Crash Into Me

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Contributor: Brooke Banister

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I’ve been running from you, but now I want to sink into you.
Trap me in your clutches,
Surround me with my madness.
Like hugging the killer-
Not giving up but joining in.
Engulf me old frenemy,
Shrivel up my normality.
Fading into nothing, drowning in my nonsense,
Get lost in your poison
Get off on my sickness.
Come here insanity,
Crash into me.

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I'm Brooke & occasionally creative genius, in my opinion, strikes, then I write. I want someone to love my poems like they would their child.


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Contributor: Russ Cope

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He's got a bullet
and a trench coat, some
figure from a pulp novel
cover, masquerading
as a real person

I expect the world around
him to go a pale shade
of grey, shadows here
and there, and a glowing
lady of cinemas to dip
low in his arms

but all he does is order
a bagel.

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Russ Cope is a writer from West Virginia. He's been in food service, janitorial service, and many other jobs. His poems have appeared on Poetry Super Highway.


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Contributor: Vivian Belford

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Hush tones and sleazy acts
Vague tells and phony tales
Fusty notes and musty jokes
Taunt me with grave doubts

Foreplays on death row
Funny talk and no dates
Submerged in mixed signs
Sadly, no strings attached

Pretense and distance
Tough sights and silly fights
This love is like a smoke
Clogging my will to live

What game plays destiny
Will lies hide these truths?
Please burn this closed book
Titled, breach of trust.

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Vivian Belford is a freelance writer by day and an aspiring actor by night.
She has been writing professionally since 2013. Her Mantra: *Put on some lip gloss, pour yourself a drink, sit back and have a really good laugh!* The world is one big comedy after all! She writes from Abuja Nigeria.

Betrayed from Within

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Contributor: James Robert Rudolph

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I am a fine limbed tree classically
posing for the seasons sunlight dropping
through me like water shedding from
a mill wheel a chiaroscuro that spots the ground
like a leopard’s coat.

But beneath my bark of deep rivulets swells
a termite ball hollowing out
my woody heart as a sharp tooled whittler, Am I
to become but a dark silhouette
against a changeling sky, a betrayal
to leave me a brittle of sticks?

Or have I brought myself to this, am I my own
scourge? For I scorned my nature played my
instincts cheap a wastrel of my youth whose hull
haunts me as a scold devouring.

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James Robert Rudolph is a retired psychologist and teacher having returned to old haunts in northern New Mexico after a busy career in Minneapolis. He is attempting a resurrection of poetry and playwriting interests and finds Santa Fe a rich, if not always willing, muse. Creatively he aspires to the crafting of work that expresses honest experience in beautiful language, complex or simple, as serves the work’s purpose.

Little Bird

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Contributor: Amit Parmessur

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If you are a big perch,
I am just a little bird.

If you are real,
I have so many wild dreams.

If you are brown,
I have borrowed rainbow colours.

If you know many songs,
I am yet to learn singing.

If your flowers are always pink
I like all that’s blue.

If your leaves love suicide
my feathers hatch fidelity.

If you are a swing
I’d love to swing a lifetime

and let the big gust
blow on, and on, and on.

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Biography: Born in 1983, Amit Parmessur has appeared in several literary magazines, including Transcendence, Ann Arbor Review, Salt, Black-Listed Magazine, Kalkion and Red Fez. He was nominated for the Pushcart Award and Best of the Web. Hailing from Mauritius he also writes in Creole.

Genius of the Mad

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Contributor: Richard Schnap

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There are stars
Only few can see
For they wander far
From familiar skies

And there are seas
Only few can sail
For they follow winds
To uncharted shores

And there are seeds
Only few can sow
For they covet earth
With exotic soil

And there are souls
Only few can know
For they invent ways
To speculate too

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Richard Schnap is a poet, songwriter and collagist living in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. His poems have most recently appeared locally, nationally and overseas in a variety of print and online publications.

Honey Poem

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Contributor: Brooke Banister

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When you’re near thoughts dribble down my chin, like honey
It’s a sticky situation, too sweet for a girl like me,
this feeling is distracting.
Would I be pinned a lustful trader? would it be known by every stranger?

With delightful things, unpleasant ones seem so bearable… your loveliness outweighs my silly foolish bothers.
but as expected, sitting honey starts to itch. I can’t sit still with such an urge setting fire to my skin-
Setting fire to my lips,
Spreading quickly to my hips,
Such temptation should be quenched, please pour honey on my hips
Please, Would you? Could you?
…punish me with a kiss

I’m sure you’ve heard that honey never dates,
time is on our side my sweet.
Remaining ageless, your stream of honey flows and
Honey, I promise you are my forever friend.
Honey, you see it streaming? Streaming thickly through my lips
I wish you could dabble your tasty kisses, down past my sticky chin.
Find my pot of honey,
a jar with one name but two meanings (now lost)
And surely then, you’ll win.

You won, you stole my pot of honey
you gobbled up my thick liquid gold, took a dollop of my youth
You’ve left me empty, nothing sweet or golden in me..
Like a busy bee searching for precious pollen, I am making something out of barely nothing.
Never again will I give my full supply, it sinks to quickly when laid on top of such a lie

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I'm Brooke & occasionally creative genius, in my opinion, strikes, then I write. I want someone to love my poems like they would their child.

The Persistent Wolf

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Contributor: Ginny S. Gillikin

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Beautiful wolf,
Furry gray creature,
Oh how I admire you.
Your stunning grace,
Magnificent and lithe physique
Permit you to run through the wilderness,
The spirit of your ancestors
Is instilled in you.
Those long-lost relatives
Paved the way for your kind,
Though your future may be in jeopardy.
But you persevere,
Using your instincts and intelligence
To escape those who pursue you.
You appear carefree,
Behaving as though you will live forever.
Your agile wanderings
Amaze anyone who is fortunate enough to
Glimpse that sight.
You glance around,
Alert but not afraid.
Then you saunter back to your den,
Curiously looking back once more.
Inside, your growing pups awaken.
They crawl and jump,
Frolicking in the dark.
Another generation has survived…

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I have a journalism degree and an English minor from Virginia Tech in Blacksburg, VA. I write for my personal enjoyment and have written for publication in NC and VA. I enjoy music, books, photography, travel and museums.

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