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S Fletcher Oct 2014
Bottled, bound in a brume blue-green,
a mist of Listerine again descends.
And slick, with what’s like shower’s
sweat, there's wipes of writing
on the wall. One thought, on
an endless loop of overcast,
warm marks on rippled sobbing glass:
o             u             t.

Seated, seeping. The mute little girl
fallen down the town well.  
We are half-aware of  the consequence
of these dreams of outside air. Clarity.
It kills me, but I suspect that now
a good deal of this vial’s moisture is mine.  

Chewing cautionary label gum,
(Do Not Swallow!)
We churn the potential
over and over in our mouth--
it taunts a minty tingle.
A curved black mark.
A chasm shadowed.
A welling up of a desire to gulp.

Desire for just one breath, one vision past
this germicidal upturned glass.
To live unlost, unwet, unmasked
a lifetime halled with gorgeous mirrors,
mirrors free from fog.
Annie Oct 2019
None by all and all by none
I tripped into a cage
That held me back and hidden
From the world unclosing gate
I raged against it’s iron walls
I wedged against it’s *****
I tried to break, to faint, to brawl
But ended on it’s *****

Until a hundred years of seconds
Had flashed past before my eyes
When silently, an echo halled
Down from the other side
It pierced my shell and yanked me
It dragged me through the dark
And nearly teared completely
My endmost hope apart

But after all and none
I breached a new surface
That left me breathe and choking
In a long forgotten space
I catched a glimpse of fire scars
And touched a new domain
That fetched and mesmerized my heart
Into a another kind of chains
alternately titled: breast ****** fallacy hi-jinxed!

In her “60 Minutes” interview aired
Sunday (March 26th, 2018),
the **** star known within red district
as Stormy Daniels bared
her "naked lady" version

swearing oath of honesty,
she emphatically **** cleared
on a stack of video nasties,
and ******* 'zines
now she can live rest of life

guilt free offloading
hush money endeared
a posteriori into infinitely
jesting bordello loop

with calmly enchanting bug eyed,
drooling media hounds,
whose nostrils flared
squelching the trumpeting Don,

who maliciously glared
for traitorously breaching
“genital man's agreement”),
playing the (sock it to him role
of goody two shoes)
christened Stephanie Clifford)

shaggy long haired
pseudo Mayflower madam averred
to right justice in sought after
****** free nation,
where the turkey
ought tubby national bird

mandating free codicil
to second amendment as of furred
thus, that *** hide from right to bear arms
premature sea r man *******
of Peter ought to be heard

where sudden sound
sans ***** seams burst
**** strapped unseen bulging Johnson's
onslaught hail of expletives cursed
out the mouth of salty sailor spewing Prez,
hook halled for a recess first
and foremost before
questioning resumed
     automatically immersed

within ****** tabloid pulp pit
***** sing Bacchanalian refused to quit
particularly when groin
set zipper (flimsy – obviously,

NOT put thru linkedin
locked down rigorous paces
realized, when pry vet eylit
of trouser snake split)

yielding singular (nada so sterling)
gamut gallimaufry variegated erector set
with singular bulbous
ram rod rocket like trivet.
Michael Kusi Aug 2018
Some would pick at the petal of the rose
And say he loves me, he loves me not
I suppose.
But feelings are so much more
Than uprooted flowers.
It is more than you and me
It is ours

That rose could be part of a bigger collection
A wedding bonquet
When we love into each other’s eyes
And say I love you forever and always
That rose can always be called
To be a boutonniere men pin to their suits
Standing as the best of men.

The rose can be laid down
As the flowers people give as we walk from the reception.
As husband and wife.
That rose can be put up
As decorations that celebrate everlasting to forever in a halled room.
Finally that rose can be taken off
After all of the festivities of the day
When garments are laid aside
Still smelling of perfume made from dug-up roses.
Being A Nonpartisan Author

One path of literary renown striving
     to craft belles lettres
     versus another aim
ming to inject castigation,

     fulmination, and intimidation
     (unlike tours truly) into
     hers/his epistemological dogmatic claim,
would exemplify the twofold tactic,

     I matter of factly exclaim
as an aspiring August author
     (foremost poet emeritus - ha),
     downplaying fortune and fame

     aye attempt to tread within
     figurative noncontroversial guidelines,
     yet nonetheless game
increased readership remaining

     safely shy of steering
     clear away NOT deliberately inflame
ming the moral majority, and/or
     being soak halled politically incorrect,

yet absolutely aware trite neutral,
     tis well nigh impossible
     towing thru tranquil waters
     subsequently inadvertently pitching

     smoldering embers sparking acquiring
     (even accidentally)
     fiery Machiavellian jobname
though methinks expressing

     notions, opinions, perspectives,
     would contradict advocating viewpoints
     incumbent within
     creative arts whereat lame

duck role would essentially be
     antithetical to general rubric maim
ming necessity to stoke thought
     provoking oeuvre of work name
lee poetry and/or prose sans,

     this scrivener to (dirt) poor
     to afford a penname
aspiring all the same
to experience even pocket change
     keeping my liberal
     minded material tame.

— The End —