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 Aug 2013 Sunny Devo
K M
The color made his eyes dance

A trick of the light, for certain

How they shown

He took such care

Folding and pressing

A stack of buttons

And collars

And sleeves
 Aug 2013 Sunny Devo
sam h
Is there a ghost inside my soul?
Or two or three all black as coal?
The devil's play things exist so well!
Example one: white zinfandel.
Intoxication confrontation!
Demon spell molestation.
Inside my cranium's example two.
Swollen membrane with evil hue.
Why spurt these words on this page
while I'm trapped inside the Devil's cage?
I'll look back and all I'll see
Is a broken sort of sympathy.
Exit my thoughts through a blank pupil
and my sight will flicker as I try to sit still.
**** the forefront of my mind.
Its just a mask for those who won't find
the truth behind the words I say.
Passive agressive flux of cabernet.
I’m borderline introvert, extrovert
Don’t try to tell me who I am
Through a test
I am nothing you’ve seen yet
Apples and oranges
But I’m a tangerine with a slice of green
And I’m borderline upset with the world
I try to understand
I try to make it right
Go and feed my cat
Fall asleep at night
But you can’t tell me who I am,
'Cause I’m sitting on the borderline
Going every direction
There’s no end
Are you gonna pay for that *******?
Count my tens
Then start again
This is a metaphor for your mind
But let your soul think free
I’m just a ***** for your hind
Come and get me
It seems like life is just one long, bad acid trip for some people...

They're so uncomfortable..
So scared..
So confused.

You do something nice for them, and they think you're deceiving them..

You do something with style, and they envy you..

You make one mistake, and they despise you.

Sometimes I just have to pull myself away and look in the mirror, just so I know, I'm not one of them.
He led her through two large wooden doors, into the unknown.
She walked the tiles of the Japanese floors inside the Temple;
pondering about and peering on the wonders of a new world.
She almost swooned at the sights! Wanted to faint in exultation..

"What a beautiful place," she exclaimed, then continued with:
"If only I could live in such a place, and even that wouldn't suffice
all that I have missed in my own corner of the Earth, all these years.
All should see what I see here! All should experience
such a different way; the way which I have seen now; here."

He looked down upon her petite structure with confusion
and said "You have safety in your home; people die here
every day; struggle to survive; try to escape a hell
each morning rise again. This is no place for you.
Do you know what it is like to fear for your life?
Do you know how much training it takes just to know
you are safe from harm?"

She absorbed his sentences, but remained
unchanged in her thoughts. She responded with dignity:
"But it is an honest life.
Where I come from, we are living in a lie,
and more than half of our people don't even question it;
or even realize such things.
Sure, your body is not safe here, in this place,
but where I come from, your soul is not safe.
And the way I see it -- I'd much rather a sword
strike my back,
then a thought
haunt my being.
Everyone is escaping something."
silent rues of naked nectar
night and night again
tireless mind-crimes
strike the clock within

a soothing sail
and an abrupt contradiction
weening its way into
something non-fiction

but not a correction
a little less pleasing
a change of direction
that finds you in leaving

a moment of truth
and a gathered up sweeping
but changes are due
and time is not sleeping
She said she wanted to walk every inch of the Earth's soil, just to see it.
But when she had the chance, she hesitated.
Listening for direction, the wind blew by;
and she never knew why
she never walked at all.
It
They say not to use the word "it" in poetry,
because it is too obscure,
but I still use it,

Because why bother waiting around for others to understand,
when "it" could be anything you want it to be.
And who is "they" anyway?
Whether I wanted to see it or not,
it was undeniable and I had to admit
that she was the only human being
that came close to who I was,
which in a way, caused me to love her,
setting aside the gray matter
and spoken words.
You're not good at much of anything at all,
but lusting lovers and crowding tombs.
No love -- provoke, provoke.
No love -- until we choke.
And ever since
the days we spoke,
you broke between the ways...
Cinders of past lays
wake on your walls.
You sit and think of me,
as I think of nothing at all.
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