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 May 2018 Triste
Jack
“please be naked”

she stands in her doorway wearing just a gown,
I walk in the house, dumbstruck by beauty,
up in her room undoing the bow, the shield simply slides down
caressing her curves, stroking down to the floor,
intertwined bodies craving the touch of the other,
joined as one in the gentle acts of love and lust,
romanticised ideals of perfection and soft rhythm,
delicate groans as two become one,
the broken poet, for the moment, is gone,
my drug addiction of you, just wanting more,
As my heart bleeds, love begins to pour.

“please be naked”.
this poem is influenced by The 1975 instrumental song "please be naked". i regularly think of this song as romanticising the act of *** and the trust required with it rather than what most songs make it today. despite having no lyrics the song speaks volumes to me and id definitely recommend it to anyone. stay safe and live well. JY x
 May 2018 Triste
Traveler
LIVE A LIE
 May 2018 Triste
Traveler
If you could feel
Certain thing I've done
The rush in my desires...
I assure you most
Would cut and run
From the lake
That burns like fire

Dancing to a primal beat
Where life is trampled
Under feet
To feed the furnace
Of evermore
No time for love
Or even war

If you could see
Through shell shocked eyes
You'd know just why
I live a lie
...
Traveler Tim
 May 2018 Triste
Busbar Dancer
People only ever want to ask me about
the poetry -
those verses about
busted up noses in outer space;
about the pros working
way down passed
the corner of Broad and Main;
about fistfights and hard, hard drinking.
But I built a flowerbed this weekend...
Twenty two tastefully irregular stone blocks
in a crescent moon shape,
filled with the blackest of soils.
The sweat of toil.
The digging.
The planting.
Exotic grasses. Asian maybe?
Purple and yellow flowers.
Zinnias or some **** thing.
All covered in a thick blanket of brown mulch.
It's a fine thing to have dirt on your hands
instead of blood.
No one ever asks me about flowerbeds.
Bamboo groves sing the symphony of winds
in their crackling I hear my heart
on the red lone summer road.

The village woman passes with her cow
she has no time for poetry
yet her radiance fills me to beg life
more..

O Death be a while away
I've taken root on this land.
On the village road, May 11 2018 2 pm
 May 2018 Triste
Anthony Emmi
More.
 May 2018 Triste
Anthony Emmi
As I wipe tears from my eyes.
I suddenly realize.
Life is full of lies.
With zero compromise.

Do all the good you wish.
You will still feed from the dish.
You will never catch enough fish.
You will still have that one wish.

You will always want more.
Always look behind that door.
Always pacing the same floor.
Always screaming from the core.

Always punching that clock.
Never leaving the dock.
Following the same flock.
Hiding behind the same rock.


A.Emmi 05/11/18
 May 2018 Triste
Valerie Perez
Seeking meaningful friendships
Was all I was looking for
Meeting new people
Not expecting anything more

I am in a good place
feeling content on my own
putting myself first
I feel so much I’ve grown

Yet unexpectedly
you caught my eye
I tried looking the other way
that was a mission to try

So many thoughts
as my mind wanders on
people come and go
before you know it they’re gone

you ventured the world
trying to find your place
building homes in others hearts
going at your own pace

you’re in a great place you say
you feel right at home
but are these feelings temporary I ask myself from you being alone?

“It could be a phase” Are my thoughts
given the patterns that I see
perhaps another venture
testing the waters with me

I have no void to fill
needing no one by my side
and im a pretty open book
not very much to hide

If you still decide
That you want to come my way
Be honest and kind is all I ask
Whether or not you stay

Unbearable pain
Something I’ve experienced before
Time and earning trust
Are the keys to these doors
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