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 Jun 2013 jpl
SexySloth
It is dark and everything is quiet.
Like a step taken would be so soft
the sound would elude ears
and the traveller would smoothly transit
from one point to another.

The cold granite pavement is
the only thing telling me this place
exists.

My eyes are open, or are they closed?
I blink.
There is no difference.
But it is so dark I feel the black
is poring into my eyes
and covering me like
an invisible, untouchable, distinct
sort of
a thick, giant parcel of air
or space, even
that transcends my field of vision.

I am lost, but I don't feel like it.
There is some sort of freedom and peace
while walking along path I set myself.
It is just walking, simply walking
no plans made, no trails followed
simply walking.

All along the way I've walked,
I've only heard the sound of my feet in this quietness.
The faint rush of breath out my nostrils
sounds so light, almost nonexistent,
as if I've been holding my breath
or I never breathed this whole way or
even breathed at all.

Time. I've forgotten the meaning of time.
What is time?
I don't know when I started walking
but from then till now,
I don't know how much time has passed.
10 minutes? 2 hours? 1 day? 3 weeks? 1 year?
A century?
How do you know?

No matter the length I've walked,
my feet do not hurt at all.
In fact, with every contact
with the ground,
the muscles get soothed and they
sigh with pleasure
despite not knowing
when they'll ever stop
walking.

Alas! I see Eigengrau!
and slowly, the faint outline of
toys, books, mats, a telescope
come into view.
But very, very faint.
Only the very top parts
are a little bit lighter than the rest.
Enough to make out what they are, though.

My feet sense something different.
Before, they walked on
cool, hard and sure granite.
Now, they feel a soft carpet,
little furry things tingling the toes
that go easy on the soles.

Oops!

I almost tripped!
I see a plush toy of a planet, the Earth.
And starry things are sprawled all over
where my field of vision can reach.

Walking closer and closer,
a window comes into view.
shutters are white in colour, but
tucked neatly at the top.
Now light spills in
and there's a tiny figure
whose breathing I hear.
A slow, peaceful rhythm,
devoid of fatigue, stress and dread.
A being not aware of my presence.
It is-sorry-he is
a little boy, wearing blue Power Ranger pajamas,
clutching tightly to a bolster, covered slightly
by a recently-ironed blanket.

Curiosity takes over
I walk to the little boy,
slowly turns his face over...
brushes his hair off his face....
and he's-he's-

Oh  my  god

That face.

I used to see

in the mirror...



Sixty years ago.
 Jun 2013 jpl
Kimberly Brown
“Do not worry my love. You’re with me now.”
I smoothed down her tussled curls
and carried her towards my bed.
Sweat smeared the insides of my elbow
coming from the fold of her bent knees.
Again she screamed
and struggled against me
but I held her fast.

“I can’t let you go my love. You are my chosen one.”
My eyes widened with the realization
that I have finally gotten what I need
and more
was still to come.
She became still as if in shock.
Her lips pressed together in a hard line
and like child she went into herself
thinking that she would block the coming
experience
from her mind.
But there was no place for her to go,
for not even in the recesses of her mind
would I let her go.
She would feel everything
that I gave to her,
and in the end she would
thank me.

I am death,

and it was her time to leave this earth,
this was my way.

I laid her down
and her whimpering became less.
Her eyes were moist
and glistening with unshed tears.
“How beautiful you look.”
I whispered in her ears.
My lips closed around her lobe
pulling
down on the cold skin.
Could she feel my growing heat against her?
Each wrist I bound
each ankle I tied,
I will not let you get away my love.
“I want to share myself with you.”
I kissed her chin
I kissed her eyes
and warmed my hands against her *******.
She whined
I soothed her.
“Don’t cry my love. Don’t shed unnecessary tears.”
I looked her over slowly
lingering on her *******
gingerly
touching her heat,
which I could feel pulsing beneath me palm.
She wants me.
I knew she would.

Staring into her eyes
I could see the fear that
I wanted,
could she see the lust
reflected in mine?
 Jun 2013 jpl
Megan Grace
Friday
 Jun 2013 jpl
Megan Grace
I learned I cannot play
the banjo and I haven't
heard of half the movies
on your shelves, but I
like the way your
voice sounds when
you tell a funny story
and how you
absently strum your
guitar and play with
my fingers at the same
time. I could have stayed
at your house for weeks.
 Jun 2013 jpl
Marsha Singh
A poem falls short; I'd like, instead
to draw a single line from me to you
and watch it curl into a word
so beautiful it's still unsaid –
or press paper to the window pane
so that the day might saturate
a note that brightly warms your hands,
spills birdsong from imagined trees
and buzzes like fat bumblebees,
but I am bound by language, love; I can't.
 Jun 2013 jpl
hkr
when you asked me why i never wrote
i told you i forgot
but if you'd looked beneath my bed
you would have known the truth

i wrote you
i wrote you a hundred times
and another hundred
in my dreams.
but none of my letters were very friend ly.
 Jun 2013 jpl
CRH
The Last Cigarette
 Jun 2013 jpl
CRH
"It's over," you insist.
But we're not really finished yet-
Darling, you are my last cigarette...
Well, maybe just one more...
 Jun 2013 jpl
Elizabeth Squires
he cast a spell on me
that man of wizardry
he cast a spell on me

that man of wizardry
he kept a love potion up his sleeve
that man of wizardry

he kept a love potion up his sleeve
his magic was very potent
he kept a love potion up his sleeve

he magic was very potent
it attracted me like a magnet
he magic was very potent

it attracted me like a magnet
I was drawn into his proximity
it attracted me like a magnet

I was drawn into his proximity
his abracadabra wand so satiates
I was drawn into his proximity

his abracadabra wand so satiates
sublime is the sorcery he employs
his abracadabra wand so satiates

sublime is the sorcery he employs
he has me where he wants me
sublime is the sorcery he employs

he has me where he wants me
that man of wizardry
he has me where he wants me
 Jun 2013 jpl
Seán Mac Falls
Blue mountains on fire,
Magenta light falls from sky,
Quarrels of the Gods.
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