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Can you remember who you were?
Before?
Who you could have been now?
Can you imagine the voices,
The ones in your head,
Going away?

Do you wish the colors dimmed
And faded out like the miserable happiness,
Bleached out of your yesterdays?

Do you cry and mourn
In bursts of silence,
When the voices are back?

I know they change you,
They capture your mind
And throw havoc everywhere!
Driving you through stars
While darkening your sight.

The days can't be closer apart,
Nights can't be brighter.
People can't leave faster,
Cz you're only waiting
To drive them away.

They're only waiting
To drive them away.

**Yes, they're the same voices
In my head too...
I wrote this a while ago, when I needed someone to tell me I don't need to be by myself.
Today the most precious person in my life told me, "Don't suffer alone". It helped me more than he will ever know.
If you relate to these words, I'd like you to know you don't need to either.
 Oct 2017 Jane Marie Cooper
Guden
I killed a bee today,
It reminded me of a classmate
Lost years ago.
I saw him leave with a smile,
A car ate his chest.
As mine
Killed a bee.
That's the problem with motorcycles
On the road;
In a car
Nobody notices,
Dragonflies,
Fireflies,
Regular flies,
Some misfortune cats
Tired of having so many lives.
I wiped a bee off my jacket,
Like I change the channel.
To me, acceptance is the utmost humility.
Perched upon an unstable stone,
that made its home in shallow water
is a kind of woman who does exist.
The early morning brings mist
that settles around this daughter
who always ends up alone.

The brook murmurs softly to her
she places her palm on the surface
ripples form as the tension breaks.
And then the water takes
her hand down with purpose
to see how much she can endure.

Though this brook runs shallow
and its waters are calm and gentle
there is still a problem that remains.
Around her neck are heavy chains
and to stay upright is a struggle,
her hand slid as if drenched in tallow.

Her screams are her own to keep
as she disrupts the shallow water
rock shifting, body falling.
The chains' weight is appalling
crushing the will of this daughter
and in the shallows she drowned deep.
© Tatiana
The warm autumn breeze
         scatters the leaves
     like spring  snowflakes
      I carefully hand stack
        them each by color,
              one by one,
           as if they were
          befallen dreams
                     or
      similarly unholdable
               gathered
      garnered memories
                      •
        each leaf touched
             reminds me
       of how many times
          I've had to let go ―
         how many times  
                I've fallen
     without a place to land
   until the winds of change
         drew me back up
               as if I were
   evanescent autumn leaves,
      to be swept away again,
         touched by the spirit
             the true nature
                  of  love
                      • •        
        sown seeds of one love
           bestrewn hopefully,
             thusly cast about
              just as intended,  
   the grain and chaff together,
     sifted by the velvet breath
        of the samsara wind's
              sanguine touch

                     •  •  •
            

  autumn waters ... October 29, 2017
Post script:

Samsara: The eternal cycle of birth, suffering, death, and rebirth

1. ( in Buddhism) the process of coming into existence as a differentiated, mortal creature.
2. (in Hinduism) the endless series of births, deaths, and rebirths to which all beings are subject.
Citations:  Collins English Dictionary – Complete and Unabridged, 12th Edition 2014. S.v. "samsara."

Hand Stacked Leaves
Written by:  h.a. rivers
If you looked into my eyes
You wouldn’t have asked any questions
It’s clear my soul is dying…

Yet you decided to play the game
You rolled the dice
A lucky thirteen appeared

We laughed and continued on our way
I had no clue how it happened
You didn’t bother to question

God is a curious complex
Sometimes I wonder:
Did she send you to me
Or me to you?

What difference does it make?

The end was the harder part
When you decided to quit
That finished it for me

My soul kissed the end of the barrel
I waltzed with Mr. Death, himself

When I arrived here
I saw a crow doing the heel-toe!
still be on my feat*

oh Joni you showed up at my door once more, Saturday morn,
blonde bangs and ***** voice, two octaves below shrill,
right about where the register intersection of
heart piercing, me humming, memory smiling,
poetry inspiring, yeah memories crying, that too

together, we have had more than many,
one case of you, a million sips, and I am writing
to see *how you're feeling
and to let you know
I never drank a case of you that left me,
being still, left me standing on my feat

my feat?

drank de-feat like it was the sea, boundless but not soundless,
sweet waves repeating, sea tears tinged with bittersweet cries of
Tupelo honey,
cause you were one of my angels,
lifting me higher when love was saying
not!
this time kid,
place, babe, not this peculiar particular apparition,  
wrong rendition,
and at last, finally, long time later, sheepishly, sweetly only,
what was her name

your voice stood me up, your words still slap my face with
cases of kisses upon my neck, tune-turning prophetic notions of
what's next still  be only just around the corner,
waiting on a new, simple twist of feat,
another song, poem, lover, and yet another,
case of you, so we can always see both sides,
and when I think of you Joni
my mind seesaws,
and I, still be on my feet, and thanks to you
ready for my feat

<•>
10:59am 10/28/17
I run away from chaos-
Lock myself in the tiny bathroom.
I make sure he is fast asleep
Before I hide in my safe zone.
In this small space, I feel a mansion.
I weep gently remembering the horrors I have been through that noone knows yet,
I weep gently until peace dawns within me
And comforts my soul saying everything will be ok..
I make promises to myself to never be small.
It's ironic I do this while I'm locked in a tiny space..
I won't let anyone tame me.
I am the queen of my own castle,
I can swell
I can shrink
But I shall never perish in vain.
 Oct 2017 Jane Marie Cooper
Dani
She was night when I met her.

The hills beyond bathed in moonlight,
though she seemed to hide from faint starshine
sheltered and hidden: wrapped in a mystery cloak
woven from fibrous shadows and dyed
in the deepest part of the ocean with midnight hues
untouched by the constellations.

She was summer aurora soon after her night.

I took her hand into the dewy field,
we reveled in the damp and softened earth
and the stars blossomed: points of bursting light
fixed among the twilit blue-greens
like the blinking bulbs of fireflies
who floated between our heads.

She was daybreak after her sky turned aquamarine.

The stars hid themselves under our feet,
the sun appeared on our horizon
and painted our faces in pinks and oranges: her hand
so soft and gentle, slipped from mine
trailing warmth against the flesh of my palm
where her fingertips kissed my skin.

She was high morning when the sky’s pinks faded.

I cradled her face between my two hands,
pressed kindnesses into her cheeks
and turned our noses to the sunshine: her celestial smile
played notes on her lips,
singing lilting aria in a rising melody
as the light radiated warmth across her face.

But now she is a rainbow in refracted afternoon.

She gleams in every color now her cloak is shed,
red in heart, orange in grin, yellow in mind,
green in energy, blue in veins, violet in spirit: but most of all
she is soft pink, pale white, and baby blue,
a harmony of hues
which she had kept hidden under her cloak of night.
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