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"remold" poems
It's not simple It's rusted nails breaking skin Lightning flashes in a hurricane The crack of a body hitting the pavement It's the pinch of nails in your palms The tremble of your legs when you think they're watching The ache in your chest when your binding is too tight But not tight enough It's not a stormcloud, it's a typhoon It's not a discomfort, it's torment Its the steel beams in your chest snapping under pressure Your skeleton crumbling so maybe your chest will be flat then But all those rusted nails and steel beams Heated by the fire and fury of passion Remold into something new Someone who can stand a bit straighter Speak louder Tip their chin up And show the world who they are Who he is. Dysphoria is a skyscraper crumbling to ash But it's also scraps of wreckage Reminded into a safe haven A place of rest A place of comfort
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Sep 9, 2014
Sep 9, 2014 at 9:21 PM UTC
Dysphoria
What is that reality that appears to me in dreams, chock-full of misgivings and doubt. I counteract my fear of life with my fears of slumber, dust in my eyes and stiff as lumber. In truth - I'm not stiffened by fear, by nausea, post-pubescent sacrilege, or all of the above. I'm not up-kept, grizzly with ennui; I'm dizzy, confiding my loss. I feel the lips that kiss but can't be drawn: from mind, stencil paper pen, on sheets of thick pale and cellulose, for the heart to mend. My unsteady hand is my fearful friend A soft embrace from a warm mind Somber and so full of Life clung to by the scent of Death Endowed with an eternal promise and regret from veins of plants or the glow of stars. Cold, mechanical debt. (my heart, so full of...) (my mind, so hot with...) (my body, trembling in...) I am gulf-like a stream full of trees and glass echoing a promise of shattering wind. Will I be published after my death, asleep predating, a life conceived. Will I live to see myself alone, and to discover that which I'm not? Or will I stutter and wallow a curse, Up towards the sky, Until the final verse. On a boast or chasing the Rail, pale as dirt, and shallow still. Will my true love abandon,  break, strain, Burn away the wax, or hurry to blame? Omit my evils from the star-charts, then just to vacate the void. From the half-broken corridors of rocks, nooks, crannies. Carry laughter through the night burn the effigy bowed-down, before dawn's courageous, ever-splaying light Angels, of Carlo and Marx, plenty by noon festoon, again by day thus replay, Endeavor to infinity, fair child. Remold the light by Day and remold the Day by Night.
0
Feb 23, 2013
Feb 23, 2013 at 12:53 AM UTC
Tenderness
What is that reality that appears to me in dreams, chock-full of misgivings and doubt. I counteract my fear of life with my fears of slumber, dust in my eyes and stiff as lumber. In truth - I'm not stiffened by fear, by nausea, post-pubescent sacrilege, or all of the above. I'm not up-kept, grizzly with ennui; I'm dizzy, confiding my loss. I feel the lips that kiss but can't be drawn: from mind, stencil paper pen, on sheets of thick pale and cellulose, for the heart to mend. My unsteady hand is my fearful friend A soft embrace from a warm mind Somber and so full of Life clung to by the scent of Death Endowed with an eternal promise and regret from veins of plants or the glow of stars. Cold, mechanical debt. (my heart, so full of...) (my mind, so hot with...) (my body, trembling in...) I am gulf-like a stream full of trees and glass echoing a promise of shattering wind. Will I be published after my death, asleep predating, a life conceived. Will I live to see myself alone, and to discover that which I'm not? Or will I stutter and wallow a curse, Up towards the sky, Until the final verse. On a boast or chasing the Rail, pale as dirt, and shallow still. Will my true love abandon,  break, strain, Burn away the wax, or hurry to blame? Omit my evils from the star-charts, then just to vacate the void. From the half-broken corridors of rocks, nooks, crannies. Carry laughter through the night burn the effigy bowed-down, before dawn's courageous, ever-splaying light Angels, of Carlo and Marx, plenty by noon festoon, again by day thus replay, Endeavor to infinity, fair child. Remold the light by Day and remold the Day by Night.
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73
You can rate me, You can bait me, You can freight me, You can strait me, Simulate me, Even better Drop a roofie, Game a debtor. You're so groovy, misbehaving, Misbehaving, Give it to me, Trouble waiting, Fascinating, Always mating, You can wake me, You can slave me, You can grade me, You can shave me, Integrate me, I pulsating A new navy, All the skimmings, Underpinning Jehovah's witness, Keep on stalking, Better fitness, Keep on shocking, Shell is thinning, Gettin' gotten, Rot 'n' reeling. Don't touch my bikini. Better smile when you see me, You can stare That's a freebie. Don't touch my bikini. Looking is free, But touching's gonna cost you Something. Smooth and lanky, Hanky panky, Got no treat or New York Yankee, Super leader, Count to seven, Go to Paris, Break the leaven, Roger Maris, Bleed the Czar, Shooting star, You're so levy, You're so sunny, Getting ready, Here's the money, Socking heady, Making honey, Toasting herons, That's not funny, Waiter Betty, Way too **** You're so on it, You're so honest, You can fool me, You remold me, All the preachers never told me, Heavy breathing Punting reason, Welcome season. Don't touch my graffiti. Smile if you dare, Oily oinkers everywhere. Keep watching, you graffiti. Next time you'll learn That touching's gonna cost you Something.
0
Aug 9, 2017
Aug 9, 2017 at 2:18 PM UTC
Don't Touch My Bikini
I have often turned within my grave to ponder of the reason why Upon the date of my birth, you took me to your secret hide Underneath an aspen tree within the deadest of nights You took to me like a moth to a ball of flickering light With the devils own smile plastered upon your face and the slightest of hand You produced a sanguineous jar of hearts and an ominous jar of black sand You grasped my hands in your work enured and fairly calloused paws Looked me in the eyes, and told me to forever leave my pale hands raw "Never soil your untouched hands, your hands and eyes you shall avert' "Never bruise, nor ever hurt, nor shall they be ever touched by dirt, "Never touch a rose, nor touch a bee, as danger is an all you see, "Close your eyes my little darling, and all of life shall be but a dream." With the trust of a mothers child, I kept my eyes tightly squeezed Wished upon the star within the midnight sky, wavering in the breeze Held my hands up to my chest, hoping the fluttering and staggered slips Not to be seen by your face within the light of moon as from the sun it dines and sips Of a heart that had only once been given to me and should have forever stayed mine But the greed inside all mens' hearts want, and reaches out to grasp a young new 'hind' With another slight of those calloused hands, you took my life for your own pleasure And stole what was rightfully derived as mine; a beating heart, you took your leisure A working mind, once a clock, now fully had come to a skidding stop You took my bones and my teeth and used them as a fertilizing crop The very worst thing that you did, you took my pride when you took my skin Shaved off clean with a diamond edged razor and worn as if you were mockeries twin Burried underneath that beautiful aspen tree, I've been given the time to remold But my life had been stolen, the soul forced out before the bells had tolled In the time it had taken for my pieces to remold, I had realised something then and there; There were always things that were meant to go untold, but the truth is ringing upon the open air You wanted more than what was offered and had bitten off all you could chew But if I'd known back then what I know now, I'd know real good men only come in few
0
Jun 18, 2013
Jun 18, 2013 at 10:50 PM UTC
The Dominance Inside of a Real Good Man
I have often turned within my grave to ponder of the reason why Upon the date of my birth, you took me to your secret hide Underneath an aspen tree within the deadest of nights You took to me like a moth to a ball of flickering light With the devils own smile plastered upon your face and the slightest of hand You produced a sanguineous jar of hearts and an ominous jar of black sand You grasped my hands in your work enured and fairly calloused paws Looked me in the eyes, and told me to forever leave my pale hands raw "Never soil your untouched hands, your hands and eyes you shall avert' "Never bruise, nor ever hurt, nor shall they be ever touched by dirt, "Never touch a rose, nor touch a bee, as danger is an all you see, "Close your eyes my little darling, and all of life shall be but a dream." With the trust of a mothers child, I kept my eyes tightly squeezed Wished upon the star within the midnight sky, wavering in the breeze Held my hands up to my chest, hoping the fluttering and staggered slips Not to be seen by your face within the light of moon as from the sun it dines and sips Of a heart that had only once been given to me and should have forever stayed mine But the greed inside all mens' hearts want, and reaches out to grasp a young new 'hind' With another slight of those calloused hands, you took my life for your own pleasure And stole what was rightfully derived as mine; a beating heart, you took your leisure A working mind, once a clock, now fully had come to a skidding stop You took my bones and my teeth and used them as a fertilizing crop The very worst thing that you did, you took my pride when you took my skin Shaved off clean with a diamond edged razor and worn as if you were mockeries twin Burried underneath that beautiful aspen tree, I've been given the time to remold But my life had been stolen, the soul forced out before the bells had tolled In the time it had taken for my pieces to remold, I had realised something then and there; There were always things that were meant to go untold, but the truth is ringing upon the open air You wanted more than what was offered and had bitten off all you could chew But if I'd known back then what I know now, I'd know real good men only come in few
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30
Two roads, Both of suffering, A travel of torment, An alcoholic buffering, A mental health descent. Two roads, Both amnesiac, Disasters once foretold, A twisted aphrodisiac, A trauma to remold. Two roads, And no yellow wood, The lines are blurred and gray, And no choice is ever good, With the forces at play. Two roads, And a traveler, With sanity at stake, The wrong choice could unravel her, A choice she's yet to make.
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Oct 24, 2023
Oct 24, 2023 at 4:31 AM UTC
No Yellow Wood
I like my body. But sometimes I wish I could remold my fleshy fat body like playdough. Of course, this would only work if I were a sculptor. I’m not. Perhaps if we were playdough people there would be molds one could buy. Empty negatives that would press and squeeze until one fit the manufactured, predetermined shape. But then we’d be cookie cutter playdough people, everyone the same. Forcing ourselves into bodies that aren’t ours and wearing faces that some mold-maker somewhere decided was more beautiful than my real face. I think I’d rather stick with my flesh and fat and blood and bone body that, for the most part, I like.
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May 21, 2012
May 21, 2012 at 12:20 AM UTC
For the most part
I am sad that I am always alone. Please God, won’t you throw me a bone. I always smile and wave to those I know, but inside, my heart is going cold like snow. I am trying being me, doing what I was always told. You always say, don’t give up yourself. Be bold. Now I am bold with a smile that brightens any day, But all I want is for you to remold my heart like clay. God, help me to walk and be like you. Send me a sign and that’s what I'll do. Let me use my gifts, and my smile, to walk along your road for hundreds of miles.
0
Mar 12, 2011
Mar 12, 2011 at 8:05 AM UTC
Hey God
Don't hold onto opinions as if they were solid concrete objects. Hold onto an opinion as if it were transparent and malleable. This will enable you to see through the fallacies and remold the opinion to its true form. For an opinion is simply just that, an opinion. And like all opinions, they are interchangeable in accordance to the allegations of fact. And a fact overshadows an opinion in all cases and that is a matter of fact.
0
Dec 20, 2010
Dec 20, 2010 at 6:35 AM UTC
Opinionated
We didn't plan this exit Its HARD you went so fast My heart races just thinking about it I had next week planned out for us I wish all you did was not show up but We all miss your absence. Tick tock I try to prepare for this day It hit me hard when you left Tears welling my heart It crumbles like clay I want to run with you faraway. my emotions like lightning struck my feeling like sleepless eyes my regrets like raining days my thoughts like shattered rocks I long for peace of mind U left a hole in me I try to remember our love Your promises, character, your touch Then I shiver, WHATS NEXT?? One day, I'll clear my heart Reveal my loneliness to God Let him remold my pain to beauty And I will bless the Earth the way you blessed me. Dedicated to the bleeding hearts (families of the Nigerian Plane Crash), To friends who have lost someone. And to my Grandma. R.I.P http://news.xinhuanet.com/english/world/2012-06/05/c_123239997.htm
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Jun 5, 2012
Jun 5, 2012 at 4:12 PM UTC
Facing the Death of someone you Love
Mozart changes the color of eyes from deep blue to see green. Work with me and I'll summon up everyone's artificial ancient animals. Sleek thin machines whizz with mechanism pumping out more and more machines to make machines to make metals for more machines. Shine chrome greased and spinning while white coated retrievers pace exactly random, occasionally checking their clip boards. Machines whizz on, we could tune a cello with their perfect hum. We could tune a tuning fork with their perfect hum. Machines for materials for machines that melt and remold old machines to new.  Born machines. Wet black discs slide clean downward only to spiral upward again. Clarinet to oboe, slurred crescendo back down in again. Then forward: Back, Up, Left, and left music back down in again. "Where's our end?" and back down in again. "I see the top!" and back down in again. "Talk to me, please!" and back down in again. "Throw me a float!" and back down in again. And sink, and sink back down in again back down in again back down in again
0
Aug 30, 2015
Aug 30, 2015 at 9:32 PM UTC
Manufactory
blue star, single handed with a *** of gold I reached out and spoke to the old I went back to the last one and the last all the places where my heart was almost sold and I remember by you, the split one I was told you spoke so wise so bold renered your eyes toward me and said behold and I did watched intently the love you scold the fires that drenched our household with love but still I was cold it was the earth I wanted to hold the shape of it I wanted to remold but our thoughts are controlled and us humans we unfold to that which glitters all that which is gold I am not a diamond I am merely flesh and bones filled with gravestones and broken jawbones blistered backbones for reasons that will maybe forever be unknown my hormones burst in my in my bones my thoughts release groans and I love the sound of the tone I am here, alive happy and alone
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Oct 30, 2010
Oct 30, 2010 at 10:45 PM UTC
Skeleton
Under the steam and jets of pressure I held my face to my hands And created a pressure from muscle Bone to muscle And various tissues in between Leading to flesh Pressing against flesh I wanted to remold my face To change my appearance I can't explain it I think I'm sick And no, this is not Pre-teen melodramatic **** I mean sick I'm dripping ink Drowning in sin. I don't know where up is Or where to begin...
0
Jan 21, 2013
Jan 21, 2013 at 2:58 AM UTC
Alignment
Your lips look so soft, and your voice; like velvet, so sweet. You make me feel so warm from my head to my feet. I love the way you look at me - your eyes blue like the sky. I wonder what you're seeing as you look right into mine. I wish you'd put your thoughts into words, wish you'd whisper them into my ear. With that smooth voice you have you don't know how I long to hear you saying what you think of me. Tell me exactly what you think - please, stop leaving me guessing.. Analyzing every move you make, even the way you blink. I know, I'm a hopeless romantic. Daydreaming of you constantly, wishing you'd man up. Just guts up and ask me! Maybe I'm rushing things, but how can I not? You got my heart racing and now I can't make it stop.. All I want is you and your heart, I'll do anything to get it. I know you want mine too, even though you already stole it. The.first time I laid eyes on you, you took my breath away. I know that you're a gift from God and I hope His plan is for you to stay. You make me feel like a queen, a beautiful, delicate princess. I'm still trying to see what I'm supposed to make of this. Never have I felt so loved, except by God Himself - you make me feel so wanted, you've helped me see myself. Sweet boy, look what you've done; you melted my heart, set it free. Your beautiful heart for God has helped to remold me. And your beauty on it's own, it lit a raging fire.. I don't think you know about this passionate desire. I just want to hold you, make you the happiest man alive. Darling I can't explain how truly hard I strive. I strive to let the "me" in me shine, to be the masterpiece God planned. I want to be perfect for Him so that maybe, just maybe, He'll have you be my perfect man.
0
Feb 21, 2013
Feb 21, 2013 at 1:46 AM UTC
You.
Your lips look so soft, and your voice; like velvet, so sweet. You make me feel so warm from my head to my feet. I love the way you look at me - your eyes blue like the sky. I wonder what you're seeing as you look right into mine. I wish you'd put your thoughts into words, wish you'd whisper them into my ear. With that smooth voice you have you don't know how I long to hear you saying what you think of me. Tell me exactly what you think - please, stop leaving me guessing.. Analyzing every move you make, even the way you blink. I know, I'm a hopeless romantic. Daydreaming of you constantly, wishing you'd man up. Just guts up and ask me! Maybe I'm rushing things, but how can I not? You got my heart racing and now I can't make it stop.. All I want is you and your heart, I'll do anything to get it. I know you want mine too, even though you already stole it. The.first time I laid eyes on you, you took my breath away. I know that you're a gift from God and I hope His plan is for you to stay. You make me feel like a queen, a beautiful, delicate princess. I'm still trying to see what I'm supposed to make of this. Never have I felt so loved, except by God Himself - you make me feel so wanted, you've helped me see myself. Sweet boy, look what you've done; you melted my heart, set it free. Your beautiful heart for God has helped to remold me. And your beauty on it's own, it lit a raging fire.. I don't think you know about this passionate desire. I just want to hold you, make you the happiest man alive. Darling I can't explain how truly hard I strive. I strive to let the "me" in me shine, to be the masterpiece God planned. I want to be perfect for Him so that maybe, just maybe, He'll have you be my perfect man.
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56
Mummy,you're my plan B. I wished you knew that. I wish i could say it out to you. But these words are sealed. During my bad days, i look at you. How your eyes sparkle. Smile glitters. All that is enough to make me -remind me- stronger than before. Some days I see how your eyes gets heavier. Body gets weaker. Hands get rougher. But you never once complain. Some days I see you crumbling. Like how dried breads turned into crumbs. So allow me to pick up this pieces and remold you. Some days I watch you shine Like angel walking by or like sunshine after rain. Those days you made me feel alive. We don't share much. In Fact I don't share any of my problems to you. But you know me like the back of your hand. Like a student remembering formulas. Mummy, you're my plan B. Cause no matter what happens I'll always find my way to you. The one who whom i look up to. Catch me when i fall. The one, I'm proud to call "My wonder women". Tearing steel door off its hinges.
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Mar 22, 2015
Mar 22, 2015 at 4:22 AM UTC
My wonder women.
Cool as a frazzled cucumber I take my words and clench them in my jaw and my fists I fight every urge to throw them in your face or deliver them in a well-timed slide smoothly down the table because I know they would destroy you or at least buy your silence because your talk is so cheap But I hold them. I return them to my mind and break them in to pieces. I remold them as light and hope and love. Because hate is a weakness, an ugly waste empty sounds leaving bitter taste so I could through words in your face but that won't be the case because hate is just too easy.
0
Apr 13, 2016
Apr 13, 2016 at 11:17 PM UTC
Easy does it
my heart is no longer gold i've grown cold its not in my control and it isn't something i can remold
0
Dec 30, 2018
Dec 30, 2018 at 1:14 AM UTC
cold hearts
If we’re all actually in the hands of a Christian God— His tight grip has melted me like chocolate, and I’ve slipped through His mighty fingers— a puddle of delicious rejuvenation. I spread everywhere, molding to all of the bumps and cracks in the floor. Sweet, sweet freedom. His son can never mop me up and remold me into His image.
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Jun 21, 2015
Jun 21, 2015 at 7:58 PM UTC
Chocolate
“To The Women in My Life” Take ownership of every inch of you Each individual strand of hair On your head That glint in your eyes Your sharp, dangerous smile The suffocating curve Of your hips Your slender legs That’s all you The declarations exploding out of your mouth Like fireworks Popping, popping, popping Beautifully disrupting silence Beautifully making your presence known Staining everything it touches In hot, vibrant color That’s all you That all belongs to you Remember that Tattoo it on your heart Because people will try To wipe it away Like eraser shavings taking up space You are not temporary You are eternally beautiful Let my smile remind you My natural laugh My loose shoulders You are phenomenal A strong, powerful woman You’ll leave your print in the stars — “Step Up” “...I think it has to begin with women who have the creativity in their hearts and souls — who want to be musicians, who want to be engineers, who want to be producers, who want to be part of the industry on the executive level — to step up.” Why are women being told to “step up?” Do you not see the tears in each word The blood in each lyric The fire in every performance You cannot wash it all away Or remold it like clay Women do not need to step up Neil Portnow You should step down
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Feb 2, 2018
Feb 2, 2018 at 9:20 PM UTC
To The Women In My Life / Step Up
She wore the purple pieces of my skin. I wore black in soul and spirit. By the postal service once- "You and me can dance in here". May we kiss again when old? By the fire tell our stories. "What a shame that you can't stay" (I wave goodbye) you thought - "don't worry" "Steal that car" - you said "So red and oh! so flagrant, (In the sea we must let go) Take me there, my precious vagrant". Die with me, my younger lover. Die with me drowned by the sea. Let the wind remold your ashes, let the water wash our lashings
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May 23, 2013
May 23, 2013 at 5:17 PM UTC
My G(host)friend
It's global, it's gotta be. A prefrontal lobotomy, all I can see is electric, eclectic tastes, wasting away in the urgency of this ****** surgery. All that I am is s.p.a.m. Superficially possibly a man. Send in the volts and let me drive, but something tells me, that in coasting I'm not really alive. more electricity,pity the grid under which I have hid and played dice with the demons,inoculating myself against the woes of this world, it's all global. Tear drops like rain and in comatose again I throw a double four, Eight like the eight ball and rolling as I fall under the knife. Life, give me a break. You take what I ain't got and that's not a big deal,but get real,what I ain't got is all I have got and you still take the lot. Send in the amps', let me curl up in the cramps of electric,slick on the oil,put my brains on to boil,let me forget all I know and let's get on with the show. In the surge of brain blitz when my head's blown to bits and they start to remold me,fold up my history and remake my memory, all I can see is electric.
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Dec 17, 2013
Dec 17, 2013 at 5:34 AM UTC
The meter man.
Lord here I stand At the river's edge Ready for the cleansing power Of the water Ready for the cleansing power Of your love Clean me Both inside and out Remove from me Anything impure Remold what is left Into a useful tool Energize my soul Tune me to thy will
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Feb 13, 2019
Feb 13, 2019 at 4:34 PM UTC
Wash me
If my tomorrows were in summer's reach I'd sail this day, on waves of bitter wine, towards a newer dawn, on bluer beach for ocean sprays, sting none to lover's brine. The amber heated sky should melt her cold that frozen 'neath my eyes her parting words; another's light has won her love's remold, let then each phrase be fed to hungry birds. The Gulls can stomach salt I cannot bear for they're accustomed tasters in disdain, and pine for greater feasts, for I not dare, but castle sands, and hide my love's domain. Tho' if no love, there'll be no summer's day! For all will be as bleak, as is, today.
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Sep 12, 2018
Sep 12, 2018 at 3:04 PM UTC
A Broken Heart For Summer (Sonnet)
Everyday I mold and remold myself with the clay of God. My sculpture tools are the breath, intention, compassion, and love. The excess clay in structure from programming of hate, greed, separation, I dig out and it falls away To disintegrate. Everyday, I look in mirror   and see the greatness before me smiling, grateful, full of life force energy. A God's masterpiece in motion ready to mold all my dreams into reality.
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Oct 21, 2017
Oct 21, 2017 at 10:33 AM UTC
EVERYDAY
This worlds needs to change, It needs revolutionized minds and sanes, Politicians corrupt and misuse resources, Voices of people interrupted and ignored, What has this world come to? Where have all these Mavericks and Dissidents run off to? How is it that one preaches them? Maybe a few of these can help reshape, remold and restructure the world.
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Mar 26, 2017
Mar 26, 2017 at 3:42 PM UTC
Where have all these Mavericks and Dissidents run off to?