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Natalie Walker Dec 2014
Today I am a cracked canoe floating atop a restless ocean

My map was caught in the furry of a wave and melted away
into papery sea foam that oozed
through my hopeful fingertips

I taste nothing but salt
every time the wind whimpers your name
but still, I paddle on
with quaking palms and knotted shoulders
I paddle on
until the wind sleeps soundly
in the embrace of yesterday,
I paddle on.
Anneke Nov 2014
I can change
the speeds,
but I will always increase
in time and distance.

A seemingly endless
track of rubber
energized by electricity,
worn out by the steps
I and those before me
have already made,

But I can choose
to get off
and stop.


I just haven't decided
how or when
I will get off.
A body like running pavement
and filled with
skidmarks --
broken pictures of sunset sky between trees
power lines--
they fall and rise like waves,
quickly flashing.

A mind like an endless set of highways
there's no map to tell
where anything could end up--
ideas that are
headlights, move with uncontrolled velocity,
bobbing in the darkness, wheels
humming from the engine, throaty engine--
voice that's a radio, projects songs
and thoughts
to the passengers--

it's not a roller coaster, we don't choose to be behind a wheel
but we're all in our vehicles
with horns
and shouting matches and road rage,
swearing, arguing our luck,
gambling the speed limit
to try to get to all our destinations
"on time"
but God only wants you to feel the wind rushing
through your rolled-down windows,
or contemplate on silent journeys, a
seemingly never ending stretch of road,
breathe through the starry summer nights,
sunlight flickering on rooftops,
dirt paths in forests,
trees, lights,
pedestrians,
a hitch hiker,
clouds,
parks,
mountains,
cities,
stoplights,
billboards,
­but all you see is the
pictures fading into a blur--
blurring,
all
blurring,
and sudden--*

                          collision.
don't take it for granted.
Stevie Ray Nov 2014
Ink flows through my veins
sharpen blades on my wrist
bleeding on paper
swallowing my pain
through the clenching of my fist
slicing through tendons
feeling dismembered
like I'm expelled from a group
coming up is December
a time spent together
yet I'll probably sit with my Solitude
me and him in my room
with paper and knife
cutting myself to see
what my blood will write
Innards embody a scribe
parts of me die
either given away
or taken from me
my blood is here for you to read
honost and open
no flow of deceit
and not a trace of defeat.
Darian Houser Nov 2014
Self healing is amazing.
Sometime I rather dream forever and never wake up.
What matters to me is what I can not see.
Just like oxygen love is vital.
Seems too often love is idle.
I see myself adjust to ways or games I thought I'd never play.
In retrospect I was already liquified dope
Easy to follow, but then I knew sorrow
When I vent and repent it is usually rare
It is not a coincidence when our emotions bleed bare
Stay aware of the masks that we all tend to wear
I never experienced a nightmare
Who is scared of what the night shares?
Were all connected now spiritually and through the internet, so stay alert and never fumble to negative interceptions
Electric relaxation is a humble connection
Perception is a trip because I never seen my self
Crazy who I think I am I'm not to someone else
Serene, for the moments
Steady, on an orbit whirl
Self healing is amazing.
Ready for these foreign worlds.
Tuesday, November 25, 2014 3:16 AM
Lacey Nov 2014
There is wet sand in my veins
and I’ve never seen the ocean-
but I thought I saw it in your eyes.
Maybe I was only trying to find
the salt water
to help me float.
You were silken yet solid, a work of art
I felt I did not deserve.
Yet under every glistening
oceans’ waves
swims monsters and demons
we cannot see
or the pressure will crush us.
I am a cyclone
twisting in every direction:
dizzy, destructive, and dying.
But I am still. Too still.
Calm before the storm.
Calm before the storm.
If this is calm, god please
let me dissolve…
Enigmuse Nov 2014
Zinc is needed to help support the body's immune system, as well as encourage human growth, meaning that without it, defenses and growth are stunted

I met a boy named Zinc
correction
I met a man named Zinc
correction
I met a man who called himself 'Z' even though his parents still called him 'boy' and named him Zinc, because Neon
was too flamboyant and Iron was too tasteless, and who on earth names their kid 'Oxygen', right?

ANYWAY:

It's worth noting that Z liked everyone, meaning A-X, and I was left wondering why he seemed to like girls who waved with the backs of their hands and not the palms, and why the only time he spoke to me was if I wouldn't leave him alone, and why it's obvious to those around him that lights are flashing in the eyes of 'why'-
correction
-'Y'-
correction
-ME when he noticed the stars I stole from the night in an attempt to spell his name out for the Gods but he was too busy hoping to catch the attention of the Devil and I hope she breaks his heart so he knows what it's like to wake up feeling empty because you gave your all to a person with a gambling problem, and I...
...don't make sense anymore.

ALRIGHT

I met a man who called himself 'Z' even though his parents still called him 'boy' and named him Zinc, and he didn't like the chain around my neck, but he let me wear it because it reminded him of hope, which he had lost when he was young, but had vicariously experienced through me. Just kidding.
Her.
Capital 'H', lowercase '-er', silent 'she's not going to love you like I will'...

I LIED

he doesn't know I wear a cross (or used to) because he's too busy falling in love with the fact that she's got daggers in her eyes and she knows how to dance to all his favorite songs, while I only know the lyrics to them all, and maybe she won't break his heart but she sure as hell won't be gentle with it either because girls like me write about girls like her and girls like her burn books about boys like him.

I'm not sure what this poem is about. Or why it is the way it is. That's a lie.
I know, but I can't say I want to anymore...

TO BE CONTINUED...
Kota Nov 2014
The world is colder when you open up its’ jaws.
The sign says no, but your heart says go.
You’ll blame the stars or the snakes beneath your feet,
don't forget to hide the receipt.
You inject blame to the dead.
Where are your morales, where is your sense?
Where is the blood when you need to mend?
This is your fault and this is your sword.
Please, take your daily dose.
Ignore our existence, so you can beg for more.
Beg for the claws inside your heart.
And once they’re out, once they melt,
I promise, I promise
It’ll cool you like a quilt.
I promise, No!
I guarantee-

You’ll miss the bruises and the cuts.
You’ll miss the screaming and the torture.
No more clay in the ruts, no more tape to the edges.
Just blood and heart attacks.
Oh, You’ll miss it.

And when you sleep at night you’ll ask the ceiling “why?”
“Why is it so cold?”
Because you opened up it’s god ****** jaws,
slit your wrists and fed the beast.
A meal on a plate, dessert in it’s hands.

Torture that you call it, a blessing that we give.
Seasons kiss your skin, but pain will destroy it,
no mending for your sin.
No light will kiss you, no laughter or kin.
The Ice will take you in!
The Ice will take you in!
The ice will love you. The ice will bathe you in it’s grin.
You will miss us dear, oh how I promise.
Do take a walk in the forest. Let the wind sink in.
I will whisper I will scream.
You will shiver to my note.
The cold bites honey, wear your coat.
It's about depression.
Macy Opsima Nov 2014
you're strumming my heartstrings like how angels do with their harps & i bet that it did hurt when you fell from heaven but that doesn't hurt as much when i fell for you
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