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Old 09-18-2012, 04:42 PM   #281
AngryGoldfish
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Fumes and God
Written by: ali.guitarkid7

A censer scents an empty alleyway

its musk in the shadow of gasoline

burning the air to some degree


mercury runs free on the walls

like the muathins' voices embracing

the fifty-something-old edifice

but never together, always


a second


apart


There is no peace in the East,

only the censer and the adhan:

a song of fumes and God.
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Old 10-05-2012, 09:42 AM   #282
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Weird Bodies
Written by: Svetlova

In some Morning sickness he, slouching
over the toilet in frail and trembling surreal conception,
catches spittle and bile in his beard.

I could have carried it with a certain grace, I'm sure--
like the way ivories are meant for a slender, delicate touch.
Felt deep within my womb that there was a special space
carved out, through some act of God,
just for her, for us.

Even as a small child I knew it was there; inside me, waiting.
Stuffing pillows underneath my nightgown,
standing in front of my bedroom mirror
imagining the shape of a woman's body.

All I can do is watch the ultrasound,
dreaming that I felt some twist or twinge
and not just sympathetic pains.

His belly bulges from some unseen thing,
something that should have been mine.
Of what name, of what being,
of what part of me does it hold,
if any?
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Old 10-05-2012, 09:43 AM   #283
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Yor Bitter Dirth
Written by: Something_Vague

One lifeless dirge or I, a duke of hell
wakes in a bed thirty days past eviction notice;
sallow post-it notes taped to my door by Zachary
Thunderbird Cicero Leer: Salute the Mirror, all hail Caesar!
And the dead with dishonest pores,
Wandering mother and son,
fan their fingers like flames at me
and a distinct waiting
or familial hesitation like the gloating
halt of old, knobby hands towards wood grain.
A distinct pause as they touch something clean.

And at times, the rust from the red that drains
through my tongue sticks to the walls, something
like rum or rotten fruit, that stink from a peach
pealing too soon, or the organs of an orange
too large for its skin.

The porch I dig with a spade held together
from the arms of other men once my enemies.
When I meet the lip of the river Lethe, I, the duke,
submit a corpse
to keep on floating in the miitth, tolliing priistiine.

neither Saints,with arms riding tides of solemn
speaking or me, quiet on the bus downtown,
an echo moving like nearing blood,
I can feel it in my throat that coming;
and in the distance our glands are frozen,
my muscles stiff in acrid winter,
one that politely dares us to open our mouths,
and let it gather in our lungs.

And in the hour, descending deeper I'll meet him in ice,
and I'll know what it is to fall
into something luckier than violence.
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Old 10-10-2012, 12:11 PM   #284
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The Ghost Catcher's Pocketbook
Written by: Dæmönika

Welcome to our extraordinarily overdue second instalment in our “Everyday Pocketbooks” series. In our first instalment, "The Grave Robber's Pocketbook," we gave you a step-by-step guide into finding, uncovering, and encouraging your filthy, lewd behaviour/fantasies. After many court orders and ankle-tags, register-signings and a plethora A&E visits, our second instalment (we may have said that before) concerns those of us so shall be terrified of the dark no longer! We at...just realised we don't have a name yet...suggestions welcome!...are proud to present The Ghost Hunter's Pocketbook!

Follow these incredibly complicated steps and you are sure to have bagged yourself the ghost of your nightmares. Whether it be that ex who threatened you with that hammer that one time after prom, or the soon-to-be-shaky ghost of Michael J. Fox (1) quivering in the corner of some film studio, everything you need can be found in these very pages (or if you're reading this on an e-reader, **** you, you pompous ass, buy a real book, you look like a twat.)

Step1: Let us assume that the technology seen in the Ghostbusters films starring Bill Murray and the other guy(2) exists, you will have to procure some more rudimentary apparatus. Now, according to research released in June 2012 by Harvard University, ghosts love cheese. So first, buy a big block of Brie or Leerdammer, the favourites of ghosts worldwide. Vintage cheddar works fairly well as a substitute. Following this purchase, you need to buy a small glass cage and either a cheese knife or cheese slicer. The cage doesn't need to be much bigger than a cage you would use to transport your dog from place to place. If you have never had a dog, you know how big one is, just get a glass cage of average size. Unless, of course, your spectral target is a bit on the hefty side, such as Oprah Winfrey or Beth Ditto(3). If you can't afford a glass cage and some cheese (?) then a rope with a lasso on the end(4) will suffice. How to catch a ghost with a lasso is briefly explained in Step 4b.

Step 2: Select your target. If you're not fussed and just want to catch a ghost for the sake of catching one, skip this step. If you're still reading, selecting a target is a potentially tricky procedure. Sure, many people no longer with us would make great ghoulish torture victims, but just catching a dozen of the things and keeping them in their respectful cages in your bedroom would probably alert the neighbours to some wrongdoings. Trust this author, it is incredibly difficult to convince police officers that the morbid screams coming from your house every night for the past month are nothing more than your cat inconceivably conceiving(5). One is enough. Pick someone who wasn't too personally known to you, but not someone who had no idea you existed, those in particular have a tendency to be more whiny than screamy, like a Jewish comedy club on Free Bar/Bat Mitzvah Night. Pick someone you know by name but not personality, like Henry VIII or Anne of Cleves, the only one of his wives you can name without thinking(6).

Step 3: Now we will discuss briefly the location. If you could(n't)(7) care less, carry on to the next step. According to research conducted by the Golden Screen University of Hollywood(8), male ghosts tend to follow good-looking, slightly academically successful young women. Female ghosts tend to follow Naomi Watts(9). So, regarding whichever gender of ghost you wish to catch, follow either of their most common targets, preferably at night, keeping your wits and concentration about you. Ghosts can and will appear from anywhere in any direction and may not appear for very long.

Step 4a: The Catch. This can be very complicated depending on how long you want to spend hunting and catching. If you're not willing to spend more than ten minutes of your precious time, I suggest using a big-ass block of cheese and a mixture of chloroform and methylated spirits(10). For those with the patience, place the glass cage in the middle of the room/park/prison cell you've chosen and, for starters, place a single slice of cheese within the cage, somewhere near the middle, it doesn't have to be exact, most ghosts aren't mathematicians and algebraists(11). Once done, hide in a dark corner – all this takes place at night, I probably should have mentioned this earlier, so if you're doing this as you're reading this, please accept my apologies and wait until the sun goes down, you moron – and wait patiently. I must insist you not take a packed lunch with you, regardless of how long you intend on staying there. Ghosts have amazing peripheral vision, any movement whatsoever will cause the ghost to turn around and walk away. So no opening packets of crisps/chips(12) or Ryvita or whatever. Most ghosts tend to be very tentative, so every half an hour or so, creep out of your corner and add a few more slices of cheese – if you're using Babybel, add three (seven Mini Babybel) more at a time. Four Babybel (nine Mini Babybel) is lethal to ghosts. Lactose intolerance does not pass over to the afterlife as of time of writing, hence the love of cheese. The chances of catching a ghost this way is once in every 450 days, but this method is the only one confirmed by science(13).

Step 4b: To catch a ghost with a lasso, simply throw the rope over the shoulders of the ghost, then pull the rope tight. If you are having trouble visualising this technique, watch one of the many episodes of the Hanna-Barbera docudrama Scooby-Doo, Where Are You![sic](14)

Step 4c: After many nights and a shitload of cheese, you may be lucky enough to have caught yourself a ghost. Once the ghost enters the cage, slam the door shut. If you had forgotten to leave door open when you inserted the cheese, you deserve all you get in life. Ghosts cannot travel through glass due to the quantum features of blown sand(15). Once the ghost is secured within the cage, run like **** with the cage hanging in front of you by a couple of fingers, because ghosts are frightening when locked in the glass cage of purgatory.

Step 5: To get the ghost out of the cage without it pissing off and wasting many months of your valueless life, you need to purchase ghost-proof pincers. These tend to look similar to normal pincers, except there is a hand-drawn likeness of the Hello Kitty logo on the end of one of the handles. They are made of an alloy of alumin[i]um(17), copper, zinc, and radium. Ghost-proof nails (made from the same stuff) are required if you just want to keep it attached to your wall, assuming you aren't able to construct a room entirely of glass. Simply pince the ghost on the scruff of it's neck and lift it onto the nail/into the glass room and release.

And there you have it, in five easy to follow steps you have found your new occupation – likely unpaid – as a ghost catcher. Remember, friends, be responsible with your ghosts. If you have decided to catch Hitler(18), please keep him away from anyone not Aryan, including himself one seems. Stay tuned for Issue 3 coming soon to a neglected airport magazine rack near you!

1 – The editors would like to issue an apology to the soon-to-be-deceased Michael J. Fox. Parkinson's Disease isn't hysterical.
2 – Sigourney Weaver. Ed.
3 – The editors would like to make it known that the two women mentioned in the text are in fact not dead. We are working on rectifying this situation.
4 – A noose, in other words.
5 – Due to a current court order, this story is complete fiction. Wink-wink.(19)
6 – The editors could also think of Jane Seymour and Anne Bowling.
7 – Appeasing Americans (AA).
8 – The editors failed to confirm the existence of this university.
9 – As reported in the documentary film The Ring.
10 – The editors wish to point out that this is a joke conjured by the author's imagination. Chloroform is not necessary.(20)
11 – The author placed a bet that “algebraists” was a real word. The editors disagreed and promptly lost 40% of profits from this pocketbook.
12 – AA
13 – Correction; every 490 days, ghosts observe sporadic leap days.(21)
14 – Confusion surrounds the use of an exclamation point (!) at the end of a question (Where Are You). As of time of writing, the debate has yet to be resolved. Hanna-Barbera is suing the League of Grammar Nazis.
15 – The author failed to give documented evidence of this claim. Claimed truthful until proven otherwise.
16 – There is no sixteen. Made you look.(22)
17 – AA
18 – Other ridiculously racist and prejudiced dictators are available.
19 – Please ignore the “Wink-wink”. Ed.
20 – Please read as “Methylated Spirits are not necessary.” Ed.
21 – The editors are at a loss as to how their observance of leap days affects the outcome of catching one in such a way as this.
22 – The author refused to apologise, saying, and we quote, “**** them, they're idiots.” No further action has been taken.
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Old 10-17-2012, 12:38 AM   #285
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velvia (i)
Written by: brokencoastline
we open doors slowly,
step over sleeping bodies,
another house
another play or
something like one
and i'm afraid of how it ends.

that spring we climbed,
finding wind i forgot existed,
i stopped to wipe the dust of the path
from my eyes
but there are thousands of lights
in the night sky
and you took off ahead.

i'm learning how to slip away
from that ever-distant dawn
bleaching out the horizon,
searing my memory until it passes
and i'm left tracing the reds in your skin.

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Old 10-22-2012, 06:21 PM   #286
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i am the budapest
Written by: NGD1313

(i am the budapest
anthologist of second thoughts)

some nights you slept
on things you should've said
while i kept American breweries afloat,
(singlehandedly) with our rent money.
with nothing but
my insolence and impermanence -
my impotence for company,
some righteous, unearned fury,
while an oil-painted farmer's daughter
would try desperately
to ease her blanket insecurities,
make some sort of love to me.
i would watch the sky darkening
through her windows
and in the morning -
eat her toast and drink her coffee
leave her your phone number
on an old napkin

some nights i slept
on things you should've said
like an old mattress
useless and indented
with the shape of the people
we should have been;
on those nights,
i do not know where you went -
but i can only imagine
it was somewhere loud and ugly
a place that i would've hated
with lights on the windows
or no windows at all -

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Old 11-06-2012, 11:21 AM   #287
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Patience
Written by: Nardis

In the wind a red leaf hangs
Then flutters to the ground.
It crumbles underneath my feet
With a muffled crackling sound.
It echoes through the pale moonlight
In which the evening bathes
And taking pause to look around
I dream of my escape.

The seconds arduously fade
To minutes, to hours, to agonizing days
And far below the autumn moon
For peace, I lay in wait.
She says, with a mournful sigh
“Your patience is misplaced.”
But still I stand upon my pride
'Til twilight turns the night to day.
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Old 11-14-2012, 05:15 PM   #288
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the surgeon
Written by: #1 synth

i set a patient aside
for experimentation,
like a needle
sewing through the pages of a bible,
wild imagination wild
constellations to shine a spotlight in between;
a pinhole picture, a holy man doused in fire...

and then there i am shuddering
on the floor of a white walled memory
wondering where the pigment got off to

soon, too soon,
great goodness in the heart on the surgeons bedside table
barely able to recognize the quickening eyelashes of its old master
rising soul like a creek over a body that has given up prematurely

surely,
those who deserve to one day live purely,
live again until they do

surely,
no good person dies without the staple of the cross
and no bad person dies without the promise of truth
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Old 11-20-2012, 06:24 PM   #289
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the ANTHEM
Written by: vintage x metal

i left to find to find the cosmos in a steaming cup of tea
and stitched the scented diction into patchwork reveries -
you etched a blindly followed smile into the life you would confide in
only fostered in the shadows of the spaces in your sleeves
... i know i'm lying when i say it isn't me,
a secret you hold safely when you wake up from a scream
a name you only murmur as a crumpled memory
(i burned off all your edges when we walked into the sea).

but I am a magician and you are forever muse
and I've gained a million lovers from the one I had to lose.
**** you, **** your face, I will tear it into pieces
& eat off all the flesh; praise apollo, praise jesus.
even though you sit deflated in the throne of your own castle
you've equipped me with the tools to find the beauty in an asshole -
so run, my little minion, you are now forever knighted
as the shit I first got high off, and for that I am delighted.
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Old 11-27-2012, 02:43 AM   #290
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metamorphoo
Written by: rushmore

oh,
all the big
trees/
no snow no
sleet no
sleeves,
that which
accompanies the
growth of
me(
bearded in
wander.
i sit,
sometimes,
other times
walk/
eyes glass'd with
another someones
thought; limbs
carrying me along,
mind tired, lazy,
dumb &
gone.
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Old 12-06-2012, 10:14 AM   #291
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I Started Writing Love Poems Again
Written by: jiminizzle

I saw an armored truck pass by my window
and a helicopter following it, tracing the street,
and I'm in a movie now,
writing to someone in particular
who could be me, who could walk outside
and feel the dead of night buzz
over the rest of the city
and forget that I ever forgot you.
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Old 12-10-2012, 11:08 AM   #292
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Leaving The Observation Room
Written by: seventh_angel

Leaving the Observation Room,
enveloping my arm around hers
(a premonition to a crown of flowers)
looking at the line of lights
as they persuade
the tears to drip back behind my eyes.
She wouldn’t handle if I cried.
I could tell by the way her feeble elder hands
grabbed my sleeve with the most youthful strength.
She knew,
from the denouncing silence,
from the hurried gait
to the most isolated corner
where our bodies winced,
failing to remain straight,
she knew
she had just said goodbye
to her companion through life.

“There’s a turmoil of memories and I grasp none.”
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Old 12-18-2012, 10:32 AM   #293
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(luke)mia
Written by: doubtfulsalmon

run with me brother,
for one last time we'll hunt together.
it's been too long to say (i love you)
but i regret every yesterday,
and forget the way our lines frayed
as we stayed at arteries length,
and strayed still further.
now i'll write our hunt together.
sometime, as we aged,
our vessels gave in to high water
(rupture)
plasma drained all the cause i could muster,
and i was too afraid to paddle through:
i couldn't drown myself to pass air onto you.
tonight, my friend that doesn't matter;
we'll hunt together,
and tear at the cancer.
until your anaemic blood is mine.
until our veins can flow into our teeth
(cracking the marrow in lymphatic release).
so my heart might metastasise
and fight your transience with permanent peace.
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Old 01-02-2013, 11:10 AM   #294
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The Playwrights Last Melodrama
Written by: Eccer

Welcome!
To our grand
30 years of music/drama
Masquerade ball!
Guests shall stay in the gallery
Where you may eat, drink and dance
For all is yours today
The author
May very well be one of you tonight! =)
Keep a watch, and he might surprise you
Have a wonderful evening


Drink thus all of your champagne
For tonight's a game
In which you will change
Wear thee mask
And be wary
The peering eyes
If your secrets are to be
Now, let up
And look around
See who's that lurking about

In shadows
The writer revelates
His last memoirs
Of quills
Whispering in the loom
And where walls breached
The sheets flew
Across the ballroom
High above with
"Almost
Silvery like appearances
In the moonlight
"

Listen
For theirs
Behold clues amidst pages
Of hidden truth
Learn doth
His masquerade and
Witness
A mass before a
Giant passion play

"Focus..
The picture of dreams lies beneath
An obsession..
"
...and
None where like this
One particular fellow
I guess he stared to long
So focused he kept on
Revealing his love

That's when I realized
What the music told me
While champagne
Havocked within
Intertwined and introspective
"Conscience awakened
So they say
"

He was
Laughing at the fountain
Perfectly blending
Amongst the crowd
A pretty cover indeed
What a fine evening it was
Until
I stabbed him
A hundred times
Perhaps a little bit less
It felt like.....nothing
Though
It was good anyways

And as cliché as ever
I
Made the fountain red that night
Like he did
That
time
When I found my family
Hanging
Bled dry by their open arteries
Their paint upon the curtains
Forever portraying
His love for smashing red
Mediocre melodramas
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Old 01-10-2013, 09:43 AM   #295
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deltitnu
Written by: Final

replace my organs with
circuits and wires;
the bipolarity of a manic depressive:
droll and garish yet weathered.
an automaton lavished with emotion,
confused as to a purpose,
portraying that of a human.
"the world seems a better place
when i'm not about."
- multiple system failure;
power down,
power down,
power dow..
po..

__________________
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Old 01-15-2013, 01:53 PM   #296
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Ssss
Written by: Do Re Mi

Several separate sets of steps;
a million each
A guilt-ridden, empty thing
in between

Fake interest horrifies, it makes me love you less
But I'm just a failure who's an animal at best

If there's something that I've learned from living in the states
It's to always be afraid and ashamed

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Old 01-21-2013, 01:33 PM   #297
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5 a.m.
Written by: unicornicopia

Isn't it funny
the way that a time of day knows me better than you
ever did?

How I can tell the hushed nearly-dawn silence
things that I couldn't say to just anyone
without them looking at me like I was crazy.
Or even if they didn't,
I'd still be immutable.

Sure, you may know my favourite colours
you may have even painted them on your bedroom walls
but you don't know the exact moment I fell in love,
or the exact moment I realized you'd fallen

out

like 5 a.m. does.

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Old 01-29-2013, 02:24 PM   #298
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to feel small
Written by: jaybearch

perspective:
to dream & then
blink

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Old 02-05-2013, 12:45 PM   #299
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Two Trenches
Written by: stellar_legs

I've been the cause of some tumultuous times -
Feeling fine.
But I never got my Nuremberg,
I don't mind.
I'll ride the pine.

A pretty sight for Friday boys to see:
****ed, nosey, bigger than a tree.
Blonde hair, choked, too much fighting through a screen,
Somehow that's all on me?
Hazy days are coming back again.
I'm only happy in my way-back-when's,
But I'll eat dirt and lick cement
until I'm full or told "there's so much more than this."
Wasted riffs and tiffs and spiffs,
spent rent, good god how disingenuous.

Your rap sheets cute.
A tiny thing that can't handle booze.
Now you want to square off with the
surface filth that's just about half-eaten you?
Well it's on.

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Old 02-18-2013, 01:35 PM   #300
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What's Good Nyuggah?!?!
Written by: Bleed Away

Redundant virtues for the modern-day merchants,
a postponed dynasty
or an end to a bloodline,
perhaps not the one you had in mind...

Tomorrow brought nothing;
this epiphany belongs only to me,
let this please whom it will.

Another lot.
Another soul to be sold.
Another eye bearing a love lost.
Another life mutilated in the sight of God.

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