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Andrew Rueter Jun 2020
I’m turning from Blanche DuBois into Chris Benoit
taking a streetcar named Desire to Monday Night Raw
after the oppression of the law got stuck in my craw
because the discretion of the flawed became the voice of God.

I’d always relied on the kindness of strangers
only to find the Million Dollar Man’s danger
directing the Army Rangers to Jesus’ manger
letting the Undertaker deal with the remainder.

I relinquished my rightful place
to the bank’s Crippler Crossface
taking everything until I lost grace
going into a holocaust craze.

I’m upset about the places I can’t go
because I’ll be ***** by Marlon Brando
when I ask the referee for a hand though
he just responds with a ****** no.

I have retired my display of Vivian Leigh
now Whatever by Our Lady Peace plays
as the Rabid Wolverine walks to the stage
to fight the Big Boss Man in a cage.

I gave up teaching class to my sister
to fight an *** who’s a mister
whose slaps can blister
so he blasts this spinster.

The law is a tougher opponent than Eddie Guerrero
so I apply my aptitude into becoming a pistolero
after getting jabbed by my French Quarter pharaohs
I can feel resistance down in my Marc Mero.

I start to take steroids
because there are boys
whose terror noise
impairs my poise.

I go all out performing flying headbutts
fighting until I see the dead’s guts
exterminating enemies like bed bugs
but then I start to dread hugs.

Now I assume a stranger’s spite
so I can immediately fight
I’m swallowed by night
wearing these tights.

In my rage I **** my wife and son
now my anger is no longer fun
even if it came from their gun
it’s me who’s the loneliest one.

I changed from a lady to a wrestler losing my ****** mind
fighting Mankind while stepping on landmines
until I can’t find any grand signs
and I’m anger defined.
Path Humble Nov 2014
a series of random questions
all asking,
some ending in,
a few beginners,
where from...

from where,
do the haters come from?

the pleasure of mass ******,
in what gene,
from what cell, possessed,
that you seek it as a life's rationale,
so easy?


from where,
derived
the notion that you,
politician professional
behind closed doors,
bend over to the private interest
your public pretense,
couched lies,
the idea mocking me,
you know what's better
fraud,

from where,

did this despotic greed arise?

from where,
this endless depression,
a session with no end,
don't recall the beginning,
whence the end,
where the end,
freedom from it,
climb out from Joseph's pit,
the exit come
from?

from where,

does inspiration come from?

from
intimacy with the inanimate,
the population of objects,
coarse, beauteous that provoke,
the museums, the gutter, the worn,
the just unrealized, imagined,
from
learning to speak hearts
to speak the heart language

from
from animated blood, eyes, taste buds,
when you pass thru the molecules of me,
by contact real or imagined,
desperation, satisfaction organic,

from where,
from where do these questions arise,
the answers as well,
they are tangible, yet intangible,
even

from,
a notion indistinct,
an untraceable path,
hidden routers,
deflecting reflecting,
even a current direct,
invisible to the naked

from where?

a fair question,
answers, unreliable,
for in the forming,
froming is always
transfigured,
distorted

so let's agree,
the
mother, mater, matters not,
of from,
unsolvable, soluble,
the origin, source,
the river-head is a wasted search

only the acts of yours,
even/or the poems,
all realized ~
undeniable

from you, your hand

that is the only answer to
a question,

from where,

wherein from
comes both,
the contained,
and the
uncontained.
Mayara Giorno May 2020
Shower in my blood

I feel your heat

my simmer

We are far

far from love


But I’m falling

at landing

will there be a pillow?


Crocodiles ****

but you can torture

you have more power

over me than you realize


Power struggle


You always win

because I ******* let you


But I don’t want to let you, anymore

because I’m a ******* shark


I’ll bite your ***** off

and leave your timber.
Michelle Apr 2020
Gently course upon
a gentle stream.
If you had known then,
dear Traveler,
would you have the wisety now?
Nat Lipstadt Apr 2020
~for the men and women who fish to feed the soul of others~


this spring we will not walk Central Park.  The cherry blossoms and the new buds will go unobserved, and just like a
felled tree
in the forest, their birthing,  weeping, and silent dying, will go unheard.

but the roses come!

delivered by Whole Foods, red roses included with our food order,
for red roses are a vital staple, a gift of the globalized logistical feat that feeds we eight million prisoners, a red beacon to all currently

held in solitary confinement.

The men who bring them from the Netherlands, and the men from the Caribbean who deliver them, they by virus, as of yet, have not

been felled.

and I turn my mind’s eye to the mountains of heaven asking
“From Where will Come Our Salvation?”^

heaven answers with a wry awry, why Whole Foods, of course!

the cut roses pass in a few days, their heads slumped over, victims of their own virus, the inevitability + cyclicality of time.

but the petals, pose a question,
as they too are
felled and fall,
how is our death different from yours?

neither I, or the quietus of the empty streets,
even heaven,
have a ready reply;
for all of us are
felled, fallen,
by an onerous, hungry
silence.



^ Psalm 121:1
Emily Mar 2020
I see the golden rays of sunshine
On the street and against the houses
I long to bask in it
And absorb all of warmth and beauty

There are trees blossoming
Flowers are blooming
Bees are busy zooming

Oh how beautiful it is outside
I wonder what the parks might be like

But alas, I cannot go
I am to stay inside
Only to observe nature’s greatness
From my clear glass window
Elizabeth Meza Feb 2020
and for a second i remembered why i fell in love with you all those years ago
it wasn’t just the laugh or the way your eyes lingered for a half a second too long but the way you made me feel in your presence,
like there was nothing else in the world that could draw your attention from my words.
but then i remembered, the temper, the walls, the vast insecurities that strangled you at night, and i remembered why i moved on,
you could never love me the way you loved being lost and i knew
i could never find you.
Ezinne Feb 2020
Scared deep in my shadows,
Scared I would die alone,
Still no soul to follow,
Have I truly lost control.

Scared in the day time,
Scared in the night time,
My spirit died playing whisper,
Never was i prone to suffer.

A wild universe with golden shadows,
Skies turn stories to sorrows,
Crying baby born quiet till tomorrow,
Burning Summer,
Silent oceans,
Walking waves,
Memory called lonely,
This I call poetry.
zz Feb 2020
I never regret
Choosing you
To make
My heart
Smile
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