of our kisses.

White rain streaks across the black rocks,
A soft palm wipes the hair from out of your eyes;
Red light immolates the room,
We are fun house mirror reflections of each other.
Unlikely, but undoubtedly, compatible.
The weight is released, and I place the laurel of muse, upon your head.
Driven like shadows, across the surface of the day,
We move in tandem with the light, but are not of it.
But, the warm caress of your affection,
It is a light, in and of itself.
The morning breeze is laughing
in your eyes I see a field of shattered suns,
Bursting forth in their brilliance.
The maddening illusion of calm is broken,
By the raging fever laboring inside me.
Engulfing my will, and burning my resistance to the ground,
Until every canvas that I capture, and claim in your name,
Bears an Image of you, and me just the same.