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Callum Foulds Apr 2018
I want to leave for London in a car that tramples the sunken roads,
But the arrogance of this place is always stronger than the will to keep convention, 
Where their lives are propped up in bronze coated frames,
But quickly I shall impale the corners, starting with the holes of the house.

But this place is confused and left to entrap it’s own young,
And having own sons tainted so you put up walls to keep your sainthood,
Since he’s losing it and drinking again which can’t be seen by the friends,
At last this shall all be our story, 
Coming up with even more obscenities! 


Come on it can’t be held together,
It can’t be helped either,
It can’t be that perfect show,
Where the arm extends far further than it should for her,
It doesn’t tell you how far it goes,
It doesn’t tell what it’ll achieve,
Come on she knows don’t tell her again,

Watching this shrink infatuate
something, a fetish,
Beyond even the most taboo the family
Breaks 
Leaving him and her to suffocate within their own walls,
Thriving yet completely truthfully dying,
Being a saint engages in pride, 
again, 
indulging in fallacy.


But I am happy,
For I know in London I can’t be touched for I shall sever the fingers and 
Suckle the blood, 
Away from the heat.
The complete heat
The absolute sweltering
And
The ultimate saints.
Skyler M Apr 2018
The trees seemed to close in on me as I laid in the middle of a clearing, my eyes staring up at the star-filled sky above. My breathing ragged from running to this secluded spot in the woods.
I felt the prickly pine cones under my back, letting silent tears run down my ink-stained face.
I had fought too hard, I wrote everything that I could have possibly done.

“Sing me down from the sky,” I sang to the sky, “All the way from death’s ledge. ” My chest felt heavy, whether it was my asthma or my anxiety didn’t matter anymore. I felt the scars on my wrist itch again, underneath my skin in a way I couldn’t relieve.
The trees were shadows, I could consider them demons but they really aren’t, they’re my home.
The only place I can feel satisfied with who I am.

I spent so many nights lingering in this forest, thinking the cure would be here. A mission for a purpose that would be found inside my head. Of course, I sometimes forget that my head is the most dangerous place to be.
I sat up and pulled my notebook out of the ground, along with a glowing pen. A symbol of my pent up creativity.

Maybe by writing a few poems, I’ll feel better about myself. I know that it won’t work, I need more. I need to have a name for myself, even if it’s just a few people. I want to sing to the forest and watch it sway in joy instead of pity.

I imagine myself on a stage made of bent over trees, the bark is slippery but I’m able to stand.
The people surround me, they are calling all our names. So, the ground holds me up, as I sing my heart out onto the makeshift microphone. My voice echoes and bounces through the greens, I’m finally outside my head, I’ve made it through every night and stood in a place I thought I never would.

Unfortunately, that’s not how life works. I wake up, my eyes once again looking towards the sky.
Again, words begin to spill out of my mouth in a tune, “I talk to myself and the dark grey sky beyond…”
Nothing answers, as per usual. It’s okay, I reassure myself, I don’t need a voice.
I wrap my hands in leaves and pretend that it’s a disguise.

Suddenly- I am home. My ceiling fan above me, whirring softly. My pen and paper laying on my chest. The night was sinking in and I am just as scared as I was the last night...
My mind turns in perpetuity
with no destination
as the phantasms are competing
for the grand prize;
my last stray of sanity.
They fracture the darkness
with their taunting iridescence  
never failing to catch my eye
when they’re throwing their very own pageant
held in honour of me.
They dance with one another  
clashing from time to time
spitting their chastised replies  
the only reprieve is found when I open my eyes
after listening to the echoes
of all those beneath me
and at 5’ 3”
there shouldn’t be many.
I write a lot of insomnia poetry.
(A Narrative of Omnipotence.)

Listen, and I will tell you a story
About the God of old.
A mighty rock for ages stood
In highness where no other could;
His throne secure and banner set
To reign o'er the earth.
He treads the dark and unknown;
No secret lurks by night.
By his omnipotent power,
All is brought to light.
A gesture, nod, or slant of the hand
Unleashes his might in the land—
Releasing an astounding force
That none can understand.
His way is sure, his word is swift.
In him everything consists.
Marvelous works he has done
Who shares his glory with no one.

All have felt the Lord's embrace,
Tho' none has ever seen his face,
As his eternal love and grace
Envelopes the human race.
"Are you are reptile,
or a mammal?"

<licks lips and rubs chin>

"Cold-blooded,
warm-hearted?"

<grips knee with left hand>

"When smelling a blooded roast beef...
...do you get hungry and share?"

"Or do you eat the guests first?"

<holding long-blade carving knife>

"You see, I like to think that you're both bugs, that you bug me and neither of you have any power what with my holding this weapon?"

<waves knife around erratically>

"Also, I don't like sharing..."

I only throw
my banana
at Chel-Sea

I only throw
my banana
at Chelsea

I only throw
my banana
at Chel-sea

Ian G Kennedy Mar 2018
Ian Kennedy and Pavle Pavlović

As Sol the Rouge begins to rise,
it warms Eve’s heart, but Downs her eyes.
A dusty halo round the flame
will touch the dunes and dawn proclaim,
as distant dusty storms reflect
on Eve’s dry eye and her deject.
To get up now it is her task –
No more in Sol-light can she bask.

You must recall: it was Eve’s Gran
who went to Mars to start a clan.
From little pool Eve chose her Buzz
and paired with him, who was her cuzz.
Through porthole now Eve sees no wood,
nor earthy ground for motherhood.
With hasty zeal space courier flies;
A sandy landing ’fore her eyes.

So, as the dawn of morn is broke,
our Eve then hops, with grace unspoke,
goes out of base to Lander Stop
to fetch the parcel she does hop.
Her ‘FedEx’ was by Earth prepaid,
and on this day had come her AID,  
by careful voyage, with prosp’rous end,
the ***** arrived that Earth did send!

Low-G and man-made air do need
the seed to make a better breed.
Incestuously is not a scheme:
a gene pool needs a brand new stream.
We want no feeble Mars-strain seed,
So A.I.Dee is for the deed.
From Earth doth come the flow of genes
as bottled stuff – you know the means!

To make the Martians extra strong
The Earth Decreed all inbreeds wrong:
All ***** from Earth-bound men must come.
Through outer space it must have swum!
In DNA do secrets lie,
tho’ some do think that fated sky
will give them scope to freely screen
the final flux of wanted gene.

“I’m not at ease, but lurk and look –
  I peer at pack from Earthly nook.
  Where linger ye, my family lift
  to proffer me some needed gift
  of fruit or nuts and comfort care?
  The time is right to use what’s there?
  No creature comfort do I need.
  My friends, I’m ready for some seed!”

“My boy must have my Buzz’s face,
  and then our girl should have his grace.
  A pigeon pair with rusty hair,
  and maybe also one as spare.
  We want his freckles on each cheek,
  that all who pass-by touch and tweak.
  Buzz wants them looking just like he
  yet also really be like me!”
                                                        
The­ season’s winds bring rain and freeze
and stirs up dust with just a breeze.
And when Sol’s power does make it soar,
the wind behind rolls more before.
If’s no heat from sunless sky,
with daylight gone, the storm does die.
Unlike her feelings which grow strong,
uprooting thoughts of what is wrong.

The storm now sounds like raging ire,
and echoes of her inner fire.
As sand blocks Sol for just a while,
it’s just so long that she’s fertile.
With redhead Buzz she wants to splurge.
To break Decree she now has urge.
“I need a gravid tum, now mine’s too thin!
  A child by him: I need to sin?”

To lock herself to Earthly Kit
and shrug off worry just a bit?
But she recalls her lover’s eyes
as endless hormones swell and rise.
“Here is The Kit for you to use”.
“I do detest! I do refuse!
Then fast it dawned on me.” – she smiled –
“I’ll flip the way to have my child.”

“ So at a juncture here I stand,
  with earthy Kit in my right hand.
  Now let me throw it out as trash,
  and see Kit burn to light gray ash!
  For we are first to break Decree.
  Oh gosh, it’s us! My god, it’s me!
  On Mars it is a primal crime!
  ’Hind bars might we be held to time?”

Unlike the Martian pioneer race,
they can no longer pick their place.
Air in the base is made for breath,
for outer air is instant death.
So Eve and Buzz are in the can.
And who’s to blame? It was their gran!
The Space Base is completely jail!
(Nor could they ever raise some bail.)

As red sky flares in real turn
then Earth’s old rules do curl and burn.
While sky does grow in ****** glow
Her love for Buzz will drive the flow.
“’Tis I, the bandit, burned The Kit,
with Buzz my man! To Earth: ‘Go flit!’
Like clarion storm I’ll shout, Rejoice!
and fiercely punch the air with voice.”

“This is the daybreak of my life!
  Tonight I really will be wife.
  I know this is my true found right –
  No more for me, moist tears at night.
  Instead, I spread some happy joy
  towards my big and beaming ‘boy’.
  O, Oh! how happy we are free,
  just jestful, zestful, Buzz and me!"

Next E-mail from the Earth appears,
and has our happy pair roll tears.
“A flaw was found in chromosome  
On all accounts must ***** succumb”!
“My heart confirms that right’s my choice:
  oh, come with me, let us rejoice!
  Today Mars broke the Earth’s Decree
  Last night we loved in our low-G!”

Next Sol does rise – Eve’s hopes do too,
as thoughts begin for Martian coup.
“Can women have new Martian Law
  to stop the rules that have a flaw?”  
“The Laws of Eve on Mars now reign
  and Earth does not its Laws ordain.
  From Earth it is today we deign
  that laws of Earth and Mars are twain.”

-----------------
Legal opinion: Eve's love-making was incestuous in two ways as it 1) involved having excessive intimacy in one third gravity 2) was with Buzz, her third generation cousin, which was against the reigning Earth Rule. (She escaped sanctions by going on to found the Martian Unilateral Declaration of Independence!)
This is unique co-poetry was written with Pavle Pavlović.
Daisy Hemlock Mar 2018
Her
Her mind is loud with language never spoken
Peering into the world as it swims through its fishbowl
With a gleaming silver sword, she fights the monsters within
Brave enough to live life differently
She sets out on a voyage: an infinite quest for knowledge
Picking facts like flowers
And weaving them into her tapestry of understanding
Her only true ally is herself
She is independent, invincible
Crying tears than aren’t hers: always emotionless
Mysterious to even herself
And as quickly as she came, she will go
She sees things differently
Understands how everything functions together
How everything is everything
How relative it all is
She is the universe, we all are
And when she dies, she will continue to exist
Brianna Duffin Feb 2018
Part 1: DESOLATE SPACES STILL
Depth of the gray evening
Envelops the lone wolf child who wanders through it
Slowly making her way up the river, careful of the damp moss on the cobblestone path
Only looking up from the ground to gaze upon the stars
Looking to the constellations for guidance, unafraid of what surrounds her
All she really knows is the cold and the dark and the stars
Tips fading as they emanate from the center point
Even as dreams fade with outward pushes, the stars fade as the light moves. And she moves.
She has class at 7:30 the next morning
Paling in importance as it looms closer, its pressure now mere hours from her shoulders
Ants crawling across the sea and she’s had her fill of  the meaningless chaos
Chaos. From ordered civilization emerges organized institution, but those incarcerated can’t be tamed
Even zombies without worth run wild within the stone walls
So when another stretch looms before the lone wolf as she breathes in freedom, she can’t care.
Slipping through her mind is only one reason to submit. She whispers his name in her mind.
Tall, handsome, sweet, and funny… just her type and he’s right within reach…
If she submits and lets herself try
Loud hints in the soft and subtle moments make her feel like submission is worth it
Left to her own devices, she’d wander forever. But now she’ll have to make her way to class.

Part 2: Great Lakes
I entered into a staring contest with the nerd from English class
It was a deep dive exploration of the Great Lakes
Two great crystallized depths locked on me
They mirrored each other brimming with emotion
They were a river and torch to baptize me by fire
But it was just a staring contest
And afterwards she turned right back to her notebook
Completely unaware she’d left my soul spinning
Which leaves me terrified of how effortlessly enthralling she is
That her eyes have such power… and she doesn’t even seem to know.
This poem appears in full here:
https://medium.com/@briannarduffin/english-study-15d428d7475
Michelle Vela Feb 2018
sometimes I feel as if I am photo sensitive paper
the world leaves imprints of images
exposing a narrative that attaches itself to me
as a string of memories in a darkroom  
where light enters and creates the shape of my identity
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