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Esme Calder Sep 10
Mother, I spread my arms for you
as the nails beat into the flesh of my wrists
and the wood stings the skin of my back
I look up at the skies and pray that it rains
so that your garden will grow at last
and bear fruit that you'll want to share with me
but I'll be gone far too fast
Father, I raise my eyes for you
so that I'll see if there's tears when you cry
The phone will be answered for all but for me
and my sisters and my brothers will be free
No more time at the window, because we knew what to expect
no more times calling your name when locked out of the nest
So wear a cross or a ring maybe my name to mark
do not forget I was here
Sisters, I'll raise my chest for you
as I breathe in and out for as long as I can
until it becomes heavy with a weight I cannot bear
and my spirit shoots up into dusk
You held my hands as I first took steps
but clawed at my scars when we were on other ends of the battlefield
we were what we were raised to be,
and I love you forever til my rest
Brothers, I'll hold my face to yours
as my blood starts to run thin
Nose to nose you'll see we aren't that different
as you once thought
Fingers crossed that you'll reach the steps
you've prayed to reach a thousand times
and I hope that my blood will hit the earth
so that the sacrifice will be mine
Friends, wherever you were when the time had come
I will always hold my peace
for you were my stable when it thundered
and my flower for deaths the reaper will keep
In a circle we will rise, in a cycle we'll never leave
I hope that I'll meet you in my next life
otherwise I'll forever be near, hold your peace
My tears that I cry are for the gods that held me
and I not knowing their presence held fast
For regret that I will not stay too long
but relief as freedom will last
My heart will beat just one more time
for the people of this world
I hope that you will not cross the line
when the war goes on still
I'll give up all my lives if it means that you all will be safe
underneath the willow tree
we were all birthed under that place,
for our will to choose will be always free
Karma Oct 2024
The goat, it ran
With all its might
To escape bearing the blame.

The goat, it ran
Far out of sight
Until it bore great pain.

The goat had thought
It escaped flood
With the cover of night’s veil,
But then, the goat had realized
Blood
Was dripping from his tail.
Fiona Sep 2024
He was a soul
crafted by Jupiter:
limitless,
wild,
and always  
searching.

I am a soul
crafted by Mars:
driven,
unforgiving,
and unyielding.

When you shunned him
for discovering
our existence
our meaning
our joys
our sorrows,
I watched
for years
and years,
a fire inside
my blazing chest.

Now, I hold the scythe
in my hand,
untouched by the flames.
I hold your fate in my hands
and watch the flames
consume you
as you await your retribution.
A Simillacrum Aug 2019
ever been a ***** or a ******?
i have. and other names
mostly given.

ever been a scapegoat?
i have. been a toy
to the hatfields and the mccoys.

any ink of brain leakage
taken to the sawbone
stitches over stitches
on my lips sewn by my own hands
the sands of time have passed, slow
as they can fall --

blood from rips goes on the walls
smear memories on the old ****
to make a little sense of the prison
in which i was living

make a little bit of sense of my enemies
apparently, i choose to ride the prisms
of a prison to the coffin, as i'm better use dead
but what kind of exit is a bullet to the head?

tell you, it's a mess, what it is
Mystic Ink Plus Jun 2019
कागले छेरेको विउबाट
उम्रिएको रुख हो त्यो

अमिलो फल फल्ने
शैली : अवलोकन
विषय: विवाद
A rhetorical question finds me ask
king (to no one in particular) why I bask
with recollection the names of blank
exclamatory staid grade school crank

key teachers approximately
     42,0480,000 breaths aye drank
fifty years ago (most whose names frank
lee listed below),

     when the need to access
and retrieve
     immediate necessary information
     analogously interleaved

     among coaxial bracts
during examinations relegated
     as hopelessly lost
     into interstitial invisible cranial cracks

irretrievably buried
     during examinations, which age
(feels like a million years ago)
     often found me seized and caged
with sudden inability to remember

     any vital answers as gauged
evidenced by nothing writ
ten on paper (even including my name),
     thus loosely similar as aye sit
to compose poetry,
     and/or prose tempted to quit

asper defeated by resignation,
     and sinking sensation in the pit
of my stomach (more so regarding orbit
ting like an unsound garden  

     black hole son around cold (mit
ten necessary) awful days grudgingly
     handing over like a lit
till insignificant being,
     a test paper devoid of academic grit

analogously surrendering
     (while feeling fit
tubby tied, sense internally emit
ting abnegation sans chafing at the bit,

yet no sooner did buzzer indicated test
time over, then (of course),
     an instantaneous pest
that blocked chunk dramatically
     flowered gloriously invoking nest

head treasured mother lode
     of learned information invest
ment accounting for principle ball lanced
     formerly figuratively barricaded facts
     suddenly at my behest

ironically retaining to this day
dogged details amazingly,
     now gracing lix spittle fist size gray
dictating academic failure

     forcing laying down pen hay
for ma forgotten requisite thoughts may
king skepticism about self thrive, ray
zing mailer demons impossible to slay,

when into scaly claws, sans first
to sixth grade Precambrian relic
(Missus Batson, Missus Rittenhouse,
Missus Wells, Mister Stout, Missus Shaner,
or Miss Rinderle).

Invariably the majority
     of elementary grades didst accord
accredited ancient authenticated creatures bored
(with exception of sixth)

     freely exercised diabolical chord
churlish ******* animalistic
     zealous yakking, wickedly,
     aye (a basket case) deplored

unprintable (epithets) this then
     (unprincipled urchin) puny pupil felt lord
did over whacked, sans receiving end,
     viz fiendishly gruesome
     hellish instructions mean teacher scored.

Assignments buttressed with ultimatums
harkening back to Jurassic period earlier
in the dawning primate consciousness.

Lesson material kindled justifiable license
in league garnered insignia heft brought pupils
to heal predicated, via warped weft woven
wonderfully wrought writs welcomed whips
with warranty whenever recalcitrant ruffian
refused respecting reptilian rubric representative
saber rattling, where...

(The Idler Wheel Is Wiser Than the Driver
of the ***** and Whipping Cords Will
Serve You More Than Ropes Will Ever Do),
which loosely rendered regularly warbled

wishy washy verse curmudgeons freedom
granted to interpret as one decrepit, hawkish
insignia certified one beaming Eve and/or
stud deed brute soffit.

Education often relied on the weekly reader,
and letters to or from Aunt Emma to this Jack,
oh napeswho never wrote back
sheesh, alas and alack.

Nefarious mean linkedin kickstarter jawboning
torturous treatment tolerated, asper imps
of pervert, mutant Ninja Turtles duty bound
antsy youthful yokel yodelers weathering ululating
sing-song quintessential precepts.

adieu:
math a hew
scott harris a gentile Jew
all ways felt like new
kid on the block isolated

     in his hermetically sealed queue
pay perm ash shay watched per view
whew
at last in conk clew shun to you
from one primate within the human zoo.
Mystic Ink Plus Mar 2018
She died drowning
Just to blame the sea

Here, I’m the witness.
Genra: Dark Fiction
Mystic Ink Plus Feb 2018
I tried to be,
“AND”,
What connects.

She choose to be
“BUT”,
What clauses.

Then,
Nothing mattered.

In unison
We pointed destiny,
A Scapegoat.
Genre: Love
Theme: Farewell to Feburary Air
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