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[Day 1] -
We see that you’re navigating
Navigating issues
We believe that we can help you
Navigate them

Are you sure of yourself?
It’s okay if you’re not
If you don’t want us, you may leave at any time.
Your 5-day trial starts now.
We are here for you
To help



[Day 2] -
Share with us your feelings
Share with us your doubts
Share with us your concerns
Share with us your time

We will give you our attention
We will give you our love
We will give you what you need
We are here for you
To help



[Day 3] -
We noticed that you were thinking
We’re concerned about what we heard
Are you okay?
Tell us

It’s okay to share...
...
We are here for you
To help



[Day 4] -
We noticed your thoughts have persisted
We’re getting increasingly concerned for you
Everyone has expressed their concerns
We don’t want this to hurt our community
We want you here

Are you still here?

Hello?

We are here for you
To help



[Day 5] -
We gave you everything
Now it’s time to pay
Did you not read the contract we made for you?
You could have left us at any time
But now it’s past the date

We are here for you
To help



[Day 6] -
Give us your ******* soul.
Now.
Don’t jeopardize this wonderful community.
Are you not proud of this community?

Did you not realize we own your life now?
We can withdraw our love from you at any time.
Are you not loving enough to want our love?
Don’t you love this community?
Where is your love?

We are very tolerant.
We love unity in our community too much
to allow your divisive thinking.
So now,
Give us your soul.

As we have always said,
We are here for you
To help
Us.
Shofi Ahmed Mar 2017
Tomorrow we have all
the good reasons to wake.
The earth’s column
down the sky will stay high!
  
The same old first light will break out,
unveiling once more the face of earth.
Log on now it’s present,
don’t let it vanish away!

Many a time rallies of clouds
shroud the blue sky.
There is no need for anyone
then just to turn away.

The stars too illume
the sky with dim lights.
Maybe the chaste moon
then comes out swimming low
in the orb of the night.
So the sun, too, for a while
goes off into the hide.
Only to show up soon and align
above the earth’s column.

Atop a blooming new dawn
with the rose facing the sun
aligning to it’s shining polished line
passes through the present time.
So don’t just let it slip away!
Pagan Paul Oct 2016
.
She rides, a silver circlet on her brow.
Wearing the Green of the forest.
Eyes of hazel hold a proud gaze.
Child of the woods, beautiful and fey.
Her name is Leaf, Maiden of the Glades.

She sighs, a longing look in her face.
Yearning for her Lord of Green.
Heart in love with the King of Trees.
Born of the forest, body and spirit.
Maiden of the Glades, the Lady Leaf.

She waits, for Green is far away.
Watching the changes in the woods.
As seasons wax and wane cascades.
Woman entranced, by the living Trees.
Her name is Leaf, Maiden of the Glades.

She cries, a moon daisy in her hair.
Filling the lake of mystical tears.
His absence exhumes an eternal grief.
Body and spirit, beautiful and fey,
Maiden of the Glades, the Lady Leaf.


© Pagan Paul (23/06/16)
.
Lord of Green series, poem 2
.
Pagan Paul Aug 2016
Lord of Green


My name is Rook, Lord of the Greenwood.
Protector of the Forest, Shepherd of the Trees.
The Maiden of the Glades, my Lady Leaf
speaks the truth with everything she sees.

I mourn the loss of spinneys and copse.
I grieve at the death of my beautiful Trees.
Lady Leaf cools me, soothes my torrid ire
and speaks truth with everything she sees.

The truth she speaks, are the words of Nature.
Making me weep, as she brings sun to the day.
Waking my slumbering world, arousing the Green
so deer can graze, birds can sing and We can play.

The truth she speaks, the words 'I love you'
burn into my breaking heart, and I feel relief.
I see the forest anew, my Trees come to life.
Teaming into me, thank you my sweet Lady Leaf.

© Pagan Paul (17/06/16)
.
Lord of Green series, poem 1
.
heathen Nov 2016
"Is this anti-feminist of me?" I wonder out loud into the steam as I shave the fine, tiny hairs in my armpit. "Maybe," it whispers back, "I don't know."

Showering is very therapeutic for me. Being around or in any body of water usually is. This time gives my thoughts free reign, wondering about anything that the structure of my day doesn't normally allot time for. I think - or don't - dumping my stream of consciousness down the drain with my conditioner, rinsing myself of impurities.

---

I’ve killed my third plant in two months. They were all those little succulents too, the ones that are supposed to be next to impossible to **** up. A plant that has grown and adapted and learned to thrive in harsh environments, can sustain life for months without any water or even sunlight, through sandstorms and deep permeating frosts and being trampled on by...a camel? An armadillo? I’m actually not really sure where succulents are naturally indigenous from. I bought mine on the cheap from Trader Joe’s. Maybe California? Anyway, it can flourish all completely on its own - and I killed it. This is my relationship with plants. I so desperately want to feel like I am the kind of person who is attuned to life and have a natural synchronicity to all things living. I like to tell my friends that I am Snow White and that the elements and the animals all bend to my touch and my will. The idea is to purposely come across as boastful but I know that when I repeat this terrible joke over and over, the person I’m truly trying to convince of that is myself. Hovering, I keep a watchful eye over what I have put so much investment in and tweak and pinch and poke until I am positive every aspect of their care and growth has been properly attended to. And then they die. I pour too much care into my wards and leave them drowning, but only with the best of intentions. Nature vs. nurture vs. me.

This is my relationship with people. I can become overbearing. I know I can. So, I make sure that I’m not. I’ve got that deep-seeded nurturing aspect that is laced within my responsible, eldest female caretaker upbringing, which translates to me being overly affectionate but also being headstrong and yell-
y. I just want the best for you, I say as I smother my loved ones. I sigh and exfoliate my feet.

After draining all of my thoughts, I emerge from the shower into this wall of humidity. I feel sterile and perfect. This whole scene feels like some sort of cinematic metaphor for rebirth, but really I'm just trying to look presentable for work. I grab my fat purple towel and pat dry my face. While I'm blinded, I shuffle to position myself in front of the mirror. *****, I throw my towel to the side to reveal myself. I play this game every time I bathe, and every time I hope to unveil a new person. I look at myself in the fogged mirror. Still me, just wetter. Shinier. Pinker.

---

"You know, 'pinker' isn't a real word," my friend who I read this to tells me. "You should replace it with 'more pink.'"

"You know," I start, "language isn't even, like, a real thing. It's just a set of ancient rules and guidelines based in other dead 'languages' to give ourselves boundaries of comfort and live in predictability and reason. I'm shaping language to my vernacular to best portray my thoughts and ideas to you. You know what I'm trying to say, anyway. After all, language is just another construct. It keeps communication within a nice, neat little package, therefore it keeps creativity and free thought in a nice, neat little package. I'm, like, redefining definitions. I'm making words my own. Like Dr. Seuss! I'm like ******* Dr. Seuss. Zoopity Zoo and Binkity *****! That means 'Step outside of your temple of familiarity, you ******* sheep person.'"

I was never one to take constructive criticism very well.
My friend goes home. I go to take a shower.
heathen Feb 2018
The walls are breathing
Fervently
I am breathing
Shallow and labored
This house
which holds up a home
has fewer stressors on its joints
than I do
heathen Oct 2017
00:54; we are eating silently in the same room, but not with each other. We both have had hard days and it seems like our company won't do anything to make it better. He touched me. It wasn't the way I needed to be touched today.

10:24; I'm awake now and even my own company won't do anything to make it better. The day is so warm that it makes me nauseous, but I stay in the sun anyway. I don't read the news today.

14:30; this book store is having an outdoor sale and I spend $4 to impress the cute sales clerk on my obscure picks.

15:04; I'm home and I eat 2 and 1/2 carrots. My day-to-day grind keeps me busy but does it do anything for me? Everything I touch I reduce to being a waste of time meant for something better. I sound pessimistic but I truly don't believe that I am.

17:12; I'm out and he's out with me and we're doing a project together. Our minds create great things when they touch but that doesn't happen as often as I want to. I'm hungry and I'm reminded that I am responsible for feeding myself.
I wrote student fees and it autocorrected to
fears

My friend was drunk and said CV
when they meant VC

Volunteering is sold to us like a product,
it's not that it's good in of itself,
it's good for your self,
it'll look good on your CV

it'll look good on your CV
it'll look good on your CV
it'll look good on your CV

if only you could see me
if only you could see me
if only you could see me

you'd see the way my face freezes or flinches
either one,
there is a pain that runs across my face like an electric shock

dehumanising someone is like they invented a wireless, handsfree, bluetooth way of stabbing someone,
you can do it without touching me,
but I can assure the pain in my chest will tell you otherwise,
you have cut me

please help me find the plug at the wall
help me restart
help me find the USB charger
help me connect

you've convinced me that if I claw at my arm long enough
wires will spark and spit at me
I am a machine because you treat me as one

like when they ask for my number at Student Health
or they ask for my number at Studylink
or they ask for number at the Bank
I remember I am nothing like everyone else.

Does logging off look bad on your CV?
CV is curriculum vitae, VC is vice chancellor (aka the person in charge of the university)
Kevin Mar 2017
scorning sun bursts into the aisles of graying curly waves,
punching yellow teeth and candied sweets with the
green of loving laughter that i've not heard in years.

you taught our fingers to bleed of bramble dew.
so sticky in our attempts to keep Genevieve's crystal filled but,
clear of improper pounds. collected ounces that rudely
overflow, are picked with mudded, forested feet.

consumed so clean and sweet, from thorns
between the brush, the aisles buzzed of summers paths
that only lead us where we knew.

through the scales and passed the cords
where drying life would heat our warmth,
nights would drop with echoing sounds like trains
slowly passing through our country's vacant crossing.

you voluminous sap of unaccounted ooze.
you sweet maple so never barren or dull.
you flame of northern light.

take me back to the path we passed
where cords are dried to burn
where frogs croak in Côté's creek
where my memories live and yearn
These are the memories I have of my lovely French Canadian Grandparents. My grandfather died when I was three, my only memory of him is collecting sap from maple trees and making maple syrup. The memories of my grandmother are her Crystal Candy jars always full, her yellow teeth stained from cigarettes, going blueberry and raspberry picking barefoot in the summer at our log cabin, her undeniably infectious laugh, and snoring so loud at night it could keep the dead awake.
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