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Carter Ginter Oct 2014
My stiff arms hit the metal of the door as I force it open, against
the chilled fist of wind, pounding hard upon the glass
windows and then equally upon my face and forearms. It had to be
below 50 degrees, but I had hoped that the cold could help me
feel again. Feel something. Unfortunately,
this ice only froze my fingers, leaving
my body as numb as my mind.

Later, as I rid my machine of the cloth concealment, protecting
the scars laced into my skin. The water boils as I
examine my life-lines, these battle scars, in the mirror and
can only cringe in thought of the disappointment drowning
the faces of those I care about most: their eyes
drooping down with the weight of eyebrows, creased
diagonally, half shock and the other half burning
discontentment. They purse their lips and stab my eyes
with their daggers, when I chuckle nervously.

I shake my head of these thoughts from my speculation and
step into the steam, hoping the heat could help me
feel again. However, the fire does not scorch my
body, nor incinerate the emptiness, it only slides
down the marble sculpture my body feels to be
(equivalent to the concrete barrier that builds behind my eyes)
Bryce Jul 2018
Amid the verbose magicians
Seeking kinships
And sailing deep into their arduous mists
Watching them peddle their afternoon
To a handful of smiling children holding their breath
Amazed in gentle body trick

The older men of age
Leaning deep into their creased chins
Stroking the grizzled fat
Blinding light of soul
Staring down the barrel of life
Striking the enemy one last time
And yet smiling
Met of match,
taking care of their kids.

Then there's the cold-clocked dudes
On the phone pushing buttons
In a button-up raglan
Lost indistinct
the promised land
The golden shores swept away by
inconvenient time
Left shopping in an auto mall
"Won't you look at the time?"
7.07 APR
Boy what a steal!
And Steve maddened and screamed
As the lines blurred instinctual between opposing teams
And the oven dinged a great alabaster slant
Leaning towards the new millenitants

Rise up!
***** the wheel
Turn the axel from pistons
To alkaline metal
And doubt with great monumental
That the machine borders all
And we cannot retreat

And while I sift bouyantly between the waves
Searching the puzzle piece within the molecules
Reconnecting with the things
And representing
dreams on a 66 hertz screen
I call rather failing
Towards a black rocked shore
Towards the sweet Dorigen
Of my dreams
Finding an integral of time
And space

And calculating the intangible *****
Of my desmise
With the imaginary constiutent
Of that lighted mind.
mariamme Jun 2018
though you are far from me
in distance & otherwise
i know the care i put into you
might be a balm to you,
not enough perhaps
& even unasked for.
but i pray that the love
i manifest in my every step
toward you across the barriers
will open your eyes to the mirror
sitting in your open hands,
so that you might see what i do;
gaze upon the face that i have loved,
the empathy in the eyes
and the kindness creased in a smile
that too often is swallowed
by despair and salty sadness-
something i too understand, yet
feel differently, in my own way.
you remember, you lifted me
out of the pool i tried to drown in,
my own eyes clouded &
i was choked by my own problems.
i hope that my care will cross
the barriers between us & you
will feel the love i have for you.
the black cloud is over our heads, my love, and i cannot dispel the tears. i can only wish i could be with you in your pain & promise you the world. i can only write poems out of helplessness & my own despair. i can only tell you i love you & see "read at 12:27 am" for two days until you come back to me. all for you, because i believe you would do the same for me.
Ashleigh Black Apr 2014
Well, it’s 3 in the morning
and you’re still standing
Beside that rain-covered window
And I don’t know why

I hope that you are
Just admiring the mosaic tones
The raindrops give as you try
To stare right through

But you know and I think so too
That this is all we have left
You and your window
And me here just watching

And still the rain pours
And the sheets stay creased
And it’s been awhile
Since I’ve noticed either one
logan wade Apr 13
i’m telling you:
i could ignite a fire
with this smile
light a glowing splint
with a dishonest grin.

don’t forget to wake me up.
click your tongue,
drive it forward
against sharp teeth.
pinch me, to separate idealism
from its own reluctance.
snap me out of this state
of crazed contentment
and troubled joy
before flames run wild
from my fingertips-
i don’t want you close
when that happens.

capture my expression from afar,
reciprocate the look i gave
when you found me,
and gave me one good reason to be.
fed me my last meal.

please, a favour -
sort the photos in some order,
staple the polaroids we took
of my wide eyes and raised brows
to a page,
off white and worn with age and time.
creased, and notes
of writing running in loops
kinked and curved
by nature’s influence,
and time.

i turned my wine back to water,
felt the air bubbles as i swallowed,
and i finally breathe again.
i counted back from ten,
and the sun spasmed.
time ran from midnight to noon.

when the lights are out,
we’ll call it a day
because you can’t fight demons
with a smile.

forget you even felt,
collect your darkest moments
in a puddle - hell, a pool -
then drown in its opportunity.

sever the link between your body and its shadow,
and never forget
where you found the light.
MJL Mar 11
Rows of starched green and yellow paisley feather stalks
Marching in ordered lines along the road to 57 Eldon Way
Hot dogs and char burgers charge the air with yesterday's homecoming
Buds of moxie memories tipping long ears to big blue
Listening to the chickadees vocal pecking at kernels from the past
Morsels fall to the dirt signal life again for those willing to root
Pulled magpies to lines spy intimate joy-scattered seed below
Promising fortunes creased by hourglasses settled sand
White washed porches with rose printed borders
Nestle a "his and her" swing vantage over familiar fields
Imagined better-time scenes from selfie soaked movies
More real than all the forgotten stones ever stepped upon
Sweet tea sugar fills tall glasses of yarn spun dreams
Glory red and navy rippling a windy beat
To the clang of their steal pole clasp
Swing with them and recall a time of slower horizons
Of richer baskets
Of brighter springs
Of longer summers
Take a dip in the swimming hole
Naked, together, and happy

© 2019 MJL
Eldon is the Iowa town brought to life in Grant Wood's American Gothic painting. 57 is my favorite ketchup and everything best about being human... The poem reflects a memory of returning to a simpler time with improved perspective, remembering what we want. Magpies symbolize good luck, optimism and also deception.
Diya soni Dec 2018
Last eve of the year
Terribly cold
Dim delight twilight
At the midnight
Waters are frozen
Surroundings were freezed
Expect moving snowflakes
Still waters shimmers
As the twilight interupts
Winds are whistling
With dreary cold
Pulled my feet lil closer
Rubbing my hands
Seated on the bench
Waiting in the dark
Dry leaves cracked by
Warm blanket spilled on my shoulder
Felt warmth and satisfied
Turned my face
There she is with
Insane smile..
Snowhite flawless face
Hair was Grimy
Had a pointed nose
Voice was raspy
With gapped teeth
Eyes were blazing
With cigar
On smooth crimson lips
Wearing big henin hat
And fur creased long black coat
Azure gum boots on feet
Nails were cleaned
Pointed as pins
"Nice to meet you
Dont fear
Im here
My dear,..
I put on staring continously
Hand in hand
Through the laughing icy Meadows
Pulled my hand to come with her
On the Long brown broom
Seated me behind her back
Broom was quite comfortable
Im stucked
With goosebumps
Head was twining
She ticked the thumb
And *******..
Commaned "tikk..tik.tik"
Broom takes off
Of azure sky
Smiling mid clouds
Royale sky
Illuminates the glorious path
World lookin as tiny as ant
Like it was different joy
Between sky and ground..
Tears fled away
"Let this be your happiness swthrt"she said
World is empty
Lil fairies
flying along us
Seems like celebrating me
My mind changed
Enjoying ride
And threw the blanket of fear
With the path of believe
Which was built
Few minutes ago
Hold her tightly
Huge smile interrupts my face
Weather is glittering
With white beauty pearls
Falling from the skies
On the top of the world
From the throne of clouds
Realized the beauty of task master
Small white duckies
Cooing in the shades
Babies are trying
To catch our speed
And fly along us
With the flow of breeze
By the wings whirling
I thought ,... but where we are off to ?
"Dear we are on the way to the paradise "
"May be all the evils
Of the earth were caged there "
I think....
Cant wait to see the paradise..
Reached at the
Grand Entrance of the paradise
Huge wooden door
Lamps and lanterns on both the sides
Small white cat with murled
Long whiskers and lil paws
Holding big jaw
Arrived along with the angels
As they are waiting to welcome me
Stepped out my right leg first
On the soft floor
Witch get off my shoes
An sparkling angel
With shimmering wings
Stand behind me
Washed my feet
As it was their tradition
Such warmed welcome
I've never suffered
White Unicorns were
Used to pick me up
We are off to the castle..
I stare out the cherry blossoms
Pink flowers glow softly
The sweet smell of cherry
Blossom fills the air
And for the beauty
I cry a tear..
Suddenly my alarm buzzed.. awww f*
Wait i a actually
Forget to ask ... the witch her name ?
Hope soon i met her again ..
Till then i put on my real life..
SilentAce Mar 2015
"What a beautiful ring"
isn't it though
The two kind looking young men smile at her. Genuine.
In their mid twenties she assumes.
"Thank you."
she replies. Twisting the ring absentmindedly
as though she suddenly remembered its presence.

"Who is the lucky man?"
A slow smile spreads across her face
a glimmer in her eyes
But they'll mistake it as a look of love.
They always do.
"No man."

The gold band sits slightly too large on her slender finger.
She can taste the curiosity in their voice now.
She loves it.
"No, I prefer a more masculine touch."
"So you are not engaged then?"
They ****, eyebrows creased now.
"No. I am not."
She bats her eyes with a smile revealing nothing,
"Promise ring?"
Their eyes burn into hers.
She smirks.
"No. It's a family Heirloom."

"Then why wear it on the ring finger?"
She twists it harder, the sapphire catching light in a halo of crystals.
"General preference, and to keep away unwanted attention."
She lies coolly.  
They laugh lightly, clearly satisfied with her answer and leave.

Truth is she keeps it there as a reminder,
of the family she left behind.
a life of servitude overturned.

She turns back to the bar
"A drink from the man across the room."
She thanks the bartender but ignores the glass
little do they know she is under aged
too mature for her age
a ripe sixteen.

She runs her hand through her hair then turns
She meets the eyes of her pursuer and smiles.
She glows in the neon light.
as does the ring.
His eyes tense but grins and raises his glass in response.
He notices the ring but is evidently not thwarted.
She raises an eyebrow approvingly and smirks.

This is why she wears the ring.
Because try as she might she still undoubtedly hates men.
Their love is unbearable.
And her family is to blame.

She was taught that *** was not meant for women
that no man would wed her.
Lust was a sin
she knows that.

She twists the ring sharply
because despite her hatred, she doesn't want to hurt them,
The ring repels the decent ones and attracts the *******.

She smiles back at the man who could care less about her occupation
or her for that matter.  
He doesn't ask about the ring,
Doesn't even consider her age.
He's perfect.

Their love is unbearable.
but the lust, she can handle that.
She gets satisfaction when she sees the ring, that beautiful sapphire,
on the same hand that has yet to undo a man’s belt.

She wears it, so that no ring will replace it.
Some women wear their hearts on their sleeves.
instead she wears her reminder as to why she never will.
like a big ******* to her past really.
how poetic..

"What's your name?"
His eyes bore into hers.
She knows she can say any name in the world and it won't make a difference.
and with her truth comes bravery.
"But you can call me Sami."
She takes his glass and sets it to the side.
He looks at her puzzled but amused
She offers no explanation and takes his hand.

Next thing she knows he is pulling her to him
She needed the buzz.
She feels his lips on her neck and knows
This is fine
Her breath hitches.
His lips find hers with an untold urgency.
Her hands shake
and she knows
This is her only solace.
A memoir of the more rowdier nights of my unfortunate youth.
The ring is still worn shamelessly.
Elena Feb 11
I told the world to smile,
and her corners barely creased
She said to get her good side,
and then she turned her back to me.
The melting sun was crying
And rolling tears into the sea
The shadow of her body
The whales eerie harmony.
Gary Brocks Aug 2018
We spread our blanket on uneven
ground, bodies embracing in descent,        
                       They lay on the boxcar floor,
                        fingers twisted, clutching slats.
transfixed by the spell of evening,
limbs entwined, interlaced,
                        Barbed wire pressed punctured palms
                        faces creased as old photographs.
We stretched in dawn’s light,
poured coffee out of cups,
and left as it merged with the dust.
                         bones upheave turf and loam
                         fingers grasping, sheathed in soil.

Copyright © 2003 Gary Brocks

At the time of writing, the war in former Yugoslavia was occurring. Pictures of ethnic extermination camps, barbed write, mass graves, Happeing again. Happening despite the awareness and vows after the holocaust, that such things must never be allowed to happen again. An awareness that had grown stale. Do the horrors of history, even in our ignorance or innocence, ultimately make even the smallest of our acts, some how complicit?
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