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We all have the right to write.
We aren't obliged to write right.

You have the right to flaunt your ugly, hatefilled heart,
You have the right to sneer, and leer.

Hide behind those concepts and techniques.
If it makes a few people laugh, who cares about the ones that cry?
They don't get it, they don't get you,
You're too clever for them.

You have the right, you have the right,
I agree, we are all free,
Some will laugh, some will cry,
Some stay silent, sitting by.

I'll admit that you have wit,
You're still a total, utter ***.
Taru Marcellus Jun 2014
moist moist  moist  moist MoiSt mOisT moIsT MOIST
now stop reading it, say it
                                                           moist
it's a weird word
------------------------------------------------------------­-----------------------------------

a storm is coming
  and I can smell it, feel it
     MOIST
on my skin- slick
it wisps into my mouth
  dirt patches aren't meant to be stoic

the storm approaches from the north, northwest
I am headed that way- north, northwest- approaching it
we have not yet converged but I can feel it
    moist
it tastes of dry dirt
not local
       nomadic

the clouds are foreshadowing --- foreboding
  parting only to show more grey
we have yet to converge but I can feel it
the grey
           the parting
                          the moistness
I am not yet there but I can feel it
  wisping through me
     I am not meant to be stoic
       nomadic

the first d
                r
              o
                 p

                     refreshing
I can feel it. really feel it.
moist on my skin. weird.
the clouds are parting
lightening [effect]       thunder [effect]       convergence [effect]
I am the storm; its core
  moist
            grey
                    parting
       ­                          wisping
can you feel me
                            approaching...
Taru Marcellus May 2014
Do not fret for the future

you'll never get any further into it

          than right now

                                             or now

                              or now
Wisdom from a local at the neighborhood craft beer store... I take no ownership, these are words I heard.
Taru Marcellus May 2014
how far does your empathy stretch
does it do calisthenics every morning
before humoring the sun
can it bend the distance of light
or traverse the waves that crash into your ear

how far does your empathy stretch
has it learned to overcome muscle memory
does it still read newspapers daily
or is it colorblind to the flavors of this world

Isla Vista Killing Spree Claims 7 Lives, Including Suspect

4 People Killed in Taiwan Subway Stabbing Spree

32 Children Dead in Columbia Bus Fire Inferno

Nigeria's Boko Haram kills 28 in three village attacks

Afghanistan landslide: One of the country's biggest natural disasters kills up to 2,700

3 dead in shooting at Belgian Jewish museum


did you flinch? did you feel anything?
anything besides the mechanical itch of a
number
maybe you should stand up
maybe you should shake it out
how far does your empathy stretch now?
does it bend towards justice?
*news headings all spanning the past month
Taru Marcellus May 2014
we are static on these channels
rushing to be heard
whipping through empty space like a fast current
         where are we flowing?
just trying to stay current
         what are we showing?
currently nothing
                         we are static
can you hear our unintelligible pleas
      please...
   listen
can you hear us
      rushing
we just want to be something
rushing
   can you hear us

listen
         listen
    listen to the static
we are more than just noise
hear us
                           please
we are changing
  May 2014 Taru Marcellus
Tom Leveille
kissing you was like swerving into oncoming traffic

i can never tell if i am more haunted by empty picture frames or the ashes of their contents

you taught me that the saying "pick your battles" meant not answering when love was at the door

sometimes when i drink whiskey i swear i can hear your voice in the creases of my bedsheets & i sleep on the floor

i still catch myself running my hands over things you touched the most, looking for the echoes of your fingertips

i practice things i'll never say to you

i remember the day you told me you didn't like poetry, how "everything's already been said" & how "nothing meaningful can be captured without being cliche" you know, i don't miss you like the sun and moon, i do not miss you like tide bent waves crashing on the shoreline, i miss you like a chernobyl  swingset misses children

rumor has it that drowning is a lot like coming home, that drinking bleach can **** the butterflies in your stomach

for your love of cigarettes, i would have been an ashtray

this halloween i want to dress up as the you when you loved yourself and show up on your doorstep

i never understood what you meant when you said i was an instrument, back when you would cup your hands around my chest and breathe through the holes in my heart, i still wonder if the sounds i made remind you of wind chimes

i never paid much attention to abandoned buildings until i became one

in my dreams all the flowers smell like your perfume

i am the only person who has ever wished for the same snowflake to fall twice

if i could go back, and rewrite the definition of audacity, it would be how when we lost the bet of love, you said "we never shook on it"

i love you, if the feeling is not mutual, please pretend this was a poem

the only apology i want from you, is to have you repeat the names of children we will never have in your parents living room until they *****

we are the same person if you find yourself up at 4am dry heaving promises, or if you are kept awake by the laughter of those who've abandoned you

nobody ever told you that goodbyes taste like the back of stamps

sometimes i'm convinced that the only reason we hug, is so you can check my back for exit wounds
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