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Bruised Orange Sep 2014
My son runs, wrapping arms around
my nebulous waist.

"l love you, Mom!"  He squeezes tighter,
as if letting go would be his black hole.

"I love you, too, " I squeeze back, absent mindedly.  (Where is the cream? I need coffee.)

"I love you more!" he breathes, without pause.
He gazes into my eyes,
searching my planets.

"Oh no, that can't be true," I retort.
I forget the coffee, his eyes are starlight.

"I love you to infinity!" he exclaims,
staring harder.

He wants to sail the Milky Way with me.

"Me too," I reply, and remember oxygen tanks.

I'm speaking in light years, and I hope the sound waves will catch up to him.

His face cracks into a million years of forever, before he lets go,
dancing across the universe of our livingroom,
his solar system intact.

At least for now.
Kara Jean Apr 2016
Spinning chairs, crashing
Dollars bills, in a G-string
Face hammering,
by sweaty sticky ***** cheeks
Plastic suitcases, held tightly
Chug your drink it's time to leave
Walk cautiously, drink powefully
Ting, ting, goes the machine
She winked at her, she pinched back
He said let's go
Their room opening
Laying, the mysterious women on the bed
He grabbed her hips
His wife watched, caressing her ****
Door goes cold
Sun shining brightly
Eyes being punctured into gaping holes
Cheesy over done smile, stepping into the livingroom floor
Perfect outstanding family
Morally hidden, detrimental corrupting
Their professional suits, look so clean
Appearance is everything
Calli Kirra  Aug 2014
Livingroom
Calli Kirra Aug 2014
Turn a light on,
Baby I'm comin home
When you know,
You'll know
I just know
The steam will leak off my writing on the walls,
Probably
But honey,
I promise I'm almost home
Jean Sullivan Jan 2016
He would come home from work with Shel Silverstein poems and candy cigarettes.
My brother always took the fake cancer sticks and left Shel for me.
I would make origami swans out of MASKS,
and paper hats out of The Giving Tree.
All the windows were always open in the house,
and the breeze would stir up the wind chimes hung both indoors and out.
Mom was always painting in the dining room or on the porch,
and dad would bring a new canvas home for her every week.
At night we would all eat dinner in the living room and watch Jeopardy,
and mom and dad would sit really close to each other and try to answer the questions on the TV.

Sometimes he came home from work with roses for mom because she was pregnant,
and we got our first family photo taken,
and we hung it above our fireplace like rich people did.
One day dad didn’t bring a new canvas for mom so, she painted the couch,
and they argued,
and my brother and I began to build blanket forts in our bedroom,
and we drew signs that said no moms or dads allowed,
Mom started getting too tired to cook dinner, so
dad would make everyone quick meals,
and he would sit on the lazy-boy instead of on the sofa next to mom.

Sometimes he would come home from work with bags.
Not shopping bags, but bags under his eyes from working two shifts.
At home he would fall onto the painted couch and sleep most of the day.
Mom began visiting my grandma by herself,
and while dad was asleep my brother and I would chase geese in the yard,
And sometimes we would catch one and we put it in dads room.
It started getting colder outside so we closed all the windows in the house,
but the outdoor wind chimes kept dancing in their music through the fall.
Mom and dad started yelling at each other more and more,
and mom was getting really big.

Sometimes dad would never leave for work.
He stayed inside all day and played video games on the TV,
and mom was still sour about dad not buying her new canvas boards,
and she painted the TV screen when dad was in the shower.
They yelled for a long time,
and my brother and I stayed a few nights at my grandmas with mom.
Mom went into early labor,
and my brother and I sat in a hospital waiting room for eight hours.
Dad showed up to see my new sister be born,
and things were okay again for a little bit.

Sometimes he would come home with big hugs and a last minute fishing trip,
and mom asked him to stay, but he wouldn’t.
Grandma came over to babysit my brother and I so mom could go to a party,
and we built another blanket fort, only this time it was in the livingroom,
and we rented The Passion of The Christ,
and I dreamt that dad was going to sell me for thirty silver pieces.
Mom came home really late and wobbled in a pair of black stilettos towards her bedroom,
and dad came home two weeks later,
and mom and dad screamed at each other,
and mom flushed her wedding ring down the toilet.

Sometimes he hated coming home,
and the neighbor with eight fingers started flirting with mom,
and  he would pretend that he was gonna cut my fingers like his,
and for some reason mom laughed at that violent gag.
My brother and I sat by the door at night in case dad came home,
and the new baby liked to cry a lot.
And one day I snuck up on mom to scare her, and
she was holding broken glass from the family photo to her face.
I told my brother and he thought that maybe she was just trying to shave,
like dad use to.

Sometimes he stopped coming home,
and mom lost the house and moved us into the car.
The eight fingered man got into a fight with mom,
and he syphoned our gas twice.
One day I saw dad in the Meijer parking lot,
and he was with a blonde woman,
whose **** were literally bigger than her head.
I woke mom up and told her,
and she drove to a different lot.

Sometimes he never called me or my brother,
and mom met someone new,
and the new guy had baggy pants and an obsession with football.
And mom got pregnant again,
and the new blonde hair blue eyed baby looked nothing like his dark skinned father,
and we moved into a house again.
My brother and I stopped mentioning our dad to each other,
and the windows in the new house were nailed shut.
Mom was always tired, falling asleep on the toilet or while cooking dinner.
I noticed that gradually we began living with more and more painted furniture.

Sometimes he would write a letter to us,
and mom said if it were a letter then it’s probably from the jail,
and no one ever told me why he went to jail.
My brother and I never wrote back to him,
and I caught my new step-dad burning the old family photo.
One day dad called the house,
and he said he wanted to see us,
and talking to him felt like talking to a stranger.
Mom and the step-dad began collecting small orange bottles,
and at night they locked themselves in their room.
My brother and I would make beds in the livingroom,
and all my siblings would sleep on the floor together.

Sometimes I think about my childhood,
and I’m okay with how things turned out.
I know to fully appreciate the calm of an open window,
and I often write people letters now.
I don’t have the time to see mom and dad much anymore,
but I often feel sorry for them and their aimlessness.
I visit my siblings on weeks when I can,
and I try hard to love them the best that I can.
I’ve forgiven the things that might seem unfair,
I’ve moved on to a new life,
It’s better, I swear


*
My brother and I found a box of candy cigarettes at the supermarket last week,
and before bed last night I read aloud Shel Silverstein's,  A Boy Named Sue,
and everything was good again.
David Bojay Mar 2014
Boy: "Dad i think I'd rather take the bus today, I don't feel like walking, can you pack my lunch right now as I get ready?"
     (Boy goes into room in a stomping movement)
     (Dad starts preparing lunch)
Dad: "Are you staying for tutorials today? Your grades dont look so good, and it's starting to reflect how you're acting at home.
You're always so lazy now."
Boy: "I'm not sure if I want to stay for tutorials, I'd rather go to sleep afterschool.
School is tiring.
I'll be home later than usual though."
     (Boy starts walking towards the door and checks his pockets for money)
Dad: "Okay, well be safe, where are you going afterschool?"
     (Boy turns around)
Boy: "I was about to tell you, I need 40$ for a fieldtrip today, sorry for the late reminder."
Dad" You should've told me earlier, I'll go upstairs and see what I have in my wallet."
     (Dad goes up the stairs rapidly)


There's times where lying creates curiosity in a mans heart, and wonder if the liar is really telling the truth.
Although they know, they dont want to say anything, they'd rather trust.
Sometimes I lie, sometimes can be all the time for some people.


     (rapid steps going down the stairs)

Dad: "Here we go, $40... What time do I pick you up from school?"
Boy: "Around 7:30 pm."
Dad: "Alright, I'll be there.
Hurry out, you're going to miss your bus."
     (Dad grabs boys head, and kisses his forehead)
"I love you son."
     (Guilt glows in the boys eyes)

Boy: "I love you too dad..."

     (walks away slowly not wanting to admit his lie)


     (boy walks into school)
     (greets his friends)

Boy: "Aye, Matthew, you still down for afterschool? I got the $40, my stupid dad actually bought that I was going to a fieldtrip, we have until 7 to get back."

Matthew: "Dude you dont feel guilty? Not even I would lie to my dad face to face."
     (Both laugh)
Boy: " Is your friend still hooking it up with the *****?"
Matthew: "Yeah, he's coming along with us, I hope you brought a jacket, it's going to get cold tonight."
Boy: "I did, dude I'm nervous, what if we get caught."

People have instincts on whether or not they committed something bad, the boy knew he had committed something bad, something he knew he'd regret at the bottom of his heart.
The trust in his fathers eyes killed him the second he went out the door towards his bus stop.

Matthew: "Trust me we wont, give me the $40 right now and I'll get us two grams of white widow, or do you want OG kush?"
Boy: "White widow, I was reading it has "cooler" effects when you're high."
Matthew: (laughs) "You're lame for looking it up, either way thats very true."

     (Both kids walk different directions at the intersection of the hallway)

Boy: "Alright, well I'll see you afterschool by the lunchroom vending machines."
Matthew: "Alright, I'll see you there...
And dude, don't worry, we'll be fine."

     Throughout the whole day the boy was anxious about what was going to happen afterschool, they didn't really plan anything, they just wanted a good time with marijuana and liquor.
Sometimes when I'm smoking I think if its really worth it, then I remember I'm sad for the moment, and these herbs I'm puffing on will make me smile for a few hours.

     (Boy sees Matthew from a distance and yells his name out)

Matthew: "Aye, I was just looking for you, we going? My friends waiting outside."
Boy: "Hell yeah I'm ready" (he answered with slight tone of worry)
Matthew: "Alright let's go, I've been waiting all day for this."
Boy: "Same here."


     (Both walk up to a black car by the side of the school)

Matthew: "Jesus! How've you been? This is my friend, he's going on an adventure with us today, he bought us some widow."
Jesus: (greets himself to boy, and unlocks the car doors)
I've been good man, just hanging out, work is going slow though. Nobody wants to get tattoos right now, maybe after graduation.
I'm so glad I dont have to deal with school anynore though, my mom always ******* at me for dropping out."

I dont think school can make or break your value as a human. I feel like whatever you love, is enough to pursue. I dont think can school can define intelligence. I feel like self perception of value is so low. I feel like people that love you will always tell you your value is higher than what you think it is.

Matthew: "****, mothers can be a hassle, atleast you love what you're doing now."
Jesus: (Looks at the boy) "What about your mom, what does she get on to you for?"
Boy: (looks down) "My mom died in a car crash... she was intoxicated, and didn't stop at the red light, and an 18 wheeler slammed right where she was sitting; the driver seat..."
    
     long silence
Jesus: "Sorry to hear that bro, I wouldn't have asked if I didn't know."
Boy: "It's fine, we should get going now, there's cars behind us and we're causing traffic."
     (drive off)

The boys vibe was killed by remembering the thought of his mom dying.
He asked Matthew to roll up a blunt, he was starting to get sad.
All of them took hits from the blunt, and soon they were touching Gods feet, and laughing so much.

Sometimes when you remember something you dont want to remember, you do things that can put your pain to ease and convince yourself that you're happy. Little lies.
Little lies to make you smile.
Little lies to make you feel relieved.
Little lies to be accepted.
Little lies.

Jesus: "Hey guys, I'm pretty ******* high, lets go somewhere and relax, I know this place where you can look at the whole city from a cliff.
You guys want to go?"
     (both nod yes)


     car pulls up at a cliff
Boy: "Dude this place looks amazing, how'd you find out about this place?"
Jesus: "I was wandering the woods and found it, amazing right?"
Boy: "Hell yeah, the view is great."
Matthew: "Will you guys accompany me to a beer or what?"
     Both smile and start drinking heavily

The boys didn't notice, but they were intoxicated, and higher than the Empire State Building.
Before they knew it, they were in tears expressing everything they wished people knew about them.


Sometimes your consciousness explodes when your body is let go from reality.
Emotions flow like waterfalls, fast and carelessly.
Unspoken feelings are yelled into the oblivion.


It's 7.

Boy: "*******, guys I need to get back to school, and if my dad finds out I'm drunk and ****** he's going to **** me!"
Jesus: "Keep your calm, here take a hit from this."
Boy:" Dude no, I have to go, drive me back."
Jesus: "Fine, Matthew can you drive? I'm too, well you know."
Matthew: "Sure."


All three were sharing laughs on the way back, and telling eachother which girl they wanted to **** from school. Matthew was sharing his roadtrip idea he had for the summer, and Jesus was saying how much **** he'd buy for the trip.
All three were excited, because they knew they had each other.
They were each made from different backgrounds, but they became the same when they smoked and got drunk.

Boy: "Matthew look at my eyes, they look red as ****, look at them!"

(Mathew turns around)
Matthew: "Hahahaha, dude they're so red, we need to buy you some eye drops."

(Matthew accelerates still looking at the boy)

Tire squeals were heard from a distance, but kept getting closer.
(Matthew immediately turns around)


He tries to brake, but it's too late.
His reaction was too slow, his vision was blurry, and didn't know where to turn.

Ambulances covered Jesus's face while on the bed he was lying on.
Matthews face was unrecognizable.
The boy had lost his legs, and half of his head of missing,
His brains was splattered all over the winshield.


Later on, when the dad found out his only son had died, the week after the incident, he hanged himself in his livingroom.
You know, it's crazy how a lie can take away future plans and expectations.
Plans erased.
Expectations like they never existed.
People's footsteps on earth, like if they never stepped on it.


My mom used to tell me it's wasn't good to lie.
I didn't believe it, lying had brought me a long way when I was a child.
I never knew I was going to suffer consequences 5 months ago, when I was suicidal because I was depressed.
I guess every lie I said came back as big drops of sadness raining in my heart.
I guess it's better to feel pain in truth; in the present,
than to feel pain in the future because of something you could've avoided with honesty.
In the end, it all catches up to you.
mark john junor Jan 2014
there's a hard silence here
and there is a fresh echo of the dim kitchen light
in the ***** linoleum tiles that zigzag the floor
even the air feels broken as it limps slowly
through the room
i stop near the door upon entering
and gather myself
like a ragman gathering the tattered remains
stitching the fragments of self with the thread of awareness
weave the image of self into the reality of the moment
with the hesitations of someone who has lived this moment too many times'
it will come to naught
she is alive but her heart is dead
the dust on my worn coat is from the graves of my
fallow field where we once laid a crop of hopes
but i cannot abandon her to this barren place

i know i perceive only the narrow sunstricken pages
faded and stained with the words legible only to the hardy eye
but its the deeper tale which
even the gardener of times bloodstained trophy's
would fear to tread
his leather shod hands worry the intricate gears
of the mechanical face she wears
he manipulates it to wear a lopsided grin
pantomime of happiness for my birthday
but i watch the vacant places behind the face and see that
with a blemished mechanical eye she looks out over the oncoming
evening through the livingroom window
its cracked and ***** surface turns
the setting sun into a parody of dawn

she greets me but just stares out the window
as if she is waiting a lovers return
i stand infront of her blankly
we wait for the hours to pass
i fix her tea even though it isn't broken
and make small talk
as she makes mechanical sounds
till she sleeps
i leave with the dawn
and make my way to my own bed at last
to fend off dreams that something somewhere could be different
and wake to the sorrowful song of a passing bard
his thin feet dancing on a moonlight hilltop
meant for lovers only
and he is dancing alone
alone
arubybluebird  Jul 2013
nude .
arubybluebird Jul 2013
I want to fall in love with you today tonight and tomorrow
I want to shy away from your touch only to bring you back home with me
I want to lay down by your side late evening on the livingroom carpet
And tell you all the ways in which you are beautiful, you are beautiful, you are

I want to eat dinner with you and breakfast, too
I want to connect with your mind, your words and your skin
I want you to look at me like it's the first time

I want to love you enough without pushing you away
It seems your absence draws me nearer

I want our love to live in videotape
Our memories reeled in red, blue, green
Red, blue, green

I want to be the great strange dream
That you are much too fond of for letting go
A few Radiohea_d In Rainbows / references.
Larry B Aug 2010
I only shoot to **** my food
Not for pride or pleasure
I hunt the meat we all can eat
Not for a mantlepiece treasure

But late one night I was lying in bed
And someone was at my door
I jumped to my feet like a ninja in heat
And crawled across my floor

It was dark inside my livingroom
But I could see a silhouette
The next thing I saw took my breath
It's something I'll never forget

A deer was wearing a ski mask
His antlers poked out the top
I jumped to my feet as fast as I could
And yelled, "Bambi you better stop"

He turned around and began to charge
I screamed for my wife to get back
He pulled a knife and cut my arm
With another sneak attack

He chased me down the hallway
The bathroom my only hope
But when I tried to get inside
He lassoed me with his rope

He tied me up and robbed my house
My wife was under the bed
He went through all of our dresser drawers
Her underwear on top his head

He finally left, the house was a mess
There were hoofprints everywhere
He took the remote to our color Tv
And even our silverware

Before he left he pointed and laughed
And called me a crazy old geezer
But my wife is scared and cannot rest
Until I put him in my freezer
stokes Jul 2011
i remember us when we were young.
we two little girls,
not yet three,
sitting on my front steps, you
spitting sunflower seeds at my feet
and me ******* on the salt and
saving the insides for later.
we, inseparable at four,
singing and dancing at your bday party
(only two days before mine),
smothering cake all over our faces,
shoving icing covered fingers into our open mouths.

i remember that you were larger than life.
your head was always trying to
catch up with your body,
that expansive geography of
flesh.
even when we were kids, you
would pass your rolls of fat off for *******
(except for that summer, when
i came back and you moved away.
i was the one with the
biggest ******* on the block
then, and
instead of boys,
girls came running, wanting to see
what was hiding under my shirt.

that summer
i started my first love affair
with my new neighbor. the one i said had
the ghetto name? we would meet
in my livingroom- she on the couch and me on the floor
or
me on the couch and she on top of me and
she would lift up my shirt, struggle with my bra
and cradle my budding ******* like newborns.

...i never told you about that,
but i wanted to,
and i'm sure that's the summer when you came back to visit
and tried to get me to come out in your sly way.
you told me, "mali,
what's the point of boys? they're all trouble
anyways." and i mmed,
and you waited
and i changed the subject.

remember that time i bragged to you about smoking ****
for the first time? and little Rich
from up the block
tried to sell us bud, but we told him
we had our own? so to look cool, we stole
your grandma's ****, and i felt bad about it but
you told me it was okay because
she bought it
from my dad
anyway. i remember we rolled
a joint the size of your middle
finger and we smoked the whole thing.
i said i didn't feel nothing, but when your grandma asked us
about it, the only answer i could muster was,
"****?
what's that?"
i don't think she believed me, but she let me off the hook
and i wasn't allowed
to come over for a little while.

i remember being seven
on summer nights
and playing tag in the bushes that separated our houses or
catching lightning bugs in jars across the street
in front of the church because there
adults couldn't hear
our whispers about naughty things
like
cute teen boys and
what *** must feel like.

you seemed
to have so much freedom. you could
walk around the corner,
past the crumbling apartment where
crackheads would stumble out during midday-
all the way to the gas station
to get a huggie and a bag of chips, you said, but
who knew
what exciting adventures you might have had,
what interesting people you might have met?
my dad rarely let me go up and down the street.
i remember being so mad about that that. my big brother said
it was because me and him, we were
different.
now i realize he meant that we were
(supposed to be) better.
back then,
i wanted to be like you.
free to make my own choices. when your grandpa candy
asked me if i wanted to go on a ride on his motorcycle,
my little body shook with disappointment, because i knew
i had to say no. i sat on my front steps and
waited forever
until you came back, half hoping that
you had toppled off, or one of the other
dangerous things my mom warned me about
had come true.

instead,
you came back looking triumphant, your round cheeks
burning
with the excitement of your trip, your
half-permed hair
a messy halo
around your head.
SG Holter Nov 2014
She is in my bed resting.
My computer, TV and fireplace are
In the livingroom.
All the beer is in the fridge.

I have treasures
In my
Every
Room.

When she wakes up, we'll sit
By the fireplace, drinking beer and
Listening to music,
Deciding which movie to watch

Together. Until then, I'm staying
Outside, on the stairs  
In the autumn evening rain, playing this
Game of *All or Nothing.
Zabada Zipporah May 2016
the words you speak - hurt;
glow on the bedroom wall of my mind
livingroom flow no livingroom
and always a listener too
splashing in my head
you fill to the brim
overflowing love insomnia sin
creating allusions
what should've been

— The End —