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 Jan 2014 Kari
K Balachandran
1
*Gongs and drums sound rambunctious,
a wild rhythm tears the silence of the night,
a slow number first, then in quick time
racing fast,everything ends in a blast.
his self control lost, he dances like one possessed,
in the moon lit places and shadows alike.
This angst is not his alone, he feels,
as if mad at the way the world these days is.
Freedom of a special kind, it was, catharsis,
drums sounding mysterious, made life different.
                               2
Once when he and his girl were making love
deep in his veins drums rumbled,
and he couldn't but stop and listen,
she was curious,"What is this, what do you listen?"
smiling, he resumed his dance
thorough the valley and plains, like wind,
to the tune of temple drums,
his hair flying and sweat pouring  like rain,
she could catch the change of rhythm
intense love was there, in the depth of fury.

Then, they ended up panting,then lying quiet.
holding each other tight,she said;
"you are like one possessed, fantastic,"
but he had felt the presence of a third,
he felt in his bones,
a benign female presence, who is she?
                      3
The oracle holding a sword with a shining blade,
wearing a red silk turban and a white **** cloth, told:
"It's the possession of a woman, a wild spirit,
her songs and dance were snuffed out
at a young age, when it slowly emerged,
it happened at a time we don't know when,
a kindred spirit, your tumult suits her soul."
the oracle was in a trance when he opened his eyes,
"Not a curse, a blessing, symbiotic it is"
the oracle  threw a bit of holy ash on him and said:
"Well son, in you Devi, the mother goddess
is pleased, this spirit will survive,
her speakings will come out from you,
all will be just fine, being kind you received her,
so pleased and contented she is, wouldn't disturb"

They walked together, the woman without a body
to fulfill her dreams or sing her songs,
at times of loneliness the drums sound,
she comes in to his tumultuous soul, he makes her alight,
in their entwined destiney, he sings her songs, they dance.
Two flames
With equal elegance
and surrounding colors,

Wood underneath,
And posterior ashes
Which turned from the fire,

Becoming something else;
Transforming together,
With patient speed

And light that shines
To those surrounding --
Often overlooking

The beauty
Which resides
In the flames at night;

For they are not flames
At all,
But are you and I.
 Dec 2013 Kari
Sabrina DLT
Cheap Bet
 Dec 2013 Kari
Sabrina DLT
I have this whole world that I want to share.
It doesn't sound like a lullaby but
Sometimes it feels like one.
Sometimes the sun sets at the perfect time and
Dawn begins to look like a rusty image of color.
It begins to set in and dissolve.
It pix-elates and creates an overdose that
Flat-lines and shapes the figures that come my way.  
You make me shift with every move you make.
There is something about the darkness that alleviates.
Something in the way you talk that makes my breath palpitate.

There is something in the air
And its setting across our universal states.
Dust seeps down on the miles that we found
Between us, I cant settle down now that it is dawn.
I want the drunken and drugged Queen's crown.
I want everything that is wrong,
Everyone that is alone singing this lullaby song,
I want every black tear that tears from that witch's heart.
I want a dry dreary summer to settle into and forget
Every bad dream, sad song, primal love, and every instinctual cheap bet.
8th November, 2013
 Dec 2013 Kari
Sabrina DLT
You know it feels  like a silent picture show now.
I see your lips moving but the sound does not come out.
My feet feel like walking but I'm sulking in this abyss.
Oh no, Doll, you lost what you once had.
Forget what I just said about that.
Cat eyes catch you lips.
The darkest, coldest, fever glimpse.
Cross your heart and go die
Don't you touch me, do not try.
Go catch a *** and don't come home
Because there is nothing sweet about being alone.
I got a match and I got your clothes
The things I've seen no one knows.
I never said a word about you, no.
But I'm worn down, sick, and full of loopholes.
 Dec 2013 Kari
William A Poppen
Grab a handful
Of warm dirt
Hard between thumb and forefinger
So it spills out upon wrinkling toes

When dew hits the morning green
Write sorrows and joys
With a stick
In cursive on the ground

Savor grim and grit,
Grow earthy, real
And unafraid
To become unclean

Watch new growth sprout
To meet the day
Become like a child
Play as a child
I remember when game consoles were for gaming
and phones were for calling people.
So, I must inquire: what the ****?
It’s 6:08 AM
and 6 degrees Fahrenheit outside.
My window sweats on the inside and
a truck motor runs on the street for ten minutes
working to defrost its inner cargo.
The frosty hills are still dark as hell.
Somewhere hours away you’re waking up
choking for coffee and running off
moved by the efficient early metro buses,
the graying slush,
and the misty chandelier of streetlamps.
Maybe next winter you’ll be here
to coax me to put down the books
before the too-long awaited dawn.

Until then,
Good morning.
Goodnight.
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