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Voters: 8.
#1
Vote for the best PAIR of poems.


July's Predator

One day you will become a woman
unmistakable by design,
moulded within the pillars of divinity-
all forming but one. Secret of the secrets;
the sapphire pavements of the wine rooms
are motionless to some degree.
You are merely caged beneath the orchard’s dew
within morality and immortality. But
do you dare stare at the broken column,
can you trail without a murmur?
Clay? The colourless wheels of satiety
between being and nakedness,
scattered. And it stoned me.


From: Unjust Treque

Walking down the slime covered road,
lost amongst the many tall buildings of
my town,
I came across a badly dressed beggar.
He was watching the passers by avidly,
muttering wistfully
to himself.

I stopped to look at the character
and as I started to turn back
to keep on walking, he gestured,
coldly, granting me permission
to approach him.

He looked at me in the eye,
from his eyes, which had a look up
in them. This brightness I couldn't
come close to describing at the time.
"I have a little traveller's box" he said
"I keep all my important possessions in it,
things I'd never want to move on without"

-He doesn't look like the type of chap that would "move on" very often-

From between the many layers of his beaten up
old clothes,
he pulled out a leather box
covered in little inscriptions, some crossed out,
others circled, and most were fading away.
"This i it" he said. "I pride myself in everything
that I have inside the box, do you want to see?"
I didn't have a chance to answer before he opened hte box.

Inside there was nothing but a knife and a few photographs,
women in the nude of course.
I asked him where he got the knife.
He didn't answer, he only stared blankly into space,
his eyes no longer bright, but old and dead.
I asked him where he had got the knife.
He looked at me,
old and dead,
dark, sinister. The look in his eyes had
vanished completely.
"I lost my heart, long ago, for reasons I care not to go into,
I wandered around the world, looking for someone,
someone to talk to and understand me. You, are the first,
you should be very proud. Your heart is worthy of my emptiness,
and my emptiness needs your heart.

I felt a sudden urge to run, to escape but the mysticism in his voice,
that croaky voice, as if it were packaged in leather, kept me stuck in the spot.



BOOBS

Under a shady oak, I see
two lovers' hands entwined,
their passion semi-precious.
Cool autumn wind stings my
swollen eyes. I stood and begged
the autumn rain to cleanse my
conscience, but it stirred up
foggy memories of summer love,
and how I could not make him dance.
I dance alone on autumn frost.

I can see us in Autumn's icy
path, vibrant and green we were
from Summer's lust. Soon, wicked
autumn air rattled in our veins, now
red with roaring fury. His veins
flowed cold and grey, like used winter
heartache. My veins ran crimson with pride.

A shattered hope comes forth within
these lovers' sullen eyes. Their summer
lust, turned autumn love, takes deathly
winter ice. Autumn, won't you guide them
like you did for me? Let their love live
through dying, like old weathered leaves.


If Life Was a Blackjack Game I Would Have My Own Movie by Now

I wish I could make this disappear.
I have a friend who says he's a magician,
I think I'll give hime a call and bring him a beer,
Ask him to do a little trick for me,
"Hello there Jack, nice to see you again."
I probably can't be here long so lets make this quick.

Marlboro reds only last,
half as long as camel straights,
I learned that tonight,
First thing I've learned in a while,
In a race with the blonde at the end of the bar,
a race against time and her red fingernails,
a race against life with each and every inhale.
I only won because she didn't know we were playing,
But God did she look beautiful doing it,
She made me want to take her upstairs,
look deep into her eyes and moan "lets burn this city down."
But the only thing that got burned was the window and the mirror.

I feel like a teenager,
trying to look tough,
with a sexual pose and a cellular phone.

The horses gallop in the streets,
Some rich boys from the suburbs get drunk on the weekends,
and play pool on the corner,
They want to be John Wayne.
Fair enough,
Because I just want to be gay.
#3
Bahahaha my piece was supposed to be Untitled, I was just fooling around with the messages
Drop another coin in the slot, and I will tell you more...
#5
This is a hard choice. B2 and R1 seem a tie, so it comes down to the other two.
They're both great, but I'll need more time to decide which one is greaterer.
On the eight day we spoke back...

let there be sound.
#7
Drop another coin in the slot, and I will tell you more...
#8
DANGIT... why does every girl I talk to end up giving me that face?



and to be honest, I didn't realize it until after I sent them to Steve anyways when I was re-looking over the pieces. I make an effort not to read them before I send them to Steve because I want to make sure I don't know who wrote what piece when I vote, so I didn't even look at hte material to know whether it matched.

Sorry chica.
#9
I wasn't really mad
Drop another coin in the slot, and I will tell you more...
#10
Red. Both pieces did more for me then their respective counterparts.
I owe a ton of people critiques.

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

I have trouble keeping track.
#12
I can't read latin.

=[
I owe a ton of people critiques.

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

I have trouble keeping track.
#14
Aww Thanks for nothing, Doc.
Drop another coin in the slot, and I will tell you more...