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a dark melody is sleeping in his stomach
sound of a star rolling over heaven
swarms of stones populate the earth
they float beneath mask man's shape

the horizon is swallowing his thoughts:
they slip into emotion, they burst into splinters
mask man's body is jailed inside an image
behind the bars of a prompt; he is scared

as animals are scared of men and fire
as rivers are killed by dirt and arrogance
as children are abused by adults and abomination
mask man, oh mask man: what can you do?
Today is a good day.
Mikey Kania May 21
a face of stone and bloodred eyes
he is not dumb, he is not wise
a vampire, dressed in black attire
ruler of the world, lobby boss, a rock

a fierce narcissist being hurt
even by your friendliest words
knife-like fingernails, teeth spiky
he slits you up, devours your heart

cannibal lecter style for real
he just does not know how to feel
psychopathic soul, a tall goon
ruling from a bone-made throne

you can not make a deal with him:
he's like a bank and always wins
your family is dead my friend
today is your turn: you will burn

barbeque-images, intestines
human-scented steak with bloodshakes
festival of gore, you creature
since you are the vampire's feature

humans come, humans go, you know?
a vampire does not bother
he will tear your body apart
to carve a poem into your flesh
Today is a gory day.
Fiona May 20
It was a quiet place
Inside of that red room
Until the wind from inside shook the walls
Collapsing them outward
As the walls fell around her
The wildflowers appeared.
Growing rapidly
The red walls were replaced by
Blue Purple Yellow faces with Green stems.
She climbed those green stems,
For a long time.
So long she reached the top,
Where the Blue Purple Yellow faces stared into the sun.
She lay a top those wildflowers.
Closing her eyes,
Suddenly surrounded by red.
Inspired by Wild Flower, Fiona re-imagines the poem, 2 of 2.
Fiona May 20
She walks a path with one eye open
She follows a path with one eye closed
Connecting the strings that float around
Like caterpillars
From trees
Squirming on their silk
She crawls underneath them
Un-wanting to not disturb the dance
Until she smells the wildflowers.
The other eye closes
Still crawling the path
The bugs have warn it down enough
To follow with her hands and nose.
When she felt the wildflowers on her face
She opened that eye
Excitedly she pealed open the other.
When she heard nothing
She was amazed
In the distance she could see waves crashing through the wildflowers
Once again her world was absent of light.
This time she held her breath.
She laid in those wildflowers
For a long time.
So long her fingers and toes sprouted roots pulling her deep inside the soil,
Grounding her.
Inspired by Wild Flower, this is Fiona's re-imagined version, 1 of 2.
Fiona May 20
It was a quite place
The wind spread through the wild flowers
Like a wave
She closed her eyes
She laid in those wild flowers
For a long time
So long her fingers and toes sprouted roots
Grounding her.
bcb May 12
today i feel quite alive
how exquisitely dear
that this ****** composition
and each soul in their position
ushers me to tears

today i feel quite alive
how transcendentally clear
that this world we inhabit
composes peace amongst rapids
and boy do i love being here

so to my people who love and to my people who see
know to endure and continue to be  

be well,
i simply felt alive today
Zeyu M May 9
They were once for the will to life
Bank robbers and doctors and artists
denizens in Beijing and Manhattan

They are now the staple of cowardice
farmers give theirs to dogs and cows
gamblers trade them for bats and dollars
apparatchiks in London and Brest

Those who paid too much or bought too few
those who decried them (for liberty and face!)
Suddenly converged

I, too, stare at my mask (can I judge
          that unfamiliar face mirrored?)
and the face it covers-- what's underneath?
My mask pondered-- but does not answer
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