M: Favorites

Oct 2013 M

Artemesia Blastside

Breathe in,
Breathe out,
...
I'm lying in bed
Honey-sweet sleep is pulling my eyes to unReality, dark and velvet and purple
But I got these words tossing in my belly
Roiling and churning up my throat
Trying to spill out
And burn the pale ****** air
BUT
at the same time
Trying to crawl back down
Scraping with just-cut claws down to my toes curling up in plush-snugly socks.
Scared to be born.
SO
I'm lying in bed
Ready to spin truth wrapped in fibs sprinkled with simile
I just feel frustrated
Because I'm saying the same thing over and over again
But it's just NOT RIGHT.
...
Here's the deal:
I'M NOT REAL.
Or rather, I might be real, but my existence is highly improbable.
I feel weightless,
like I could jump off a bridge and fly
But I can't even convince myself
I just hover on the knife's edge of uncertainty.
Am I real?
Or can I fly?
I know it's one or the other.
And I know it's double or nothing.
Either I'm real- just a person
(but- here's the rub- one who knows her limits...)
Or I'm not- I can fly and dance and
love men and **** dragons.

...

This knife blade is anguish.
I'm not suicidal.
I just want it to stop.

...

I need someone to prove me wrong.
I need you to look me in the eyes
And know that I am yours
And know that you are mine
And know beyond a doubt I exist
And maybe

just maybe

I'll see myself in your eyes
And you in mine
And some of that reflected certainty
might.
just.
stick.

....

*do you love me?

Oct 2013 M

jailbait

Oct 2013 M

Sarina

*******

he said
girls like me should come with yellow tape
police property, do not cross

and if that is because I am *******

I guess now
my skin should say: crime scene, do not

touch

because I am crying over men like they’re
still just boys.

Oct 2013 M

swimming

Oct 2013 M

Amber S

swimming

He was angry because the boy with glasses and a gamer shirt had told me he wished he had a girl like me.
It’s not you, it’s me. And the fish bowl that was twice the size of your head.
Punching the wall, I knew
jealousy was a
understatement.
it crawls under your bed and waits until it is four in the morning and you have nothing left
Except tears and yearning for something different,
yet you know you cannot have anything different,
because the thought of mornings without him,
and the thought of phone calls absent of his vocals
makes you want to rip open your ribs until you color his
freckles.
He was angry because he was threatened,
and it was so stupid, so animalistic.
I am not territory, not a tree you lift your leg to mark on.
I am a human, a human, a human, I just want to be
loved.
the door broken, his lips bleeding,
he kissed me until I thawed.
his shoulders shook as he cried and cried and cried,
please be mine, please be mine, please be mine.
jealousy is what we romanticize about,
yet it is the monster we will
become.

Oct 2013 M

Metaphors For Thoughts

Oct 2013 M

Elizabeth Squires

Metaphors For Thoughts

I'm a captured tooth nerve
amalgam appeased
restrained in containment
by my keeper
then I can be a prisoner
escaping the jail
my warder has lost
the keys of control
on dark days
my fathoms swirl
in murky mass
infused with blinding kelp
on good days
my porthole shows
clearness of eye
the glass reflects well
just to confuse
my ores composition
is misunderstood
the translation
metamorphic
changing
minute by minute
hour by hour
these ones are buggers
my microscope
isn't good with definition
will I or wont I
who knows
my borders are contested
being diplomatic
I make pacts and treaties
no monicker is required
the tried and tested
gentleman's agreement
that will do
my margins
can be thick or thin
comments fit in
usually they range
between
insult and praise
depending on the mood
I oft go to open cut mines
to find common minerals
which are useful on a daily basis
real effort is called for
when I delve into deep shafts
sometimes gems are quarried
precious ones to behold
well enough said
a letter is to be written
dear meditative home
we're returning soon
if we're delayed
after hours
p.s. leave the porch light on

Oct 2013 M

cunning weaver

Oct 2013 M

weaver

cunning weaver

I'll weave into your sleeping form and lace into your dreams; when you wake I'll be the light behind your eyes and the softness in your smile.
With sharp words and gentle intentions I will shape and guide this story. I am cunning and honest.
I'll get inside your head, but more importantly, your heart. There I will spin my tale and make you begin to wonder and learn.
I design and I scheme, I am crafty and clever. I create and I intertwine, I am fabricated and beguiling.
I am the sin and savior of imagination, I am the inspiration and the hollow ring. I am the advocator of make-believe and visions of passion.
I am the lessons of joy and strife, I am the morals, I am the parable of simplicity, I am the myths and legends that have withstood time.
I am the fallacies and disappointments, the misconceptions and outdated lore.
I am; I create. I entwine, knit, construct, contrive. I invent these allegories, bringing things into being.
(So who am I?
...I am love, for "love is a cunning weaver of fantasy and fables.")

twitter.com/cunningweaver

Oct 2013 M

Why do poets write?

Oct 2013 M

Richard Jones

Why do poets write?

My wife, a psychiatrist, sleeps
through my reading and writing in bed,
the half-whispered lines,
manuscripts piled between us,

but in the deep part of night
when her beeper sounds
she bolts awake to return the page
of a patient afraid he'll **** himself.

She sits in her robe in the kitchen,
listening to the anguished voice
on the phone. She becomes
the vessel that contains his fear,

someone he can trust to tell
things I would tell to a poem.

Oct 2013 M

my bus ride home on October 16th

Oct 2013 M

berry

my bus ride home on October 16th

just six minutes. that's all. hold it together.
stop. do not cry. please don't cry. they'll all see.
bite your lip. choke it back. be stone-faced.

five more minutes. you might get kicked out of school.
your parents money will have gone to waste.
they're going to be so mad. but please don't cry. don't.

alright, four minutes. keep your composure.
stop shaking your legs. your eyes are watering.
don't cry. just look out the window.

only three minutes now. breathe. don't cry.
do not cry on this bus. cry in your room. don't think about the fact
that you might've just ruined everything. more importantly - don't cry.

just two more minutes. that's all. the sky is so pretty.
look at your nails. ignore the lump in your throat. do not cry.
i'm begging you not to cry. don't. please, please, please don't.

one more minute. almost there. breathe. stay calm.
they don't know what's wrong. don't think about the fact that you ******* up so bad.
hold it in. alright. you're home now. you can cry, but you might not stop.

*(there's a stupidly long story behind this that i honestly don't have the time or desire to explain to anybody so don't worry about it i just really needed to distract myself on the bus.)