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 Nov 2016 aar505n
Thomas EG
When they tell you that they are a they,
or a xe, he, she, "whatever"... you must not invalidate this statement. You must accept it, even before understanding. You just might be the first.
 Nov 2016 aar505n
Thomas EG
Hold yourself back, girl,
Rest those wretched fists
The laughter is surrounding us
Don't try to make it quick

Your customs may not differ
From those who face the west
But slow your heart rate, girl,
For the hunter can hear best

Whisper behind the willows
And set your secrets free
They don't dominate you, girl,
Yet predate on you and me

Now, if the majority strikes
You should never dare wither
You're safe when I'm around
So... What if, girl?
 Oct 2016 aar505n
Marie-Chantal
Great Hollow She Home, the peacefully there's Mystery.
Dearly she labours.
Blood running, on to the summer flowers
WAIT till I come,

Left her, following low singing --
bare of everything

Let us go!
Go to the Devil!

Scorching heat and burning --
hang her by the neck

Thy trees mourned. She a Hollow labours....
Ah who was I that hidden from truly -----

Thy the end

Erected so obscure away.
Based on Aberdeen's history
 Oct 2016 aar505n
Silverflame
He calls her out when his imagination is used up,
then his ideas keep spawning, continuing nonstop.

Yet he can’t move his hands, they are paralyzed
from the touch of her hands; he feels hypnotized.

Her eyes are full of roaming oceans and thunder,
crushing small sailboats like a bloodthirsty hunter.

Her skin is gleaming in the veil of the silver moon,
reminding him of his first kiss with her back in June.

Her lips are covered in poison, like they were back then,
with a bare touch they can turn boys into grown up men.

Freckles are lightly strewn over her cheeks and nose,
smiling and blinking of all the little secrets she knows.

Her hair is chestnut brown with hints of flaming red,
dancing like fires in the reflection of the sun on top of her head.

The sky is trembling whenever she speaks a word,
sending shivers down his spine and making his vision blurred.

Whenever she takes a step the earth is loudly moaning,
making his ears on the very verge of exploding.

Her heart is a black hole storing mysterious crimes,
forgotten solar systems and corpses of ancient times.

Her soul is nowhere to be seen, it disappeared out of the blue,
making her a floating skeleton with something to pursue.

But when he takes the brush and pencil and begins to paint and write.
nothing ever happens; the canvas and paper still remain white.
 Oct 2016 aar505n
Jack Jenkins
The thunder tells the story
Frail laughter and frail glory
Of my mighty love
And my mighty jealousy
Hear the whisper beyond the crack
Of lightning and rain and howling winds
Know the body of whom I long for
Beyond the miles of our division
The distance too great for warmth
For hearts of passion and a wild side
Take me in your arms I plead
Let's see a sunrise wrapped together
Decided to use no punctuation on this piece. :)
 Oct 2016 aar505n
Vivek Mukherjee
The feeling when you want to write,
you want to express,
you want to scream,
you want to shout...

But nothing comes out.

Everything seems to go deeper within.
Pushing and shoving.
Through membranes thick and thin.
And then an ache...

A familiar one,
just beside the heart.
It pains and throbs,
like the heart has had enough
and wants to stop.
 Oct 2016 aar505n
Ryan Cripps
I no longer walk the line
like Johnny Cash.
I was born into this world
bold and brash,
but I couldn't last.

I'm knocked down,
and unwilling to stand.
A ten count has begun,
and it's almost the end.

"Nine" the referee yells.
Time stands still.
It's the final countdown,
and my blood has began to spill.
(c) Ryan Kane 2016
Twitter @RyanWritesStuff
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