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Old 12-11-2016, 02:52 PM View Post #571 (Link)
Julian (Offline)
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Shivers like stiletto stampedes,
sea-slit these lands into shores,
with soil eroding from saltwater,
the same saltwater that coats
my skin with new skin, until i
am ready to be dissolved
into metropolitan neon, this sea
of crowds, in which i undulate
with regret. Here, religious candles
sizzle into death. No liberation
movements can undo this pain,
no compensation done through guilt
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Old 12-15-2016, 03:15 PM View Post #572 (Link)
Julian (Offline)
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Manic dancer


Manic dances under the sun; there
is a name pronounced by normatives
for insufferable love--bittersweet. Lying
on this pavement that feels like a bed, the dirt
of the skin iíve learned to shape into a demon. This is
my shadow creeping, honourable lover coating
light with its own being.


Oh, how to have a lover that sticks
with you until he becomes a prosthetic limb, how
to have a lover that drinks your cum, but then no bard
exists to commemmorate him; only jaded emotions,
the stutter of when is he going to leave me; when is he going
to leave me,


sir Lover, oh, how astonishing
you have shown me my illusion of you that i wanted
you to be for a brief moment, thank you, you that i
had the pleasure to exhale into full body, so you can
be my dancer for a while!
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Old 12-29-2016, 09:53 PM View Post #573 (Link)
Julian (Offline)
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Your name lies in my heart like a symptom
of lightness. I loved you, but now I can

only say farewells. You still remain
in me. This love is hunger, and I can

only proclaim my thanks and apologies.
I only can sigh at the memories. I can

applaud at those sweet beginnings, when
you were a fruit i felt, whose taste I can’t

still unpeel, because I loved you, but I
love someone else, now, and I can’t

cry anymore because of the bittersweetness. I’m
sorry if this makes you suffer, because I can’t.

I am in love, now.
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Old 04-05-2017, 05:23 PM View Post #574 (Link)
Julian (Offline)
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Reckless dictator, you have marked down the hammer and sickle, created a deity, when I have marked the moon. Pour this milk in a soda can. You should have had what is between sons and daughters, of smoke and spark. This is the wreckage of a thousand deaths. This is corrugated Iron, the laughter of a thousand population. I am a burning canyon, the desire of a loveless farmer. Lord! I am yours forever, I cried to the tempest. I will not take a lover. I will not take a child. I will not take this paralysis for granted. We wipe fatigue off with sponges. I have to take a recorder. I have to read the news. We can never acquaint our lovers with this suffering. The dictator only laughs, deports those bodies. The sun can only reveal trespassers. What are we going to say, but smile? We cannot suspend our thoughts before revealing the dead. Corpse, can I be your friend? The pranksters might have made the virgin cry. Or it might have been by the size of his bullet. We are both sensitised and aware, but we don’t know the gravity, do we ever? And do we just float. In education, we are high-risk investments. £9k+ investments. Medusa, the stare belongs to you and you only. Not even you can undo the own curse you inflict. There is no remedy.
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Old 04-15-2017, 11:01 AM View Post #575 (Link)
Julian (Offline)
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We force those tourists to become pointers. We
have to refrain from loving our mistakes. This is
the only solution, to tear the ghettos apart. We
fight for our lives by first marking delineations. Here,
the sun and the pebble; there, the stare and throw that make
avians blind. Watch this wretched conflict. Point at
those actions. Coloured bodies don’t crack,
until a beating and a spit, blood cast from a strained
smile. Those pearly gates lead to heaven. This darkness is
deported flesh.
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Old 04-15-2017, 11:24 AM View Post #576 (Link)
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From fist to face, the carracks are on the water already. I’ve tried
To devise a miracle. I spat the foreign recluse. I scan my own crimes.
I’ve made my parents sound so silly. My desire should have been
Practical but I have terrible memory. I have the past that I constantly
Want to forget. I take these pills, because I just want to be happy. There is
Sin in that. I confess my refusal for tragedy, those dreams I will still cling
On even after desperation. Call me silly. Those are the pained expressions of
An actor. How futile. We thought better of him than to become a ghost, expected
The world out of him, but he was borne out of violence after all. No denying
The consequences of a bad childhood. The success is becoming a well-adjusted
Adult, no ambition, just the desire to exist, to cut through life
With a sickle, to sharpen the sickle free of rust. Every action will see the raw
blue of crushed sky spark up.
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Old 04-15-2017, 11:24 AM View Post #577 (Link)
Julian (Offline)
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I

The carracks are on the water already.
I’ve tried to devise a miracle. I spit the foreign recluse.
I scan my own crimes. I’ve made my parents sound so silly.
My desire should have been practical but I have terrible memory.
I have the past that I constantly want to forget. I take these pills,
because I just want to be happy. There is sin in that. I confess
my refusal for tragedy, those dreams I will still cling on even after
desperation. Call me silly. Those are the pained expressions of
an actor. How futile.

II

We thought better of him than to become a ghost,
expected the world out of him, but he was borne out of violence
after all. No denying the consequences of a bad childhood.
The success is becoming a well-adjusted
adult, no ambition, just the desire to exist, to cut through
life with a sickle, to sharpen the sickle free of rust. Every action
will see the raw blue of crushed sky spark up.
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						Last edited by Julian; 04-15-2017 at 11:27 AM.
					
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Old 04-16-2017, 12:10 PM View Post #578 (Link)
Julian (Offline)
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Send all these faggots back
to Christian boarding school. Nail those tiny
gods where they belong (or else
these scandals will know no end). The flinching
priest shouts, ‘the end of Christ.’ He is
making a storm. We have to nail them down,
have the doctors look at their sexes for signs
of mutations, their tiny penises barely
hanging like pebbles on strings. The doctor flicks them,
examines their orifices while following the strict
guidlines of the scriptures. Their
worried parents pray and vote against their futures; stickers
‘I voted for Pence’ on their chests. The faggots will
make hostels out of houses.
They think about the future;
they think about their children;
they think.
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Old 04-16-2017, 12:31 PM View Post #579 (Link)
Julian (Offline)
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When these tears become a waste of time, April
whistles in the corner. Spring has laid
its touch. ‘If I can’t have you,’ Yvonne sings. The blossoms
have blossomed and fall in love with the man with eyes
so blue they burn the sky. Goodbye, to the psychiatrist
with longing in his eyes. The East counts as the region
of most-prescribed antidepressants. I burn this cold
Siberian--this is a waste, the eternal green a glare
exchanged between dry flowers and angry wives. My
owner’s caucasian, but he is no spritely spring chicken; making
love to him is a torture. His forehead cracks, spilling blood, his
arms lock against themselves. I have given him hearts, but he keeps
rejecting them. I have built a monument of these organs, in the freezer,
another cold lover with no ambition. I think of myself as calcified,
waiting for these features to turn to rust.
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