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7 88%
red
1 13%
Voters: 8.
#1
Vote for the best PAIR of poems.


In Mind (Based on a poem by Denise Levertov)

There's in my mind a boy
Youthfully exuberant, clinging to
A faded flag and
Slogan change. He jingles
Seventeen cents and his freedom,
A spirit toiling, racing, shaking
But he has no sense of
What is real and
What is false.


And there's a
Man with crackling fingers,
Prestige and pride in his
Surgeon hands.
His wizened mind is thinking
And his eyes swim calmly grey
But he sets in thickest concrete
His yearning passion for
Faded youth.


She Sells Sea Shells

She tried to paint me in primary
but I still came out black and whiter
than the marble that she's made of.
She's next to me, blistering
from twisting on medicine caps
of bottles that were empty all along,
grinning and grinding the teeth
that she was born into.
I dug out a hole for her.
More than she'd ever do for me,
but less than I would do for myself.
It was perfect in dimension like
the skin that she has stretched
so that she'll never bare her bones.
Marked, maimed, and deemed
extra unordinary, I caught her
masquerading as a trainwreck,
and have to admit that even I
had to look twice. I think
that she's exactly
what I need.



Reflections on Refracting.

Is it possible that you hate yourself,
have to,
only to counteract how much you’re loved?
Tears! Melt-in-your-mouth and musical,
run into your rum;
a mug held between teeth, between breaths,
between you and me
--We! Are ambulance hitchhikers in this Robocop world.
I put the id in coincidence.
The pit in epithet
so kiss my class, simple-bodied believer
and wipe away the chalk-outline lies.

But back to that place, it’s happenings:
Tragedy is quite the bartender.


"The Doctor Will See You Now."

Half aware of the wheelchairs and needles that they keep back in their closets and breadboxes and what all those noise machines that they keep under lock and key do. Beatbeat beatbeat. Think tank moving what’s true from what to misconstrue for safety’s sake. Tip top chair, smooth wood, no ants’ll get in there. Ceiling the right height. Good light, not too glad or mad, just dimming and sleepy. Badum badum. Good rain outside, blue enough to take someone back to good times the other year kissing and hide and seeking and drowning in blue. Lightning, one, two, three, four, thunder, or is it that other way around. Great drums coming in like my ears were radio antennas. Badum badum, days of it on end, a mispretend bomb scare. Hit the dirt, hit the goddamn cleanest tile anyone has ever hit. No ants’ll get in here. A magnetized compass, eyes to the four corners at once. Six infants with all natural cheerios. Beatbeat beatbeat. For safety's sake four secretaries taking papers like mountains of water, moving eight legs each, crawling down corridors like their lives were on fire. Four sizes a second, see all, four corners, massaging wood arms tighter, checking for cracks in the porcelain room, noise machine poised. Thousands of them badum. Blow the world to shreds from it’s inside center starting point out. One, two, three, four. “The doctor will see you now.”
#5
I can't vote because one of 'em's mine, but I just wanted to say that I really liked the second blue.
I owe a ton of people critiques.

If you're one of them, please PM me.

I have trouble keeping track.
#6
bumped for more love.
Meadows
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I wont be like those jerks who dedicate their beliefs to logic and reaosn.
#7
I know this is closed but, I wanted to say the first red is one of my favorite pieces I've ever seen on this site.
#8
Er, thanks. That's very kind of you.

I can't say that I feel the same way about the piece, but still--thank you XD
I owe a ton of people critiques.

If you're one of them, please PM me.

I have trouble keeping track.