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 Jul 2017 Aniron
JC
The Sins of Time
 Jul 2017 Aniron
JC
(03/05/09

How long before the day ends,
and night begins,
do we begin to see it coming,
and think about days ending,
and forget to enjoy the time we have,
to dwell as deeply inside it as we can?
Wasted hours thinking about might be’s and could be's
and what might have been's,
as "now" and "are" pass by,
gone forever.
Whole years now gone in a sad pool
of despair and wishes,
never to return or be seen again,
a sin of worthless regrets and tears,
committed against one's life,
we did it to ourselves,
in the end,
while placing all the blame somewhere else,
on someone else,
and all the time it was inside us all.
Never looking back was a creed, a religion,
or so we said,
as we lived with the dead,
and never looked up from the ground.
I wonder at the stars and suns we never saw,
or rainbows..
all of them around us,
as much ours as anyone else's,
but refused and unopened gifts for most,
because we walked in shadows of our own making.
I wonder at the lateness of the hour,
and the day,
and the year,
I wonder... can I step into my now,
and leave what used to be behind?
Is the door closed to what might be,
like it is for might have been?
I hope not,
as night falls once again,
and dreams come of a life not lived,
and the world turns anyway.
JC 2009
 Jul 2017 Aniron
Zachary William
we rely on poetry
in the same way
we relied on parables
to better explain the
universe within
our collective souls
the poet sleeps
and they appear
images so wondrous
as to bring a tear
they take his soul
and slow his heart
they fill his nights
with beauty apart
from all he knows
in his awakened state
and then they vanish
into the great
mystic

he awakens to his prosaic day
bits remain of what he cannot say
my most beautiful words
are dreamed away
Quick note: At some point I had written on a piece of scrap paper 'He is resolved to say his most beautiful words are dreamed away.' I found it today as I was packing to move and actually threw it out without reading. I was going back to get a sippy cup lid I had also tossed but later found the mate and decided to read what was on the piece of paper when I spotted it. I wasn't even sure if I had written it or read it, so I googled the phrase and didn't find it. I had also edited out two words at the beginning of the phrase which solidified it to me. The mystic was speaking to me
a little borrowing from Van Morrison 'Into the Mystic'
https://youtu.be/CEvsDuJYEnI
 Jul 2017 Aniron
Bianca Reyes
I had coffee at my lips
And good intentions with you

You had passion as fingertips
And a slow withering heart

I'm falling in love with you
Life is setting the punchline
Copyright under Bianca Reyes
All rights reserved
Blah blah blah
Enjoy
 Jul 2017 Aniron
Melissa S
Some days I want to be a wild horse
or a gypsy wild and free
Don't put any fence around me
Who would want to tame this
Heart of wild
I just want to be somewhere
Anywhere just not confined

Other days I want to build a house
Build me a home
Build my life around my kids and spouse
Sometimes I can follow the direction of the reins
Even if they do feel like chains
I want to give my all
I am just so scared to answer the call

It seems I want to have my cake
and to eat it too
Its like I have double lives  ~ What am I to do
I want my freedom and I want his time
Cannot divulge all the darkness in my mind
There is beauty in imperfection
and order in the unruliness
I am a walking contradiction
Yes I'm somewhat of a mess
Words rhythm and movement are what I live for
and I can sometimes give up the control
I do what feels right to me
Cause there's a gypsy living in my soul
 Jul 2017 Aniron
Lora Lee
Lay me down
      in those fields  
         of silken flowers
        where the buzzing
        over our heads
       whirls us into
   lightspun holy
my dress a metaphor
for loneliness
as you lift it off
and let it disintegrate
into the evening's
electric ether
your lips
    undoing the tight
       leather laces
        that have held my
     heart in place
until now
Now.
undo them
   in unfurled totality
let my feminine essence
drip, in non-verbal words
onto your fingers
let my elements
   light you up
    from within
firebrand sunset
in molten metallic sheen
indigo lip of ocean
melding into crackling
            hiss of earth
               and humming
                   under this
                dark rich loam
              tiny vibrating buds
     sprout from fossils
trilobites become
hazy with new moss
seething insects
lay eggs and spawn
feeling the bloodpulse,
that simmer of surface
in slick magnet energy
Curled stems of wild
poppies and zinnia
tie down my wrists
snake around my thighs
clasp my
tender-***** ankles
as if to open me
up even more
than I thought
            my soul
                   could go
and I do not resist
for soon they will
accompany you
as you decorate my
deepest womb
              with blossoms          
filling me with your
soul's seed
your musk-scented fervor
nestled, subaqueous
into the root of
my sweet
       deep
of  
  need
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qU8UfYdKHvs
This song. Just says it.
i.

wildness of white,
uncanny strangeness,
calm sea...melting
moon of mahogany.

ii.

silver dish of the sky,
lost kingdoms,
the lonely isles of
the sky...

iii.

the moon like
monet-marble,

see the moon rise
like a secret flower
of summer buds.

iv.

as if the sky mirrored
the reflection of the
lake, full to the brim
until each falls into
the other, sky of lake,
lake of sky, gathered.
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