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Kara Rose Trojan May 2015
Au(Or)al Tune
When (O)ppo(u)rtun(e)ity knocks –
            Ah, pour that tune into me
               n(O)t
just write or speak
            but
                        /zIg:zAg/
            gut--
                        --teral mut--
            --ter yarns
                        With
Mouth-churn--
--ing-beat-lick--          
                        --ings.


Half-grown seedling ([her]bal:e(X)ssen(10)ces)
                                    into sm(O)ke
adolescent (O)re worn from being p(o)(o)r—
                      it was nE(X)CESSary for:
battles
birds
beats
b(O)(O)ks
bottles
bucks
b(O)nes
boys
bei­ng(bad)


sm(O)ke-rings w(ear)y with surr(end)er      
      stripped
            v(O)wel
                    for
                       v(O)wel
thr(OU)gh the yawn: (O)nly
            “(O)h.”

             (O)h
              … foll(O)ws

                        the
You’re w(or)th-knowing-ONLY-(O)nce
            type of l(i)ke.
VERSE/VERSUS: the
You’re-w(or)th-knowing-AT:LEAST-(O)nce
            type of l(i)ke
VERSE/VERSUS:
                        for (u)s

it’s the worst type of verse
                        when it’s
            them:VERSUS:us
                     (verses)

likewise -- (O)r worse --
it should really be about//
      a bad in (u)s: Y(O)U:ME


(O)h after a
                        kn(O)ck
(O)h after a
                        t(u)ne:://
(end)-verse
for worse – it’s an
(end)-versus-us
                        type of verse.


(O)ppo(u)rtun(e)ity
            pouring
            ringing e(X)cesses
like
                     ear-worms to
                     hear words to
                     heat hearts.

Ah::rest that mouth-verse onto me.
            (restful//fluster)
Ah::rest that mouth
            (silent//listen)
soulless gall(O)w r(u)ng
lipless v(O)wel sl(u)ng
            like
ARTS::between::STARS
            then
VOICES RANT ON::into::CONVERSATION
            then
PAYMENT RECEIVED::yet::EVERY CENT       PAID ME

worst-verse:
           Y(O)u//like hanging
                        your dipTH(O)NGS
on (O)pportun(e)ity’s d(O)(O)r
            like
                        sm(O)ke-rings
            like
                        being(bad)
            like
                        Y(O)U:ME
            like
                        (O)h. n(O).

(end)-verse:
worst-verse:
            L(I)ttle.Kn(O)wn.V(O)wel::
            n(O)(O)se big for (u)s

            ALL.
softcomponent Nov 2013
she was reading haruki murakami
and licking her lips of muffin crum
bs - - i, placated via cellphone, calle
d to leave a message for a friend ab
out Oscar Wilde's De Profundis  a
s i think i forgot it on his couch spea
k-easy speak-fast distract myself wit
h cigarette headrush rants and slow-
mo's she moves close gazing as i c
uriously whisper back with connect
ed pupil and she comes so so close - - g
arbage can next to me close - - she keep
s peeking at me, pulls out norwegian w
ood scans road i awkwardly pull out an
thology of chinese poems from backpa
ck to possibly impress! she keeps peek
ing peeking peeking i almost start conve
rsation but heart-beats race-track grand
prix miss my bus and i know it almost re
trieve cigarette from pocket (ghoulish goo
dy) second-guess she may think it unattra
ctive? no shiney faced race horse (do u ev
en lift, bro - - no dude i don't, i literally do
n't lift
) cement truck clamours past and i n
ot really paying attention to the ******* c
hinese poems anyway begin to read the way
the sun glances off the spinning barrel like c
hinese poetry - - glancing always to newspea
k my way into awkwardity so ******* he
adrush
she walks away, turns on heel to loo
k me in darting eyeballs (are u coming? i sup
pose so, jesus
) i clamour onto my feet and foll
ow her pretend to be checking bus-times ya fu
ckin goof 15X arrives and she departs without
a smoke-signal we were close we were close we
were close and i missed my bus waiting for my
self to brave-and-snake
so i walk away pretend-
careless and finally retrieve cigarette from pocket
read the smoke like chinese poetry (ghoulish goody)
Cat Fiske Aug 2015
before grade six,
when I entered junior high,
witch felt like junior low,
as it was truly the smallest formation of this lowness they try to hid underneath this word "high",
like high school is alright if you get high enough to get though the rough times,
or maybe I still didn't understand the difference between these words,
the words that hurt like he hit with a closed fist but I was lucky to only get open ones,
to feeling like someone spiked my lunch milk because these definitions make no sense, and my brain is trying so hard to grasp so many terms at once it feels as if its tripping on acid,
but no.
its just distracted,
showing me being a foll of myself again and again,
a repeated playlist of all my mistakes,
of me tripping up.
thats about as far and close to acid as ill get.
but what hurts the most is english,
this first language ******* that the tried to wrap around my mind,
but at the same time I finally learned my first english lesson,
I was in grade six,
I learned a french lesson the class before.
and each and every day I had to work to learn the things,
others were allowed to learn before me,
because teachers and school systems stole my education from me,
were I only even remember sitting in english class once because we had a sub, and I learned cursive on the first day in grade three,
but couldn't spell my name yet,
and the mess I was got messyer as I tried to commit the ink to the paper,
where it made me cry because I knew for a fact I was stupid,
and teachers who still wanted to say I was fine and not help me had the decency to say I was smart,
when they were the reasons I could not succeed.
now letters,
and the alphabet,
had no rules,
why to this day I still have not mastered spelling and cursive,
the basic reading skills you'd expect from someone my age.
im 16 and I was 6 when I could divide and multiple,
by hundreds,
thousands by the start of first grade,
the only type of math,
that made no mathematical sense,
where the ******* how'd you get your anwser questions.
being older now,
I fight back writing
look at my ******* work you stupid *****,
so I simply draw an arrow and don't get the credit,
and I leave word problems blank.
and even with doing that,
I had to of gotten everything right,
for them to wanna push me a head a grade level,
because of math,
every single ******* year oh she could go up a grade!
and then my
reading and writing scores said I should repeat a grade,
and they just left me where I was,
see math is the gate way for me,
it was my only thing I felt good about I didnt know what else to call that,
math in my heart of hearts saved my life,
its the only reason I learned any bit of english,
enough to keep up my fight,
its the only reason I belived in myself,
because with math you just have to try,
and you have to try to solve your problems,
instead of writing about them like I'm doing down,
i'm crying while im writing
because they don't see how much they hurt me now.
I just wanted to write this, im going to take this and make something else from it.
Steven Hutchison Dec 2014
Once there boled a harmistor
With yarler like a tom
He ***** and frissed, but after this
His murly belly pommed

Choe and choe, then choe some more
He criggled at the thought
That sumpty soon he’d choe the moon
And abend would be glot

What could bew the buggle?
He plawed his nomer friend
Harmistor, you silly mer,
The pomming ne’r will end.

And so the woddly harmistor,
Bezined and full of dee,
Proquined the shole, the land in foll,
And called it Hungary.
after the style of Jabberwocky by Lewis Carrol
When you look my way my heart skips an beat,
Talking to you makes my cheeks blush,
I feel the heat,
It's rising and I'm falling,
Still I fear the day you'll leave me bawling,
I trust you but you'll break me,
So all I can do is dream of what we could be.

I want you more than you know
But I fear the day you will go,
I'm just sick of being a tool,
I try my hardest not to come off a foll,
But you see the truth you see reality
Do you see us do you see our unity?

I'm scared you'll break my heart,
But I can't ignore the facts,
I've loved you fromn the start.
QIsis Jun 2016
How did you know you were meant to be a healer?

Because I kept falling in love with broken people.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Then why are you alone?*

Because I'm broken too so im learning to fall in love with myself to get a taste of my own medicine.*

~Kwabena foll
#easier said then done.. #we will rise as time pass us by..

— The End —