Summer's End

Brisk breezily eases, "Keep calm and cool."
A leaf facing pleas is fated a frightened fool.
Contemplation convinces conviction's choices,
Surreptitious influence surrounds wispy voices.

Where's a leaf in the chaos of this world?
Converting light until brown, withered, and furled?
A life cycle's use, exhausted photosynthetic.
A leaf's demise drops drearily pathetic.

Grow gleefully gorgeous, oh mother tree,
Your colors matured attached longevity.
Mid-life changes, Green, Yellow. Red...
Fate's feathery fall toward carpets of dead.

Brisk breathes breezy weary wisdom:
"Scatter soon. Collect. Compost to come."
Winds flow. Gails blow. Hurricanes throw.
Soon leaves to dust, soon soil to grow.

Ignorant leaves will toss asunder.
Fragile lives hold on with wonder.
A fall's start lies lurking 'round the bend.
Between big brown trunks at summer's end.

Today's a warm one to bask in the sun.
Keep calm and cool when the day is done.

Lee F

You introduced me to doomsday,
on a Haigh person's bed.
And with cards, missiles, and nukes.
We decimated the dead.

Is Mr. Lee a mystery?
Playing the bugle on a machine?
An unreserved man in the reserve.
Semi-jobless like me and living a dream.

Someday we'll be ridiculously rich.
Because of the TAIL of a girl named Stella.
Her story of mermaids will be epic.
And vaguely similar to a girl named Bella.

Tridents of truth.
Mermen uncouth.
Powers presiding.
Kingdoms colliding.

There're murmurs from mers,
of antarctic angry centaurs.
They'll fight, but don't stop it.
Because in strife: there's profit!

Megan Haigh and Maggie Hotchkiss

Maggie Hotchkiss and Megan Haigh,
some might call them the terrible twosome.
If you learn the tale of these family friends.
You'll see their story's a tad gruesome.

Move on, move on, artist, comedian.
Get a sense of what sets them apart.
Heaping helpings of hilarity getting Haigh.
And joyous jewels of beauty @Maggsart .

They are kind.
They are strong.
Holding parties
that last long.

Pools and games.
Never the same.
Never be bored.
Always on board.

Who to thank? Or who to blame?
For the day we met playing war games.

Marley B

A vignette for you Ms. Bennett is
a contrast to the norm. It's stark.
It's a sad story with strife mentality.
This poem's nothing short of dark.

Let's see, I met you while at potluck drunk.
But sadly, I couldn't remember your name.
Then you brought up a dead dog story,
so recollection to a fetching game.

Yet, I didn't remember and you gave me grief.
All I knew was that nameless association.
And even with a reggae star references,
my memory still faced disassociation.

As I got to know you, we learned what we have in common.
Even mentioning this in writing feel like something bold.
The stories we create are hushed,
because society deems them "best left untold."

My story compiled 2014-2015

As an engineer inventing something, I feel constantly lost. When I quit my job in summer 2014, I had a rough idea of what I wanted to do. Rough. And, a little over a year later, my plans are still rough. Every day, I am wading through a murky mess of non-clarity, but I wouldn't have it any other way. I just purchased 3 MIDI connectors because I need a way of interfacing my Arduino to a digital musical input, and despite understanding what I just said, I still feel like I don't know what I'm doing.

But that makes sense, you gotta keep striving before you start thriving.

That all being said, I vastly prefer my current state of affairs to my old job. I hold a different type of stress now. Namely, I don't need to worry about planes falling out of the sky (a steady, but powerful stress). My day to day stress now is trying to figure out daily accomplishable tasks. And even though I am overwhelmed, and feel clueless, I have learned so much toward being a roboticist.

I fail all the time, but with help from the people around me, will persevere. My poem from May talks about the very subject of my ambition. http://www.tweakunique.com/failure/

Chemical Cooperation (Eric Partridge)

CHEMICAL COOPERATION

What effects are monetarily in?

Whose affects are humanitarian?Is what just is, justice?Capitalist or philanthropist?Let's learn from a chemist.

What if we had a shared chem database?
Free to any in our shared earthly place.
A chemical for that!
And synthesis for this!
Would be easy as a flick of the wrist.
If only we could search our tablets,
and stop sacrificing little lab rats...

Currently, chemical companies horde their knowledge.
Scientists sworn to secrecy immediately post-college.
They find information for a profiteer's race,
instead of sharing that light with the human race.

On Creeps

Women everywhere, we're just ignorant. I consider myself very epathic, but in order to relate to something you need to experience it a bit. I was never approached by a woman until one interrupted and questioned what I was writing at a fish fry place in Scotland at age 26. Ironically, the purpose of the poem was to bolster my self-confidence after I learned the girl I was dating "technically had a boyfriend." Any way, being approached was annoying, but I was flattered. Only after experiencing 'the other side' was I able to gain perspective. It's really hard to want to be friendly to strangers, I find it's much easier to complement older women on dresses, jewelry, and what have you, because of implicit motives with younger ones. When I'm older though, that won't be the case. Long story short, I hope this small story makes men less ignorant, and women understanding that some of those guys just want to be friendly. I hear women complement one another all the time, and it is a beautiful thing. #heforshe

Spiral

Where do I begin?
What a classic start.
A far-cry of my life.
My spirit's torn apart.

An acrid smell of diesel.
Improperly emissioned fumes.
Stuck in this train seat.
Memories haunt my gloom.

Where can I escape?
Reminders crawl and teem.
It's a living nightmare...
of love's potential gleam.

This god-dammed crap.
I fucking hate this shit.
Yet again I want just blackness.
Memories untimely rip.

Depression is, in my eyes:
preference of the solitary naught.
Because the tears dry in my sockets
with no more pleasure sought.

Seeking a lover's embrace
has been a constant journey.
And when I found her, I was blind.
Intimacy ignorance only hurt me.

Then I faced my condition.
Too many pathways through my brain.
And although my reception's clear.
So are methods inflicting pain.

I couldn't sleep while lying.
And didn't care to eat.
But I functioned exceptionally.
Always up and on the beat.

But things didn't make sense.
Reality was a choice.
My mind was somehow somewhere.
With a very active voice.

I fell, I spiraled through chaos.
But I didn't know I was falling.
False epiphany's and revelation.
Denial of the doctors' calling.

And then I was "healed."
With a new drug in my blood.
Complicating the cocktail.
Muddled murky dirty mud.

I hate my altered self.
I hate that I feed it.
I hate the pills I take.
Knowing that I need it.

Liz W

I was asleep before we met,
lying at a frozen yogurt place.
And stumbling awake,
I took your embrace.

You actually deceived me,
feigning ignorance toward clouds.
Some people are that dumb,
you looked gleeful and proud.

"You seriously find me serious!?"
That changed everything forever.
You surprised me, and stunned me!
Loose the goof, all the better.

Sledge hammer that car!
A wedding ring at the bar?
Marathon running and running so far.

Such activities and activity seldom see ladies...
I'm actually a misogynist, Liz, OBEY ME!

Yeah fucking right, even if I were an asshole,
you wouldn't take that shit. I'd be spun, punched,
and dropped with a kick. Because Elizabeth Waldbridge
is a bad ass in boots. Or flip flops or shoes.
Or what ever footwear she CHOOSES to choose.

Should women be these angels of estrogen?
What nonsense is spouted by pig-headed men!
She's a panther, a hawk, a lion, a viper.
Be cool and beware, and don't dare go and fight her.

Teens know everything?
They don't know shit.
So pull out your books,
and study this lit.

She'll teach you English,
then knock some god-dammed sense in you.
Just do it, relinquish!
She's the best for you.

Learn your god-dammed lesson.
Take your fucking test!
Did I not already say?
SHE IS THE BEST.

When they sound that bell,
enter her heaven, her hell.

Maybe you'll fly,
but you might get burned.
Any and all credit
will be given if earned.

Alan W

What an experience it is,
to be beaten by the police.
Or any aggressive group
violating the peace.

Granted, with the cops,
you can't strike back.
Ideally they won't inflict
a lethal attack.

Sensei, you taught me the basics
of a ready position.
Elbows closed, arms straight,
a centered condition.

What you learned from Calasanz,
you've briefed me on too.
May we never have need for:
Weng Chun Kung Fu.

Clinth L

I was giving my dirty feet a necessary scrub. Then I heard a familiar voice while sitting in the tub. It was Josh, "Hey, I need to pee." He's my brother's roommate, "Come in," I said' "feel free!" I looked away during the duration of the sprinkling, then looked up after zipper sounds post-tinkling. "Wow, I don't know you!" I said to not-Josh, not-Josh said, "Yeah, I also don't know you." We chuckled, we were insta-buds. I shook your hands and cleaned them with my extra soapy suds. I was feeling totally beat, and shortly thereafter, fell asleep. At like 3 you awoke me as you looked for your jacket, I felt pissed at your face, and wanted to smack it. But then you were gone, away, disappeared. And I groggily wandered to the kitchen I peered. Oh. My. God. So much Mexican food, I ate with my fingers, it was totally rude. Later I would learn you brought it, dude. We met in the bathroom of a midsummer's night, and would see each other again in the flashy with the bright.

Fireworks. Fireballs. Fire breath. FIRE. Paper hot-air balloons. Partying, drinking, dancing, and tunes. We were in Queens for the forth of July. That actor ran from his arrest, remember why? And when the cop-car slowed next to me? My heart was stuck between thrill and glee!

How about the trapeze girls on the fire-escape? Upside-down kissing? My mouth was agape. These two were voraciously swapping spit, not laughing at death, but seduced by it. Their shirts were off, our beers were toasting, and the crowds flocked for stories a boasting.

Later, we watched the world cup together. And roared with camaraderie, the more the better.

We've hung out at other places, museums, bars, wacky times, and silly faces. But you're stoic when you need to be, a strong consistent calm to see. You don't misplace your fears or your trust when gravely dealing with what you must. You almost came to the island of Cockenoe, sailing to buried treasure and women in bIkinis. But, tragedy befell your kin and you stayed where you should have bin.

Clinth, it's always a pleasure.
Times in the sun.
Times just for fun.
Even times of sadness,
it feels like we've won.

Michael H

"May I crack your back?"

You had me at crack.

Feelings: hypnotic.

And homoerotic.

Wrap yourself around me

And I'll gasp and whimper.

Joint fluids are freed.

Now more the limber!

I can't help myself.

I feel dumb and startled.

Your hands massage upon me.

I loudly hum and gargle.

Later, I'll try your scotch.

Two fingers? How about three?

We'll play harp and guitar.

As I hear you close to me.

We may not be jedis.

But, you're an archangel, Mike.

I'm a saint, and I can see

your wingless, flightless, fight.

Coulter G

"Dude you gotta just roll with it"
You speak with softness and calm.
And I keep on plucking, bit by bit.
Focus on the strings hover by my palms.

I always scoot by Koffee to say hello.
And there you wave, or strike a pose.

Maybe we'll be rockin in your backyard
jammin on breezing hammocks never feels hard.
A porch, a garden, a giant bird feeder.
"Dude, you won't get scorched,
I'm a safe fire breather"

ha ha ha ha

I see you on your bike
with rhythm in your feet
even wheels can't help but dance
to your looping beat beat.