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Gillian May 2013
let's just say i'm doing fine
jonas says he's going back to california
the roughage of a thousand ocean floors
roll me into their waves and
strangle my heart instantly
pulling him away,
always,
all ways...

jonas and i are in the kitchen at standing on end
"i'm getting out of here, you know"
he pulls out the Gilly mug he always uses here
i read the wisdom beneath the scribbles of his hands

jonas left two weeks ago, i won't hear from him
he's living like a shadow, passing over, never sinking in
everyone everywhere he's ever been will never remember his name
none of them will know who he is

will our ties weaken or will we make
deeper grooves every time we retrace a step?
like highways after years of traffic
Gabriel Roa Feb 2016
1) read me a poem

2) sing me a Radiohead song

3) talk to me about that time you ate that pizza by your own and how funny it was to see other people's reaction

4) hug me

5) tell me everything's gonna pass and everything's gonna be alright

6) play with me

7) take me out to play guitar and jam with weird and gilly and the spiders from mars

8) make me see the moon

9) help me breathing

10) tell me to make a list of things that make me feel better

11) talk to me with your bare voice

12) show me that photo of us that you loved so much you couldn't stop staring at

13) love me

14) be with me at my darkest

15) help me sleep without nightmares

16) let me see your eyes

17) show me your disc/book collection

18) talk to me about your mommy

19) play hide and seek with me

20) make me a list of the foods you don't like

21) read my bad sad depressing poetry

22) acaríciame la nuca y perdóname por no saber cómo se dice en inglés

23) remember with me those moments you really liked

24) be patient

25) be careful, but not that much careful

26) excuse my ocd about space and counting your inner stars

27) arrópame y discúlpame de nuevo por ser tan ignorante con el inglés

28) wait for me

29) say hi!, literally hi!

30) be happy,

and I'll try to be happy with you.
/spanish lines because I don't really know why/
tamia Oct 2016
Alone.
By September until who knows when, that is how I will start and end my days.
Calm mornings will no longer begin with the sound of your chatter.
Dead silence will fill the air as I eat my dinner all alone.
Every empty chair will be a reminder that you are not home.
From spending almost every waking hour together, we will only exchange brief messages each day.
Growing up has led us to this—one of you in Manila and the other one in Tokyo.
I’ll feel stuck in the four corners of my little room while you’re both someplace else.
Just the thought of not having both of you around makes me feel like a deer caught in the headlights.
Kisses, embraces, and affectionate teasing only older sisters could ever give will become less frequent…
Loneliness is something I have never known.
Mom and Dad will still be here, but they will be busy too, and I would not want to bother them.
Nothing will fill in the spaces of the house the way they’re occupied while you’re here—
One of you painting in watercolor by the windowsill, the other one listening to music until the wee hours of the morning.
Please always tell me about your day while you’re away, no matter how ordinary or great it may be.
Q¬uiet the noises that will shout in the head of a younger sister who is all alone.
Rise and live the way you have always wanted, but don’t forget about me.
Shine to the world the way you shine in my eyes.
Think of me as I think of you.
Ultimately, all I will do will come down to waiting for you to come back home.
Vinyls we share will rarely spin, the books we borrow from one another will be left to dust on the shelves.
What was once a house filled to the brim with voices and love only sisters could have will feel spacious and empty.
Xylophone clanging and the strumming of the guitar from the childhood we shared will seem so distant, but I will do all I can to make it feel like you are not far away—
Your favorite song will come up on the radio on some nights and I will sing along as we would sing together:
*“Ziggy played guitar, jamming good with Weird and Gilly, and the spiders from Mars….”
A story I wrote for my Creative Writing class.

To my best friends, my stars, my sisters—I miss and love you both.
WEB ~ Dec. 31, 1969: Three small-time burglars from Cleveland celebrated New Years Eve in 1969 by sitting in a car on a lonely road near Clarksville in rural Washington County. They drank beer and whiskey and waited for the lights to go out in an old brick farmhouse they were watching not far away. Perhaps the men were building up their courage. This was no routine theft job. This was the big time — ****** for hire.

At 1 a.m., the farmhouse went dark. The three men — Paul Gilly, Aubran Martin and Claude Vealey — approached the house, flattened the tires on two cars in the driveway, cut telephone wires, then entered the residence through a back door. After taking off their shoes, the three crept upstairs.

They carried two weapons — an M1 carbine and a revolver. Martin wielded the revolver. He snuck into the bedroom of  Charlotte Yablonski, 25, and shot her two times in the head. Vealey and Gilly entered the bedroom of Charlotte’s parents, Joseph (known as “****”) and Margaret Yablonski. Vealey attempted to fire the carbine but the clip fell out. Gilly picked up the clip, inserted it into the weapon and managed to fire one shot at Joseph Yablonski. Then the gun jammed.

By then Martin had entered the room. Joseph Yablonski was making a move for a nearby shotgun. Martin fired four shots with the revolver, killing both Joseph and Margaret.

So went the final political assassination of the ****** 1960s.

Joseph Yablonski died because he was considered a threat by W.A. “Tony” Boyle, a cantankerous bully who served as president of the miners union, United Mine Workers of America. Charlotte and Margaret died because the killers wanted no witnesses left behind.

Three weeks before the murders, Yablonksi had challenged Boyle for the union presidency but had lost his bid by a nearly 2-1 vote. Yablonski felt the election was fixed and said so. Federal authorities were looking into the matter.

Mining was a tough business. The UMWA was a tough union run by a tough guy — Boyle, who was corrupt and out of touch with the miners he represented. Yablonski believed changes were needed. He’d been working in mines since he was a boy. His involvement in the union began after his father was killed in a mine explosion.

Yablonksi met with Boyle in June of 1969, and the two ended up shouting at each other. About this time, Boyle decided Yablonski had to go. For good. Gilly, Martin and Vealey were hired for the job.

Police would later classify the three men as “clowns.” They left fingerprints all over the Yablonski place and were soon captured, tried and convicted.  Before Boyle was to appear in court on charges of instigating the ****** plan, he tried to **** himself by overdosing on drugs. He failed, only to die later in prison while serving three life sentences.

At a funeral mass for the Yablonskis, Msgr. Charles Owen Rice called the murders an “echo” of the killings of John and Robert Kennedy and the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr.

Joseph, Margaret and Charlotte were then laid to rest on a windswept hillside in subzero temperatures.

Major reforms were soon enacted in UMWA politics and in miners’ health and safety. The changes sought by Joseph Yablonski and others finally arrived. The price: $1,700 offered to each of the three inept assassins and the blood of the Yablonski family.
Claire Elizabeth Apr 2014
3.23.14*
Remember the evenings when we sat on your trampoline and listened to music that belonged in movies?
What could you have possibly thought of me in those moments that I opened up?
Did you actually still love me or did you think me a fool?
I thought you belonged with the sky on those evenings that the sun set in a pool of gold, because you were perfect enough.
I thought that the line of your nose and the curve of your jaw was perfect.
I suppose I still do.

It's like you died, darling.
That's how I feel.
I can't even talk to you anymore because you'd never answer.
I can't ask you how your sister is doing or how you and Joshua are in your friendship.
And you won't ask me how I'm doing because why would you all of the sudden care?
It's funny because you never really asked how I was doing, at least I can't ever remember a time.
Did you ever really care?
Was that entire six months a lie?
God, did I fork over my heart for only to gain a sense of heartache?
Please, I need to know.

Every time I think of never talking to you again my soul tightens and so do my eyes.
Or maybe they droop.
Can you tell?
Even as I am sitting here writing this all, pouring out my feelings my heart still forgives you for not replying to me.
For hating me. .
And I hate how I can't hate you, couldn't even bring myself anywhere near.
I hate the way you look at me with wide eyes, suspicious deer eyes, like I'm going to explode into a million pieces at your feet, like I'm going to beg for you back.
As if you're good enough for that.

Did Marina not feel like me?
You ditched her rather quickly, I have to say.
That was a **** move on your part.
Who's your new conquest?
Your new unsuspecting victim?
Jessica maybe?
Ir Gilly again?
They all think you're a lake, glassy and smooth.
But they don't get the shallow part.
You don't have layers, you don't even have leagues.
So how did I fall into your 2000 league deep eyes?
I must not have known how to swim. .
Qualyxian Quest Dec 2022
He says those aren't poems
They are diary entries
But is there really a difference?
7 11 for gas
Amazon gift cards come

Papa was a Rolling Stone
Sympathy for the Devil
I stand by the fire
He's in a gilly suit
We discuss laws about American guns

So much gray today
No beautiful buildings in sight
America is not Italy
Or Kyoto
Yo ** ** and a bottle of ***

Basketball at the high school
My youngest is left handed
I throw left bat right
Like Rickey Henderson
Done? Done.

            David Markson!

— The End —