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 Apr 2018 Aaron Bee
Dead Rose One
3:15am

<•>

unlike a first kiss, a first love,
the premiere awkward first coupling,
which when one recalls it
appears with ever increasing fuzziness (intentionally?)
or not at all, so much so that making it up based on
fleeting hazed glimpses of unmemorized dreams
just to have an “official entry in the cloudy memory,”
is a semi-necessity for regaling...nobody

but you never forget your virginal
projectile vomiting

there is even an emoji for it,
a hurling curling celebration

like a computer reset,
a confessional admission
that includes your own original
original sin,
a purging so complete,
it is a rebirthing of sorts,
a human do over

(c’mon c’mon get on with this, this
no kiss, a most undeserving bizzaring poem title choice)


each and every time I draw forth
the words on the in sides of me
they are ejected with force comparable,
my body rejecting l'étranger,
who’s now escaping

no first kiss, miss, no laughing at one’s first tumbling fumbling,
there is no smiling recollections sweet,
a cover up for your exciting intimation initiations faint revisions

but your first writing!

given up and out in a ejection burst,
a needle in the arm, gunshot
fluids *******, spit out,
without malice aforethought,
and this your last writing

this one, yes, this one.
comes quick, rough and inelegant,
expulsion combustion leaving you
panting on the cold floor you emptied
but
sorta of whole, a clean sheet, so to speak,
swearing you’ll never do this again,
must be an easier way,
to just slow secrete it holy,
or give up the drug of writing
raven forevermore nevermore

nope-u-dope

the vision of a long ago rabbi,
being burned to death slowly
by the Romans, wrapped in
dampened torah scripture scrolls
to lengthen the burnished burning,
a vision burned into a
very youthful boy’s consciousness,
the holy black ink hand drawn letters flowing
from martyr’s mouth, flying heavenward
this fresh within,
a childhood image primal mind,
is ways present
as each letter typed, formulating mathematically,
based on an artificial intelligence theorem,
that updates itself with every missive,
until the new poem is
projectile released in
a single ***** bursting,
purging of the urging

and guess what,

it just happened again

4/27/18

~for Sky, whose poems endearing found me, in her brazen ways,
which is what poets do~
https://hellopoetry.com/sheepskyny/
When Rabbi Hananiah ben Tradyon was caught teaching Torah in public, the Romans decided to make an example of him. Accordingly, Rabbi Hananiah was wrapped in a Torah scroll, which was then set afire. As if this torture were not sufficient, strips of water-soaked wool were placed on his body to prolong his agony. While his distraught students looked on helplessly, Rabbi Hananiah inspired them with his famous utterance, "The parchment is burning but the letters are flying off," meaning that enemies can crush the Jewish body but not the spirit
 Mar 2018 Aaron Bee
daryll smith
Freedom


I can hear the voices, To me they sing.
I can see the door I also feel the wind.
I look beyond the window ,from which were caged in.
I can feel the people in all there thoughts that spare
A hopeless abis. I call but no one answers this.
I scream I shout but only because I scared
I'm free I'm out I prey I never go back there.

Written by DSmith
 Mar 2017 Aaron Bee
Regan Collins
Heavy breath on empty air,
Words for no one to hear:
I remain delirious by my own lunacy.
How long will I continue on,
Swallowing my solitude,
Pushing it down,
As if it will keep me alive?
I am surrounded by
Too many words,
But too little company.
Alone in the car,
Alone in my room,
I feel the desire to regurgitate
My thoughts.
I speak, and the ghosts in the corner
Nod in agreement.
They understand, don’t they?
But I blink,
And my cheeks turn crimson,
For they have disappeared.
Were they even there at all?
 Jan 2017 Aaron Bee
spysgrandson
where will they take me
this thick, whirling cloud
of birds?

I lower my shotgun;
my targets were to be
a skein of geese

(corpulent, impertinent
avian freaks I have seen
peck children's shins)

these smaller birds
perform a choreography electric,
black against blue

now I know the meandering
meaning of mesmerize--my eyes
glued to the skies

more agape than the hunter
in me--wishing to watch this wave
undulate an eternity

but alas, the flock turns
into a naked sun; I am forced
to shield my eyes

my hand blocks the blare
of light, with it, the whipping tail of
their liquid flight

when I lower it, they are
but a haze near the horizon, performing
magic for another audience
 Jan 2017 Aaron Bee
spysgrandson
two of them came in from the night
into the neon light of a 7-11, where they found her
behind the counter, guarding  
the register's cash

with her life
which they took, because, after her trembling hand
handed them $138, one of them, "just freaked"
when he saw her face

and then shot her, in her throat,
and again between two holy *******,
after she landed on the linoleum floor,
12 feet 3 inches from the door

through which they returned to the night,
though only long enough to find the Whataburger
exactly one mad mile away, where they stopped
because the shooter was hungry

he ordered a number one, with cheese
but his accomplice had no appetite--he asked
for coffee, black, and used coins (not stolen)
he had to pay

when they confessed to the killing
even the accomplice found it chilling, the shooter
could eat red flesh and fresh hot fries, while scalding coffee
was all his partner could abide
Based on a true story from 1990. The tale was told to me, after their conviction and sentencing, by a student I counseled. He informed me the killer confessed this to him the night of the event. The victim was a mother in her thirties with whom my wife had attended high school.
 Jan 2017 Aaron Bee
Larry Potter
Your face is oblique
But it's quite unique
Don't mind the critique.

Apply a pound of cosmetics
Transform your looks of a derelict
Into an Anna Kendrick.

Here, take this bouquet
Use a striking sobriquet
And own the soiree.

Sting like a bee
With your Master's degree
In bottomless energy.

Crack jokes like a nut
Leave them hanging like, "What?"
Blend your humor and your guts.

End the night like milk
Drag your dress of fake silk
Call a taxi driver of your ilk.

Head home like a killer
Laugh proud at the mirror
Because tonight, you're the winner.
 Jan 2017 Aaron Bee
RoseMarie
I'm not her
and you're not him
and this isn't us

but they're not here.

So here we are.

This isn't love,
just sadness
wrapped in an emperor's cape
of disillusionment

I just want to remember
what it's like
to forget everything
with someone who won't forget
to remember me

So I lay with  you
because I'm too weak
to stand up
for what I want.

The yellow brick road
is closed for repairs

So here we are.
for the lonely
 Jan 2017 Aaron Bee
mars
This is what heartbreak looks like.

It is the soliloquies you wrote to him at midnight while crying

It is the formality a smile and the absence of warmth

It is the nausea and the ***** because this mornings breakfast just didn't have the heart to stay with you

He didn't either

This is what heartbreak sounds like.

Silence
Breaking
Static

This is what heartbreak feels like.

The burn of your concerned friends eyes into your back

The burn of the shame tinging your cheeks red

This is what heartbreak is.

You
Me
But not us

Never us
#1 of a set I'm writing
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