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$15,000 in debt
15,000 people
15,000 poems

deconstruction

February 5th, 2013 § Poem #23 § 3 comments § permalink

 

My mouth is dry

it tastes horrible and it is glued shut

i cannot stop yawning

and every time I do

my bleeding eyes lubricate themselves just a little bit more

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strangers

February 4th, 2013 § Poem #22 § 0 comments § permalink

 

writing to strangers

mysterious friends of friends

exposing little bits of myself into thin air

handing over slivers of my past, my desires

my idiosyncrasies

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selflessness (to the angry artist in the basement)

February 3rd, 2013 § Poem #21 § 0 comments § permalink

 

What is our obligation in this life?

 

Are we inherently selfish?

 

Do we instinctively need to help others?

 

Is there not one path for all humanity?

 

Is our species that divided?

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not taught in school

February 2nd, 2013 § Poem #20 § 0 comments § permalink

 

We are taught a lot in school

growing-up

history, numbers, logic

Up to two decades of

problem solving

exams

goals

yet here I am

at thirty-four

and cannot remember learning

how to move past heartbreak.

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laundromat

February 1st, 2013 § Poem #19 § 0 comments § permalink

Silence under a fluorescent glare

Undisturbed noise

languages bellowed

over the groans of the

mechanical servants

paid mere quarters for daily laborings

Anonymous within a town of thousands

Tucked in the corner

on chairs deserving respect

after a lifetime of offerings

Admiring the simplicity of our lives

All different breeds; All different branches

and yet always tending to

basic rituals of existence

all the same

 

 

-  af

 

(written with pen on paper)

window dancer

January 31st, 2013 § Poem #18 § 2 comments § permalink

 

there is a dancer on my window

she is stretched long, powerful within the glass

laid out

a splash of cleanliness

among the dirt of the window

 

she has sprinkled fairy-dust pollen on my windowsill

and now I am defenseless

in trying to clean, eventually, this canvas

 

so, for now

she will

dance

a few days more

 

 

- af

 

 

 

 

(composed on typewriter)

garlic bullets

January 30th, 2013 § Poem #17 § 2 comments § permalink

 

Often

one finds themselves ill-prepared

for a counter-attack to an onslaught

of an army of vampires;

Silver bullets are too expensive

Stakes break, splinter the hands

and open wounds do not aid a successful defense

Is there anything left sacred in today’s holy water?

Which leaves garlic…lethal, but not very practical.

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