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 Dec 2014
Jon Shierling
There are some moments
which bring true clarity,
whether by song or by
substance or merely by
the warmth of a human
touch against fluttering
fingertips grasping.

Those moments after
the heat of good ***
lying quiet and perhaps
content or maybe not,
staring at the ceiling
and listening to the
perfect rise and fall
of your lover's breathing.

The few minutes of
the workday paused
to take in the grandeur
of a sunset over a lake
with the simple open
happiness of a smoke break.

That one point in a
song when the world
dissolves around you
and there is no past
nor a future but truly
the here and now filling
you up with all you
feel has been lacking.

There's that singular
point of intoxication too,
when all things that
seemingly make no
sense at all when sober
suddenly come together
into one complete whole
to be lost upon waking
next morning hungover.

There are some people
who say that love is a
mere illusion, the same
as an acid trip or the
endorphins women
experience during birth,
mere chemistry that makes
us all that we are.

And there are also
those who preach
that all we are is
simply an experiment
by some divine personage
to see if free will works.

I don't have it in
me to believe that all
we are is anything that
can be quantified by
any singular theory
or description encompassing
all of human experience.

I don't have it in me to hate
anymore either, though I
have been given many reasons
to do so, it just seems so
adverse to everything I
have ever been taught by
people who loved me.

Yes there has been pain
and yes there has been suffering,
personal as well as that of
our nations', as well as that
of our understanding of
what humanity is as a whole.

We have done terrible,
unspeakable things to
each other in the name of
some rancid idea or another
and yet, others of us have
given all that we have
in the name of something
called empathy, maybe passion?

All I know for sure is
that I should have been killed
two years ago by my own
idiocy and yet I was not.
 Dec 2014
Francie Lynch
The pastries are tempting,
     But my little voice speaks.
Drinks spill into my cup,
     My little voice speaks up.
There's a beauty needing company,
     But my little voice starts warning,
And I'm hard of hearing.
 Dec 2014
bones
Please will
you pull
all my poems
apart
whichever way
you think
is best
I don't care
if you pull
at them gently
or hard
I just
want to be
undressed
 Dec 2014
Phosphorimental
Everything we see is
it’s pristine essence
casting the same light
from the womb of darkness.

Gripped by the dolor of a glaucous sky,
love's longing reminds us
that nothing is ever truly lost
to anything less
than the visual acuity of a heart.

Unseen signs never give up
their quest for being seen.
With a slight tilt of the head,
the light of the heart changes...
and so does everything,
everything.
 Dec 2014
Francie Lynch
Merry What?
Did I hear you right?
In this day
You have the audacity
To wish me
What?
Haven't you been paying attention?
You must have been out of the country.
You can't be serious.
It's Holidays or Seasons.
A fatwa has been proclaimed;
A jihad has been called,
The synagogue curtain is torn,
Graves open when that word's spoken.
We don't start the day
With The Lord's Prayer,
And you think you
Can get away
With wishing someone
A Merry Christmas?
HOHOHO LOL.
For the Quinfin.
 Dec 2014
Tryst
Today I thought about
Writing poetry

I thought about writing something
Ingenious
Clever
Some style
Never before seen or imagined

I thought about how to encompass
Feelings of sadness
Loss or guilt

How to make the reader
Feel something
Feel me
Connect with me

But then I realised
I could connect to the whole world
Have them all
Eating my words
Savouring each
Salivating mouthful
and I would still not feel them

I feel them through
Their poetry

I want them to feel me through
My poetry

And no matter how much I write
I will never
Feel them
Through my words

And so

I stopped writing
 Dec 2014
Sjr1000
He exchanged his
routines
for the
long dusty road,
he exchanged his
jeans
for a long white jacket
he called it the "white robe."
His hat said "Home"

He took off on the
road only travelers
go.

He had a pretty girl
he was was going to see,
then he knew
he would have to leave.

He stopped saying much,
mainly "thank you"
and "please".

He had exchanged
his mind set
for a new set,
his confusion for clarity
his narrative for poetry,
many said
it had led him astray.

He exchanged his
fullness for emptiness
and
began to take it all in,
the old dusty road became
the only way he knew at all.

He would stand in perfect silence
and
hear it all.
He would stand in perfect stillness
and
travel it all.

He exchanged his awake routines
for dreams.

He traveled here and there,
where ever
that dusty old road
would take him,
some places made sense,
some were flashes
of total innocence.

He had exchanged
his expectations
for creations.

He could love you on the road,
be with you
but with you
he would never go home.

Rumor has it
it was his fatal flaw.

He had exchanged
success and failure
for
experience,
he avoided many a cliff
many a fall
in having it all.

You won't find him
hitchhiking
panhandling
soliciting or pandering
selling drugs
or
in bed with your mother.

You'll find him in the whispers
you hear
in the rainbow aura
around street lamps
on night time
deserted streets,
the meteor at midnight
the green flash at sunset.

He had exchanged
staying for going
and
he was on his way
with dust devils
blowing
behind him.
 Dec 2014
Aaron Mullin
Written outside an OXXO*

I took a bite out of a Milky Way last night.

If you're playing god then you have to delve into such tomfoolery...checked Google news...checked NASA websites. No news is good news!

No headlines are good headlines, so I finished it. Tossed the wrapper, was still buzzing from the corn syrup...so I went back in and grabbed a Snickers...the glycemic index is a little different on this one...wonder what Google news will say about this?
OXXO is kinda like a 7-11 only Mexican
 Dec 2014
Amitav Radiance
More than the presence
Fragrance becomes a reality
Aroma which lingers around you
But you cannot touch
The flower is miles away in memories
Yet, the aroma is fresh, always
A whiff binds you to it
A surreal presence
 Dec 2014
Queen
The beginning of love is to let those we love be perfectly themselves and not twist them to fit our own image. Otherwise we love only the reflection of ourselves we find in them.
 Nov 2014
KA
...and I am to blame?

your affair with David?

and John?

and Mike?

don't accuse me of the sins that you committed.

you left me long ago.
 Nov 2014
Francie Lynch
Summer suns
Shine flawless
Near water.
Spring's wings
Transition and reproduce.
Autumn's offerings
Colour
Before winter sets in,
Deep and white,
Dark, dark night
Reflecting shadows,
Dropping the tired moon
Closer to our world.
Winter will be heard.
 Nov 2014
Jon Shierling
In the beginning there were three seemingly
undeniable Truths ****** upon me
subtly at first, as a cautious lover may
approach his lady's thighs with
tender fingertips and a darting tongue.

As years progressed and Time brought
the growing tide of self-will upon me
unexpected and outrageously violent
this Trinity became a mantra that
surely the Saints must have suffered for
as they in their wisdom created for those
poor souls such as I who knew that one day
a reckoning would indeed arrive.

Recited by rote:
I believe in the Unholy Trinity and
the immutable facts imbued therin
that there can be no Love without Pain
and to believe otherwise is folly
that said Love will only ever be a laughable farce
unless it be bought with power and fame and money
and that the Life one lives should be one way
and the path laid down by one's forebears
is indeed the way it should be.

And then somebody welcomed me
into painted arms with no terms lacking
expectations of anything other than
simple love affection and respect
meeting halfway and behaving like a human being
no need for nice cars and glossy trinkets
and finding my withered hope
a beautiful thing worth rejuvenating.

She found my heart a field lain fallow
for years unplowed and untended
left to wither and return to the desert
wastes from whence it was born.

But now.....
the rains have come.
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