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Jennifer Jimenez Nov 2014
So many times time will fly. No single glance at what was or what is. Looking thru an album, I don't recall the memories. I feel like I've been living with a stranger. Sharing my body, sharing my soul. Pay attention...
wes parham Nov 2014
I said, "God, I love you".
She smiled and said I'd do in a pinch.

I said, "but I need you to do something for me..."
She looked into my eyes and said, "What's that"?

I said, "I need you to tell me something".
She said, "All right.  What's that?"

I said, "repeat after me"
I said, " 'wes...' "

She stared back into my eyes and said, "wes..."
She laughed a little chuckle in her throat.

I said, "no, this is serious..."
I looked into her eyes.
I prompted her:  " 'wes...' "

She smiled, saying "wes..."
I said, " 'stop ******' around' "

She said, "stop ******' around"
she laughed again, adding, "wes".

I smiled and said, "no, try it seriously  now"
She said, "wes.  seriously.  stop ******* around..."

She laughed.
I said, "want to go back to bed and fool around?"
She laughed.
I laughed.
We went back to bed.
Read here by the author:
https://soundcloud.com/warmphase/back-to-bed
Just a vignette I wanted to expand.  An almost confusing exchange, shifting from the strict to the frivolous.
wes parham Oct 2014
Pour one under the table for those who walk outside.  In memory of Spalding Gray, for what he meant to me...
    Thanks, “Spuddy”, for sharing your inner life.   Thanks for having the courage to bring so many troubles into the light.  You laughed at your troubles and allowed us a way to laugh at our own.  You put a voice to carrying an unbearable shyness or an excess of fear along with us as we go through life.  You strived to care when caring was out of fashion and in short supply.  Thanks for reminding us that life is the journey, and not only the destination.  You wrote a book.  You played a minor role in a feature film.  Those were some of your destinations.  When you shared your journey, you did it with humor, humility, and with love.  Thanks for reminding me that storytelling is all around us.  Thanks for reminding me that it need not be complex.  You were merely observant during your journey,  and you shared it through the lens of your own perception.
    I learned this January that life became unbearable for you.  If only we, your audience, could have comforted you or somehow stemmed the river; the flood that carried you to leave so early.  I would like to believe that, once you died, you might be able to hear our collective voice.  I imagine that you are able to see the people affected by your work, some inspired thus to create works of their own; tell their own awkward stories, sharing them as you shared yours.  I am far back in the line, and I eventually arrive at your table.  You flip a page in your spiral-bound notebook and take a sip of water before glancing up inquiringly.  I only have one thing to say, really.  “Thanks, Spalding.  Thanks for sharing”.
Written after I learned of Spalding Grey's suicide in 2004.   His performances, full of a bare, self-deprecating and personal mania, touched me as they made me laugh.  They said, "I feel this ridiculous *******, too".  They said, "we get by anyway, despite the confusion, the fear, or the pain".  They inspired me to share some of my own self in personal narrative or poetry.  He wasn't any idol to me, I just felt his passing strongly since his own work had inspired me, personally, to live just a little bit more.  Life's a collaboration.
Nickols Oct 2014
The party's over.
My makeup left fading, the remembrance of something beautiful.
My black dress is on the floor, replaced by your warm arms.
I shared a bed with you, a surface not made for two.
Snuggled under the same blanket.
A single pillow for our heads.
I felt your warmth through the night.
A strong presence at my back.
Your nose crowning into my hair.
We slept pressed together, our body twining with one another.
I slept with you last night.

The party may be over, but I'm still here with you in a bed not made for two.
jide oyediran Oct 2014
The mind the heart
War in despair
Voices humming
Loud voices
Confusion in the diaspora
Don't do it or else
Do it and so?
Whispers there and now
Up down up down
Mix of hot water and cold water
oceans can talk
Wild wind around the corners of mississipi
Alarm rings crick crick
Oops!it 10am in the morning
Inspiration from REV.TUNDE AFE
Thessa J Pickett Oct 2014
I wondered if I told her that I loved her would it save her life today
Amidst the face of her depression...
Did you know,  I've thought about texting you every moment that passed
I wanted to make this word her breathe of life
I wanted her touch
I wanted to make this vessel a reason to love again
Leaving everything and nothing
Love is about losing
Fainting
Faith and being weary
Dying, Hurting, Starving
the filling and emptying of Body and spirit
Like liquid is to air
Longing and yearning
I remember what your eyes do
I hear the pain
And feel the pleasure in a, solitary glance
This frequent change of tide
Hosting beauty and misery....
she is love
Gladys P Oct 2014
A time for sharing
Breast cancer month awareness
Go pink, and save lives
ryn Sep 2014
Poetry moves from within our souls,
It's emotions pouring out
Covering us in rhymes and flow,
Like rain from the clouds

Infinite letters, words and phrases
In various permutations we play
Collaboration between heart and mind
Breathed into these pieces that we lay


Touching lives with our written form
Healing with words, what's poetically true
Freedom of expression, thoughts and ideals
Crying out in ink, until our sadness is through

Similar in thoughts but meander through individual routes
We all sing the same but to different rhythm and tunes
Inscribe our innermost but to varying worthy causes
We all draw inspiration but from the same loyal moon


A different form of art, yet art none the same
It's in the eye of the beholder, so they say
Poetry is life drawn in pen, it's not an erasable game
It truly breathes life, looking forward to each new day

**We proudly fly our diverse flags
United under one banner
We revel in words of poetry
In the hopes they'd last forever
Deeply honoured by the fact that the amazing "The Girl Who Loved You" would even consider a collaboration with me! Such an experience! Thank you TGWLY for this opportunity! Awestruck!
Tryst Sep 2014
Poetic pain on paper, plain,
An ineffective preacher;

Poetic pain on paper plane,
An introspective teacher.
First published 13th Sept 2014, 13:20 AEST.
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