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They were THOSE people.
those people with their rolled up button-down shirts and blue jeans,
who wore leather lace up shoes that were
too casual for dressy,
but too dressy for casual.
they were those people who referenced music that was
too obscure to be mainstream,
but too mainstream to be obscure.

They were alternative society

It was those peoples,
who thought themselves unlimited in their box of elitism.

They may have been the foam atop the espresso,
but they never could taste the drink.
 Apr 2015 Star G
Eva Ellen
Hungry
 Apr 2015 Star G
Eva Ellen
Sip from my soft, silky soul
Bite my hot, ****** heart
Devour my dangerously divulgent dreams
Feed on my forgotten fears
Wash it down with my whispered words
Help yourself to my everything

You say love makes you strong
You need me so you can grow
I give you my body and mind
Until I have nothing left
Except the gnawing feeling
Of being hungry...
 Apr 2015 Star G
Anastasia
Haunted
 Apr 2015 Star G
Anastasia
I used to find comfort
In darkness,
Silence,
Isolation.

But now your presence follows me
Through the night.
You cast silver shadows on my walls,
Ghastly fingers reaching for
The windowpanes

Trying

Desperately to break in.

Even the thickest of curtains
Can’t keep you out.

I am never alone
A sliver of light
Is always there
Reminding me
You are
Here too.
 Apr 2015 Star G
Elizabeth Bishop
Oh, but it is *****!
--this little filling station,
oil-soaked, oil-permeated
to a disturbing, over-all
black translucency.
Be careful with that match!

Father wears a *****,
oil-soaked monkey suit
that cuts him under the arms,
and several quick and saucy
and greasy sons assist him
(it's a family filling station),
all quite thoroughly *****.

Do they live in the station?
It has a cement porch
behind the pumps, and on it
a set of crushed and grease-
impregnated wickerwork;
on the wicker sofa
a ***** dog, quite comfy.

Some comic books provide
the only note of color-
of certain color.  They lie
upon a big dim doily
draping a taboret
(part of the set), beside
a big hirsute begonia.

Why the extraneous plant?
Why the taboret?
Why, oh why, the doily?
(Embroidered in daisy stitch
with marguerites, I think,
and heavy with gray crochet.)

Somebody embroidered the doily.
Somebody waters the plant,
or oils it, maybe.  Somebody
arranges the rows of cans
so that they softly say:
ESSO--SO--SO--SO
to high-strung automobiles.
Somebody loves us all.
 Apr 2015 Star G
Alvira Perdita
Fake
 Apr 2015 Star G
Alvira Perdita
You called me fake, and I smiled,
because knowing that you know the truth
made me endlessly happy.

Because you're the only one I wanted to know,
the only one who I wanted to know the real me;
the one who's opinion I valued a strangely large amount.
Jay,go **** yourself.
 Apr 2015 Star G
Nandini
I want to dance, the dance
Of raindrops
Cavernous steps I'd put along,
in smoked hues of grey,
in clouded cotton.

Melting suns sublimed
o'er dew dropped leaves.
Romantic ballads
on every poets page,
passionate rain and fiery sun staged.

I want to dance, the dance
Of raindrops
While you play harmony,
on the harp.
Once like the wind played,
in my chestnut hair.
The tiptoe of the rain,
bringing childhood memories
of fresh mud alive.

I want to dance, the dance
Of raindrops
The solo they perform in cackles,
of the child nextdoor.
I remember the parched streets,
the thirst song of the kuckoo,
lips dry without you my love.

Oh! How I wish,
I could dance, the dance,
the raindrops danced.
To quench that thirst of rhythm,
My beloved I want to dance.
Dancing in the rain to quench the souls thirst ,
a drop of peace everywhere!!
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