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Eli May 2019
soft long wisps of light honey brown hair
caught in the wind, dance on the clouds
her soft closed lips, velvet-like sounds
the rain caught in summer air
and her legs sway to-and-fro
and her mind soars with the birds
and fence she sits on purrs
as the fuzzy melody flows
the flowers sway along to the tune
the grass; torn between emeralds and gold
May cries to her lovely sister June
the pond shakes when her foot brushes its mold
everything is whispering in tune
and though everything is new, it all feels old
hee hee :)
A wall runs low against a dirt hill,
Made of cracked stone
And shattered granite.
Leafy greens climb up the wall
From the low side,
Creeping into its crevice.

A visit to the hill
Was not in my thoughts
As I was reminded by
My nightly sigh.
Perhaps it'd be better
To roll up the grass
And murmur musings
About my beloved.

So I turned away,
My shirt collar to the dirt.
Wind parting my hair as a
Whisper wisps by my ear,
"The green cracks await, my dear."

At a click,
My heart stopped.
Ecstasy poured through me
As my world rocked.
It was her:
My Queen.

And so we laughed
While we hung beneath a tree,
Two with nature
But one with me.
A patch of green
Meets the burning red
Of my skin,
It's morning dew
Slipping through my arm-
Into the Abysmal
Inner-workings
Of a soul hidden from view.
Blue skies with clouds of white
Hanging drearily above my eyes;
Gazing hazily at the ocean
That is our gentle sky.
Perhaps we are like fish-
Only we swim with more esteem.
Our sentience something profound;
Lonely we sit in wait of dreams.
They, however, pass us by,
Shifting through the cycles of life.
From the deepest darkness
Until the morning light,
Their thoughtless will fuels
Their primitive might.
So burn out your wick
As you thrash about the sea-
Exhausted and melting.
Whatever fire you extinguish
Will let the cool water sink slow.
Then the sun will surely rise
As it always has:
Above us all, through mighty fire.
Permit the stars into your life-
They will save you from false desire.
The bells rang vividly through the cold misty evening as the carolers passed by,
Their serenades intoxicating the air with more and more of that red-green aura.
Busses, cars, and even an old man with a rickshaw zoom down the street,
Promising themselves they wouldn't let up the eve someplace away from home.

A silhouette emerges from the church carrying something wet and shiny.

Two cars topsy turvied and the passengers fell asleep.

Three men point exploding pipes at each other until they all fall down.

Four women braid each others' hair with clenched fists as the red mists paint the white brick wall.

Five people, all in a row, collapse onto the tracks of an oncoming train and decide to let go.

But the omniscient presence in the domed cloud sees all as a musing, for what are we but inklings?
My mind is a sinking ship
The world's set ablaze.
Holes punched throughout the hull;
Passengers drowned in a daze.

And her contents-
Well, they got claimed as
"Lost at Sea",
I guess no salvage crew
Ever saw what I could be.

Now I'm sitting far below
This thick sheet of blue.
The sun's light only shines once
Everyday, quarter to noon.

The quiet helps me think
As darkness swells within.
The ghosts roaming
These flushed halls
Are learning how to swim.

Now they've started a mutiny
To the captain's delight.
These spirits will all be free
Long before midnight.

The sun break's through the day after,
No wreckage to be found.
Everyone has floated up
To give life another round.
A beautiful sun shines through a palm's canopy
And casts a shadow over your beach retreat.
Sitting in a lounge chair with a rumrunner in hand,
It's easy to pretend people don't get murdered here.

Now it's nighttime and the city shines alive with neon
As countless youth hop from club to club looking for fun.
Walking down the boulevard while you take in the sights,
It's easy to forget the projects you passed to get here.

The next morning starts with a hefty hangover
And ends with a delicious bandeja paisa.
You've never had such exotically good food in your life,
Yet it's easy to ignore the famished begging on the streets here.

So the next time you visit
And feel all of your problems leave you,
Remember that your tourist dollars help keep our paradise
One fit for a fool.
Nick Stiltner May 2019
Tottering at the cusp on the brink
Floorboards in the night hear the creaks
A *** overfilled and it’s constant leak,
Minds connecting, a dangling link
Blinking blinking light shrinking shrinking

Line splitter the vultures pecking at my liver
Time quitter satellite eyes swimming above the river,
Lit by moonlight, desert sand dunes and their silver shimmer

Wind on the Sahara and behind the sky
Sits the great tailor plucking at the seams
Knocking and shaking the supporting beams
And sending bricks falling and smashing
Into the floorboards of the empty room
With a porch overlooking the swaying ocean
Sarah Adams May 2019
A box of matches in your hand

You hold one before me, I catch your glance

I watch you strike it,
friction igniting an incense of fireside

I see the flame reflecting in the glossiness of your eyes

So bright and beautiful, warm

As swift as it’s flame became, it’s out

The smell of burning pine, cold

So comforting yet sullen

and without regard or regret I had fallen

Falling now, deeper into ashes

Of quickly struck matches
#ephemera #love # relationships #bliss #lovers #friendship
Julian Moses May 2019
**** you and
Your sentimentality
With your binding looks
And eyes like pistols
I could
Tear out my fingers
And still you’d coolly
Wash over me
Like the salty tides.
-2019
Been busy for a few days. Posting this poem before I go to work. Hello!
Kane Smith May 2019
hobos blow their noses while boxcars roll on slowly
an image of a hard time past.  gathered crops for
harvest.
And in earnest I have collected roses
smiled like dead heads left baking in the sun.
And in the dead of night in bed clutching my gun.
i find sleep fitfully in small doses.
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