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I’d write you a love song
but my ears lack the right components
and I would write you a ballad
if I actually knew what that is
I would make the hands on the clock
stand still so that we might share an infinity of moments
but all of my clocks are digital
I would buy you a whole closet and then some
fancy restaurants and swanky clubs
but I have five bucks and bills to pay
I would be honest with you
only I have such a hard time being honest with myself
I would be brave at all times
only I am riddled with fears of what comes next
I’d paint you a picture of perfect
but perfect is a word made up to make us want more
I’d give you more
but right now I feel I’ve got nothing left
I’d love you and be with you
but I only want what I can’t have
I’d be everything you need
only I’m a lazy assed poet
so I wrote you this
Begin at the beginning
in a time where you and I
Were something like a mirror
for the people in the sky
And even when the rain would fall,
reflections didn't change
The thought of something different
would've simply sounded strange
I wondered if your voice could lose
its harmony or hide
The moment I considered this
I felt myself divide
I couldn't hear another word
you'd ever speak again
No not in its entirety,
the way that it was meant
So how do I explain the things
I hear you say instead
Without the threat of adding on
or tearing off a shred
Put bandages around the wounds
we've given to ourselves
Begin at the beginning
only this time, somewhere else
title taken from Kye Kye's, "Reach"
 Mar 2014 Ian Cairns
Nat Lipstadt
Private
Parts


she awakens.
her hands journey to my private parts.
now, they are in the public domain.
I liked it much, so,
I copyrighted her moves.

indeed, I copied them
right down
saved them,
write down,
write here.

ain't young enough to be afraid no more
write what pleases me.

this day leases me
what pleases me
and this is as close as I can come
to being human
and writing my flawless poem.

this pleases me too.
I am breathing
But the air does not
Fill my lungs
Days overlap and melt
Into each other,
Life is slipping like sand
Through the hour glass
I am running out of time
Thoughts of life flash
By my eyes and linger
Closing my eyes,
A familiar gory picture is plastered
On the tip of my eyelids,
I lose inner perspective
As 'Russian Roulette' fades
Back through the speakers,
You know it's messed up when you
Can start relating to that ****
A brush of death,
One flimsy stroke,
On a vast canvas
The remnants of my conscious surrenders
And a lifeless body lies there.
It's lonely you know,
Having so many mental
Disorders reside in you,
Each fighting for survival
And
You can’t make sense of the noise invading your mind like the pungent
Odor of sacrificials
The sound of my voice
Is fading like the echo of sirens Vibrating in a storm
Of dust and sand
Leaving my heart semi dead
Everyday I get up
Pretending not to care,
Pretending not to fall apart
Permitting excuses and lies
It's easier this way,
Pretending not to feel
The strings holding me
Together loosening,
Not to notice my soul
Sinking into the ground
To shake awake the bodies of
Those long buried to help
I am a breathing corpse
Doesn't anybody see?
Don't they see the strange lines
Outlining my brown skin, or
The scars circling my eyes?
Time stands still,
Clutching to the dances
Of sleepless nights
And my nocturnal eyes
Do not see
Anything beyond moonlight
Like they used to.
I am rattling confessions
Disguised in rituals
Of last rites, these words
Floating through my mind
Just let me write them out,
Let me write away
a scream of fusses in rustic reflections -- off again, forcing trust is a silent revolution for us. no blades with this parade; grasp hot coals without blinking and YES i am on top of the world. NO i can't feel a thing. Was it the destruction of senses that bordered our hesitance? Blank pages won't fade away with this operation. only collect dust. And i remembered to close this mouth. Eye contact at a minimum. Contradictions lead to continuous disagreement. i feel it even when your voice reverberates though this mind of mine, no real sounds, piles of old junk mail and fast food wrappers left to dye in the open sunlight. weren't we prepared for a battle? Fists up, intellect down. We have reports of a beast-infected stand-still. Plots to ****. I keep my sketches in my pockets, next to packets of mild sauce and cigarette butts. Mistaken for less dangerous, but let's face the music while it still plays for us. Limited is what we have become. Pushing thoughts like empty strollers over bridges and ignoring the collision and the crowds that keep forming. oblivious, but not really... considering we chose this catastrophe. Drawing lines over famous portraits, orchestrating every moment. No regrets, no remorse. Broken bones and stolen show times. As we disguise our characters and dress them under fine white linen, we count the lines. we count the circles. we prepare for the unbroken. replacements are cheaper and easier to find. hollow, determined, violent. place fingertips on pointed objects and close those heavy eyelids. this is the ending. this is the awakening. this is what you wanted.
 Mar 2014 Ian Cairns
David
Hide my face from the spurious hopes of autumn,
They bloom from summer's desperation,
Their fruits are rows of teeth,
And they are planted in night seasons under cold stars,
Which stare down upon the children of those who turn in their sleep,
For they become sleepless men,
And I refuse to be their king
Dawn of mind, riding spirited dragon,

Broken claw of falling moon, still in sky,

Flash and roar of blinding Eastern sun,

Hiking the crest, on chains of mountain.
 Mar 2014 Ian Cairns
Lexi Cairns
I grab the wrinkled edge of time
And pull off it's mask
Reaching in to grasp at all the little pieces of him that have been scattered by the wind
Pleading to give him back to me
"He could save you,"
I say to no one.
I shout but no one hears,
They look at us but close their ears
It's too late now
He's long gone
Reduced to the ashes of the cigarettes he used to burn
"He could've saved you," I say
But it's a little too late
 Mar 2014 Ian Cairns
Rachel Ueda
Piercing hot water
Stabs my flesh
But no matter how
Hard I scrub
I can't get it of my
Chest
I tried bathing
In bleach
But it just burned
It in deeper
I tried bowing my
Head and ask
For forgiveness
But all I got was
Mumbled words in
A silent deliverance
I opened the
Darkness in the
Holes of my heart
Remembering the evil
In hopes I could
See it as painful art
But no matter how
Hard I try
I cannot purge
Myself of my oldest
Addiction
And I know it's time
To hand myself my own
Conviction
A Picture Perfect Time Of Year

The warmth of spring as winter fades
Brings excitement to the air
As lovers walk hand in hand
A picture perfect time of year

We watch as flowers blossom
See new colors on the trees
We hear the birds now singing
And it brings an inner peace

Cold and snow just a memory
Of the season that has passed
Looking forward to the days to come
Taking time to love and laugh

The true beauty of this season
Is the new love we feel within
Each day a fresh reminder
Of a time when life begins

The warmth of spring as winter fades
Brings excitement to the air
As lovers walk hand in hand
A picture perfect time of year


Carl Joseph Roberts
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