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Alan S Bailey Mar 2015
I am the lamp, I am this lighting, using up electricity
I am the wall, I am this part of your expensive home
I am the car, I ride too and from, to work and fun
I am the computer, I addict you and take up your time
I am the heater, I warm you and keep you from sickness
I am the stove, I cook your food and boil your water
I am the fridge, I protect your food and liquids from spoiling
INSTANTLY

And you are my slave, you will do what I say in return,
Anything and everything, now that you have these things,
You can never be alone, never have a day off, never be free,
Never have enough time to rest or stay at home with family,
*EVER AGAIN.
Jayd Green Mar 2015
i want to peel the petals
of your skin
show me what you're made of
are there flowers in heaven?
you bloom with the precision
of an all-bared soul
let me be your fool
show me what you're made of
under the light of dusk
show me that grim smile
let me press your lips apart
with mine
touch your teeth
against mine
let me crush your breath
in the grip of my whole,
bare fool
O

you are a beauty
darling
show me what you're made of
show me your rose-petal heart
ink Mar 2015
birds migrate
they fly from one place to another
but always come back
to the original

during that time
you and i met
so lets migrate
like the birds
to the land of joy

birds migrate
they fly from the new place to the old
rest in their true homes
while you and i slept
birb baby = bae
My morals are a patchwork
Stitched together from various other minds
A well worn quilt I wrap myself in for security
For blameless justification of a deformed belief system
Twisted and gnarled with an arthritis of the spirit
A hollow vessel made into a crock ***
Full of someone else's *******
Stirred by resentment
Stewed in fear and
Served with anger
To mask my ignorance and indifference
I have a reputation for trivialities
Snippets of soundbites
Subliminally soldered
Onto my sub-conscious
Where they acquire the character
Of authoritative wisdom
More pious than a prophet!
Holier than an ancient sage!
I am a 21st century shaman
A guru grifter
Embryonic episodes
Aborted for mass consumption
Over cocktails and hor dourves
Jayd Green Mar 2015
don't you dare sneer
and walk away from me
as if we meant nothing
as if i were nothing
to you

you were a planet
to me
now you are dust

how dare you call my poetry dust
how dare you brush away my love
like dust
Jayd Green Mar 2015
i missed that
tiny white pill
it stops
me from chattering.
i tremble without it
buzzing.

you might
perceive me
as still
but i am erratic.
shivering.
tiny white pill
stopping the

wide eyed
teary
expression.

it keeps me
kissing you
it keeps me
sane.
it lets me dance

but you
make me sing.

are you
a tiny
white pill?
First,
You teach me to think
With my own brains
Feel out my way
With my own feet
Treat me the same
As the boys


Second,
You put me in a school
Where they teach me to read
- oh, what a world!
They teach me to look
At international
Literature
- Marge Piercy,
Maya Angelou
And the like

Next,
You show me the crimson
Powder meant for foreheads
A deeper red for blood
Spilt on beds.
A life of compromise
And adjustment


Ripping out my ideas
And opinions
Telling me they're worthless
A baby, a house,
A life of adjustment
Is all this was meant for.


Tearing my beliefs
In an equal world
An equal society
Where society rises
To meet human morality


Is this what you taught me to read for?
Sorry sirs, ladies.
I tip my hat and bow.
Sorry to disappoint.
I was meant for an equal position
And I'll take it
- by force or mutual
compromise.
All 'the Man' has to do
is get the ball rolling:
we'll handle the rest.

That's the grotesque beauty of it.
That's why we're called a System.
Enough of this "they, their/we, our" ****.
Have the ***** to face the truth:
We're all in this together.
Jayd Green Mar 2015
you are a collection of my favourite senses.

you are the smell of smoke
of a fire that’s just burnt out
the drifting
curling grey
the ash
glowing still

you are the too-bright sun in my eyes
blinding
disorienting
and yet still beautiful and necessary
the pagan in me
worshipping your descent to earth
like an angel
who simply wanted to greet me

you are the feel of a fur coat around my neck
soft and warm
comforting, like a mother’s touch
but also a thrill, unsettling
the feeling of death kissing my throat

you have the taste of aphrodisiacs
chocolate, wine and
avocado
the juices of our chemistry
dripping from the sides
of my mouth
your smile wide
at the open euphemism

you are a collection of my favourite senses
and when i kiss you i am

senseless
Shirley Mar 2015
Art
Weak static creates an uncomfortable tautness in the air.
A sound emitted from the screen is heavy, weighing.
Muted light grips to ions which imperceptibly moss over the dusty glass monitor.  
A world within a dish.  
Slapdash pixilation.
Fragments—just fractions, part in snaps.
No image takes form in the storm of digitalized points, indistinctive refrain is absently composed.
The apartment, thick with a cloudy green hue.
Stripped, pink shoulders, a flush which spreads in a subtle frenzy—
Bleeds across an exposed chest.  
Vulnerable core.  
Noticeably contracting, beating the high concentration of life from one source
Into branched capillaries.
Into plush, coy lips—
Hush.
Sinews tear, a dark liquid pools, liberated from perforations.  
Flowing from the source and staining porcelain teeth.
Indulgence.
The innate capability to devour proves true outside feasting.  
Femininity of unbridled ******* and echoing amusement,
Eternalized.
Cataplexies pressed and dried upon blank, white pages which prove difficult to turn—
only facilitated by the hand of time.
A vast expanse of briny depths outstretches further than what’s perceivable.
Waves rock a feeble coo which escapes from child’s lips at the spectacle of a mother.
*Cri de Coeur
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