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MsAmendable Jul 2015
The slow, smooth, slick of ice
Runs down cold iron bars
Snapping cackling dry grass
Crunching under every step
Loosing momentum, shedding its vice
Freezing wet my fingertips
Electric cold, my fingers slip
Down the bar of ice
To meet the maker of its own device
Sethnicity Jun 2015
Very few stars behind bars coincidence, I don't think so.
I'm glad to see progress. Just wonder why it's so hard for humans to embrace change and perspective.
Mia Barrat Jun 2015
I only had one window in the world.

This window, like a scrawny kid, had been recently clobbered by the rain.

Just looking at the trickling rain made me all cold. That was when I pondered
all the things we
could have done
yesterday,
eyes closed,
lying above the sheets.

I thought about your breath close to my ear,
staccato, powerful,
like wind during a storm.
And I thought about our bodies: mine, cold; yours, burning - entwined, our bodies make a
Hurricane.
Then again, it is what it is. Your heart is cold to me; you think my heart is too feverish: you think it needs to be exiled, quarantined,
outside
underneath the rain.

ORIGINAL POEM (OR CHANCE TO ROCK OUT YOUR BEAUTEOUS FRENCH ACCENTS)

*Je n’avais qu’une fenêtre sur le monde.
Comme un gosse maigre, elle se faisait
tabasser par la pluie.
J’avais froid rien qu’en contemplant le
ruissellement. C’est alors que je pensé à toutes les choses qu’on
aurait pu faire
hier
au-dessus des draps
les yeux fermés.
J’ai pensé à ton souffle près de mon oreille,
puissant et saccadé
comme un vent de tempête.
Et j’ai pensé à nos corps: le mien froid, le tien
brûlant - entrelacés, nos corps font un
Ouragan.
Mais enfin, tant pis. Ton coeur m’est froid;
mon coeur t’est trop fiévreux: il le faut
exiler, il le faut mettre en quarantaine,
dehors,
au-dessous de la pluie.
Hey! If you'd like me to translate one of your pieces to Français, do ask! I love doing it and it's great practice for me.
Poetic T May 2015
My voice is my bars that caged me ,
My thoughts my cell that are sealed shut,
My body now kept in this living hell.

A voice has power to change with but
An exhale, but winds that blow in a
Certain direction can be stopped as
Others may not like the change
That this wind bring upon it.

A thought can be shared, never
spoken but told over a million times.
But one voice may not be heard but
When one word is spoken a thousand
Times at once it is heard everywhere.

My conscious thoughts were voiced
And now I pay the price that is worth
This hell, for my thoughts became words
And words became voice heard around
The world, here comes the wind of change.
political prisoners behind bars for voice and thoughts heard by those fearful of a wind of change..
Grizzo May 2015
On the other side
of my over  
                 thinking

I’ve come to realize I still have
more questions
                         than answers

The future feels just the same as
it did ten years ago when my now
was my future
                       then

Friends are more often
thought about
                       than visited

when later today turns into tomorrow
and tomorrow turns  
                                into this weekend
and then next weekend
once a month  
                        whenever you can

because time pushes us all into
this strange thing
                            called Life

and it’s full of all kinds of *******
designed to rob you of
your money
                    your sanity
                                       your time

but don’t let this discourage you
from greeting tomorrow
                                      with open arms

and a head full of more questions
than answers

The magic doesn’t seem
to happen as often,
but on the days it does

You have a good day at work,
you pay all the monthly bills on time,
your schedule syncs with an old
college friend and you meet for
coffee, or street tacos from a
local food trailer, or you shoot
pool and whiskey at a dive bar
early Saturday evening

and it feels like the old times again,
and you learn the things you did
were your first stumblings into
adulthood and even though they
sometimes change the way you walk
forever, it’s those times you discover
again when you start your third game
and the songs you queued on the jukebox
start playing and now that you can enjoy
the taste of good whiskey more than the
quantity of well, and all the loose fragments
of the memories we carry every day, left open
on the table in a journal with more strikeout
lines than unmolested phrases all become
complete with each corner pocket called
shot, each memory recalled and retold with
language alluding Greek Epics and Shakespearean
Tragedies,

It all starts to make more sense in ways
and stops making sense in others,

and the future is the same as it always was

some things
                    you can change,
some people
                    you can keep
some days
                  turn into weeks,
                  months, and years
                  trying to make sense
of what’s coming,
of what’s gone,
of just what, exactly,
                                we have now.
Mesmed Jausa Apr 2015
red straps across the back
lashes delicately placed across desires -
far too engrossing for the average passerby

draw it in, blow it out, drained
Brianna Apr 2015
I won't miss your neon signs saying cocktails
I won't miss your judgmental dive bars and ****** hipster conversation.
I'll miss the soul in your music.
The best of the drum and strum of guitar the last night I saw this town for the **** hole it was.

I won't miss your trendy beer and lines of ******* across the toilet.
I won't miss the way girls wore shorts in the snow or boots in the summer.
I'll miss the soul in your heartbeat.
The way this town never sleeps and the way we stayed up wandering past midnight wondering about life.

I won't miss those people who pretend to know me.
I won't miss the way you pretended to love me.
I'll miss the soul in your music.
I'll miss the sweet innocence and the lost wonder as I speed as far away as I can from the place I once called home.
Mark Lecuona Apr 2015
She looked like she had it all together
She laughed more in ten minutes than I had in a month
I wanted to talk to her about it
But I didn’t want to dump my pain on her all at once

I’d never seen such a natural beauty
It wasn’t just her face, it was the way she wore it
There was nothing to draw attention
Except her happy eyes and the way they were lit

You don’t look like you need me baby
But you’re not wearing a ring
You’re out on the town
You don’t look like you’re missing a thing
But everybody needs somebody
And I want it to be me
I just have to calm myself down
And remember it’s real and not a dream

There she goes out the door
Her long brown hair waving goodbye
If I hadn’t been so taken
I wouldn’t have acted so shy

It seemed whatever I could say
Couldn’t open a door that didn’t need to open
I guess love is just about luck
You can’t walk up and say you’re the one I’ve chosen

You don’t look like you need me baby
But you’re not wearing a ring
You’re out on the town
You don’t look like you’re missing a thing
But everybody needs somebody
And I want it to be me
I just have to calm myself down
And remember it’s real and not a dream
Song lyrics... you know the beauty across the bar...
Justin S Wampler Apr 2015
To all the aspiring alcoholics and
the future lung-transplant candidates.

keep it up.

The world is better without us.
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