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 Apr 2012
BB Tyler
things don't exist in retrospect
and if something
eventually
doesn't exist
than what is
This?
Is it at all?
Once something is gone
one wonders where it went,
perhaps it was never really here,
and it's form was only a word,
hollow and limp,
set adrift and filled
with the wind
which it truly is.
Perhaps
we shall see.
Perhaps
Not.

In any case,
once we are the hollow again
it won't mind,
as this is we are the wind.
 Apr 2012
Rob Rutledge
The Universe, The Universe
As far as the eye can see,
And more.
Beyond a hundred horizons
Or any lands lore.
A law unto itself,
To which we are all subjects.
The cheek!
To be so intrusive and yet elusive in kind.

From here to always
And every step along the way.
It is infinitely large,
And we are infinitely small
Or so they say.
Well then rejoice!
We are forever insignificant.
Our most triumphant failures
Shall not stir the sea of eternity
From it's silent expansion.
 Apr 2012
Rob Rutledge
I remember so much and yet so little of that day,
I remember the woods near our home where I would used to play.
The den I made, smothered by oak and fern,
The dragonflies sailing zephyrs and their power that I yearned.

I remember clearer the presence of my father,
Struggling through gaps he was far to large for,
His smile strangely absent that day.
I remember words he whispered
"come child, today we are away."

Those words mean little now
So much more than they did back then,
When my mind idled with dragonflies
Locked in that wooden den.

I remember seeing the earth
Looking still, if not serene.
Defiant in it's rotation.
As countless ships,
Starward monoliths
Depart with naive expectation.

Some decided to stay,
As some always do.
The rest sail for space in search of silent refuge.
Once more we forgot ourselves
Embracing our own  foolish divinity.
Forgetting the folly of our past
As it echoes unto infinity.

I remember once, now gazing at alien constellations,
The lines we drew in shale and sand to mark our different nations.
The pettiness we adored and the diplomacy we abhorred,
We burnt the earth behind us
And fled unto the stars.
The last thing I remember,
That day in late September,
The last solar systems' ember
Was the rusting glow of Mars.

I forgot how much I missed that home
Over the twelve cold years in space alone.
This place is not so bad,
But the trees weep strange,
Leaves drooped and sad.
From my window I see my grandson run
Chasing the shadows of new earth's twinned suns.
Fresh from the forrest
A new found den.
A second chance
Don't
Fail again.
 Apr 2012
Alex Apples
Showers of droplets
Break in sparks
On moonlit glass
Their wintery shine
Mirrored to a gaze
Spears of ice
Melting in the night
Trailing windows
With silver beads
(c) 2010 Alex Newman
 Apr 2012
Brandon
I can feel you far from here
Blowing smoke from the ice in your lungs
Catching rays of summer sun with the palms of your hands
Opened, stretching outwards towards the touch of oblivion
The flickering of your eyelids to some bashful beat of beauty
Serene whispers of music only you and I can hear
Your lips caressing the air with a mix of sweet sultry words and ocean salt
The tenderness of acacias with the touch of thorns persisting perseverance

I can feel you far from here
Laughing at the conversation between ocean and seashells
Laughing your silver laugh thru pearl white teeth
Clenching nervously on your lower lip
And tugging at strands of auburn hair
Rolling your Mediterranean eyes
As your lungs fill with the slithering wisps of beach bonfire smoke
The blossoming of stars and the blooming of the misunderstood lotus
 Apr 2012
Searich
Up on morning’s dawn,
Looking out on blue ocean calm sea,
Nighttime sleep washed from my eyes,
Black coffee pours into my cup,
Steam raises Sunday slow sips,
Lips warmed,
Past week remembered,
New week planned,
Just sittin back gazing out,
Sunshine blue skies enfold me,
Morning’s day captures me,
Tis my lazy day just to be,
Oh lazy, Oh lazy old me.
 Feb 2012
her
My mind woke up, and its first thought was you.
Then my heart rubbed the grogginess out of its eyes and readjusted itself to the newness of the morning.
The instant it realized what my mind was thinking, a pang shot out all through it and it started to ache.
It was reminding me of why I shouldn't.
My heart and head do this every morning, and every morning I make them stop.
It's too draining to deal with on a daily basis.
My mind should know better by itself now, but it’s willing to break every single last rule when it comes to you.
Have you no mercy upon me? Upon my heart? Upon my mind?
Have you no compassion for the pain that you put me through?
Most mornings I feel guilty, as though I should go back to sleep, but there’s no point seeing as you take over my dreams too.

It’s always you, and I’m convinced that it always will be.

I go to sleep, it’s you.

In my dreams? You.

When I wake up... It’s no other than you.

The cycle is vicious.
You’ve overstayed your visit.

Please… just pack your bags and be gone, my head no longer wants to be your home.
 Jan 2012
her
She met him in the wrong place at the wrong time. But in that moment, her life was perfect. Everything was right. The stars were aligned perfectly against the black velvet sky, and the offspring of the moon sang sweet songs in her ears.  The wind was crisp and cold, and it played in her dark silky hair, games of endearment. He drew her in closely, to protect her from the cold. And she submitted to his efforts to save her from the harmless winds, because deep down she knew that the cold and her were good, good friends.

Oh, he was no good. And she knew it. But he felt good, and she knew that too. So she swooned in those arms, those hard muscled, soft skinned, light brown strong arms. Everyone told her no, they knew he was wrong but why listen to the wrong when the right is telling you not to get left? So she ignored their warnings and in love with him she fell.

Yes, she knew he was nothing more than a bad apple, but she couldn't resist her desire to bite down into its flesh, and go to town until she got to the core. She had no desire to finish, not until he planted his seed.

But the seed bore a tree that never grew. It withered and it died.
She's bitter, she cries.
It was the wrong place at the wrong time.
Please if you read this, give me some feedback.
 Jan 2012
ERR
Every day, she says
I think about that happening
And I want to shoot myself in the face
Don’t you
Dare
Mention that again
She wakes from the remembering, empty
And attempts to rouse a heavy husband
Who doesn’t budge
She downs the stairs
Empties a bottle
Fills an ashtray
And moderates sensation

Some thoughts
Can’t be contained
 Jan 2012
ju
Deathbed

Words spill beneath breath-
promise or threat?
Doesn’t matter.



synthesis

A deathbed-machine mourns, briefly-
before it’s switched off.
 Dec 2011
John F McCullagh
I found myself in darkness there
My hands reached out
and touched concrete.
I could smell the wet cement
and the odor of dead
chrysanthemums.

At my feet a wooden box
and a brass plate displayed my name
(Useful for Archeologists
though I doubt if any ever came)
my heart raced with anxiety
there in the crypt none heard me scream.
Where is the border beyond which sleep
would end my fear and ease my pain?

I woke in the darkness of my room
The sheets were dripping with my sweat.
It seems I'd been to hell and back
and seen the eternity of regret.
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