Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 May 2013 S D S
Daniel Magner
Black and white
projections fill
the room with gallentry,
a worded battle
against hypocrisy
and cold, hearted machines.
But the picture fades,
like its impact, over the seventy
odd years since it once blared.
People have forgotten
or maybe they forgot
how to care.
© Daniel Magner 2013

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5IvPIWzQcUY
 May 2013 S D S
mark john junor
dark carnival of night lures me
its woman lay spread with stained fingers
her smile wide but vacant
her thoughts far away
from the words that escape her tainted lips
they are free to roam happy places
while her body becomes a temple
to sublime brackish waters toil
to dark things that never leave

this hour is marked with
drawn shades
but is it so far from the homes i dwelt in before
fear always at the door
incessant knocking pleading to be let in
hope never answering its phone
the endless busy elsewhere signal
the hunger of a heart
that has never even tasted another's wine
that has never known the depth of warm bliss

empty hours
waiting lights off
breath held by the window
peering out the edge
at the empty dark street below
for the call of a voice that would have saved
for a face that would have been
but never was
mine to love

i have been up and down this road
know its every misplaced stone
know its very shadows
and i have begun to perceive there
is no escape
there is no dawn coming
there is no escape
 May 2013 S D S
Raymond Johnson
at night when others sleep
we wander
and we weep
we traverse the barren expanse
guided by the winds of chance
in search of something more
wishing simply for external validation
for cessation of the petrification
of our hearts and our minds
for someone to color within our  lines
a warm body for the hard times
atonement for our crimes
of passion
and sin
longing for the simple things
hand in hand
skin on skin
an end to the chaos
and peace in all things.
There are flowers in my hair,
and a smile on his face.
Daisies are my favorites,
and he can't be replaced.

I lost my place the other day,
reading a book, and forgetting my name.
Then I remembered things were changing,
and I wanted to fall away.

I held his hand Sunday morning,
while he was half asleep, and,
I drowned my thoughts in iced coffee.

I felt the dew on my finger tips,
and the warmth floating in the air.
Daisies were growing around me,
and there was a smile on my face.

I held his locket in my palm,
and pulled petals off of flowers.
He loves me,
he loves me not.
 May 2013 S D S
Harry J Baxter
I grew up in a village
Americans always seem to laugh
at the very idea of a village
how quaint?
but I did
it was five or ten years behind the times
and in the pub,
the huntsman,
the local
there is an old Marlboro
cigarette vending machine
with lights and menthols
and 27's and reds
and milds and ultra milds
and all the others
I'm too drunk to remember
I miss those machines
bells rung of a simpler time
I miss those machines
 May 2013 S D S
Harry J Baxter
It's funny, y'know?
every guy
dreams of
a girl
around eighteen or so
wide hips
a tight ***
firm *******
flawless skin
perfect hair
kissable lips
and eyes you could drown in
then a guy meets one of these
magazine girls
and she tells him
she wants nothing to do with him
at which point
she changes in the blink of an eye
from an image of divine perfection
into just another
******* ******* ****
it's funny how that works out
Next page