***A Hope, A Dream, for Reconciliation...***
Johnny Raven

This rope I’ve climbed for decades now
Has frayed from falls
From jagged rocks and
Bloodied blows of dialogue
Their firearms half-cocked
Breathing in this bile, this bog
Sinking slowly towards the
Unknown inhaling/breathing
People’s poisons I’ve lost my
Purpose, and I’ve never had a
Place I could ever deigned to
Call My Home
Beyond the veil, the hidden site
Have I once again gone mad?!
The faceless forcing wrongs
Twisting the twisted,
A manufacturing of tortured consent,
Blinded by a
Facade of Masked Wrongs passing off as a
Right - Evil gifts from the gifted
For the dead, for the fractured
Inbred screaming and screaming,
Confined in a cube of lead,
Paranoid delusions
Secretly inside am I just dead?
A walking corpse, decaying by
Days...am I lost, I’m just an
Ignorant intellectual
Pushing back the bounds of
My own Stupidity, a silent lucidity
The death of hope or stripped of
Everything, Everything, Everything
Even the hidden hand, ever so
Gently holding onto that one
Impossible fraying seems.
Too afraid to speak, when spoken
That cultivated dreams strengthened
Over the years through nightmares
And a sea of pointless pussy
Trying to force those pieces into
That missing space,
Some coming close, but never
Ever measuring up to you, my dream
Your emerald eyes, your beautiful face
Whom you brought into my fucking
Life, a dream turned nightmare as I set ablaze what we were
You wisely walked away...and left me to my dreams….

When she spoke, my heart would skip it’s beats, I’d lose
The power of the English language
I'd lose the power of fucking speech….
And now that dream
Has come again…close enough to smell, close enough to make my Hell a little cooler, the shadows brighter, the burning soothed…
And yet…and yet…I cannot even tell
My Emerald Eyed Valkyrie,
My Heart,
Has always belonged to her.
There have been other women of course,
Carnal place holders, temporary sometimes pleasant company,
But in the end…NOT My Green Eyed Valkyrie, My Heart,
My Love, the only woman who ever made me feel and after Knowing my graveyard of world shattering secrets…she still
Loved (Love's?) me…
She still loved me…can this Dream, so fragile, if spoken it could Shatter into a mist of 'could have been?'
I hold so gently this Dream of Old
Hands outstretched, crucified asphyxiation - anticipation
A Hope, A Dream, for Reconciliation...

-  Johnny Raven  ©2015  (September 16th)

This poem is about the first woman I ever fell in love with. I had never felt anything. Nothing. Happiness nor anger, nor sadness...nothing. And the day I met her something happened. The more I spent time with her and the closer we became as friends, I slowly developed emotions and began my journey on becoming a better man. She discovered some things about me after we had a long talk about what she helped pulled me out of. She save my life, but she wasn't quite 100% aware of how much danger she had put herself in by doing so. So, like an intelligent woman she left because she was not able to handle that kind of madness at that age. I hated her for years until I grew the hell up and realized that she had done the right thing. She is and shall always be the woman i hold all women i date up to. I know that isn't really fair, but lets face it. We all have checklists of what we want in a partner, mine just happens to not be a checklist but an actual person. Now all I want is to rekindle our friendship. I really screwed everything up back then and only recently she has began to communicate with me again (15 years later) So at this point, I just would like nothing more in this world than to have my once close friend back. She is and shall always be an inspiration for me on a great many subjects and character aspects. She truly is a wonderful woman.
murielle lemaire
murielle lemaire
May 28, 2014

we meet at starbucks and i can almost pretend nothing changed until i feel the distance in your voice.
i am calm and quiet. i did not expect this
yet here i am sitting in front of you as you explain how you feel (a rarity).
and you and i are alike in more ways than i realized before.

flying through the young night air
i feel alive and free and happy again.
i meet theresa j hanson. dancer, 19, long thin hair and long thin body.
she says she's heard a lot about me and i am surprised and i like her very much (or my first impression anyways) even though you told me that one time that you had sex with her and other girls would probably instinctively hate her. but i can't. she's just so nice and anyways that sex had nothing to do with me.
she gives us cantalope and me ice water.

cigar smoke.
we go out on the little apartament porch and you smoke the cheap cigar, the kind your grandfather smokes. get a red solo cup for the ashes and i found an old dirty butter knife out here. and we sit. and unexpectedly you say can we start over. and im shocked(you've suprisde me so much tonight) but so grateful and of course we can. you blow smoke rings and when you say whooo are youuu i cannot help but think of alice in wonderland and you are the smoking catepillar who asks life's hard questions and am i alice or the queen or the mad hatter or lewis carroll

coming back.
we reinact a a scene as if we just met and i kiss you as if it's the first time and that is how you will remember me and my lips are cold and your mouth is full of smoke and the kiss is fire and ice it's a wonder we did not steam. something so you'll remember me{i will never forget} and i guess we'll figure out on the way.

amanda muller
amanda muller
May 18, 2013

i am plagued with a heavy sense
of the meaning of things
and it is too much
for me to bear.

The only thing stopping me running back to you
is the realisation that now it's a hurdles event

Feb 27

I've never known how to apologize
not even to myself- much less to God.

Amanda Jerry
Amanda Jerry
Apr 6, 2012

My dreams
don't have to occur in a frigid state,
where the wind blows across the Great Lakes and straight through me.

would rather be warm and happy
than cold
and admired

a reconciliation took
Elizabeth Squires

a reconciliation took
place to-day which gave cause
for two hearts to be so gay
they'd quarreled
over an umbrage  
that had divided
their happy cage

with the flying of a dove's flag
their disputation
didn't for long drag
kissing and making up
came into play
that ended
their spat's foray

in both
of their minds they
knew that love's chime
needed repair
of its broken bell
neither party
could ever bear

tonight they'll sleep
with their souls
once again
such is the
restorative power
of caring and listening

Amanda Goodness
Amanda Goodness
Aug 6, 2013      Aug 6, 2013

Confession time,
Where's my priest?
When I was little I had it all planned out.
"In the name of the father and of the son and of the holy spirit, Amen.
It has been six months since my last confession and these are my sins."
I fought with my family.
I swore.
And I lied.
That is what I said for seven years.
I loved to throw a wrench in the machine.
When I was fourteen I added in a little tid bit to my routine.
"I am gay".
It was the longest pause I had ever heard.
And then it went completely ignored.
How rude of me to try and provoke you, father.

SOME may have blamed you that you took away
The verses that could move them on the day
When, the ears being deafened, the sight of the eyes blind
With lightning, you went from me, and I could find
Nothing to make a song about but kings,
Helmets, and swords, and half-forgotten things
That were like memories of you -- but now
We'll out, for the world lives as long ago;
And while we're in our laughing, weeping fit,
Hurl helmets, crowns, and swords into the pit.
But, dear, cling close to me; since you were gone,
My barren thoughts have chilled me to the bone.

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