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  Aug 2016 Jay Dee
ryn
Quell the discontent
that consumes my being.
Relieve the rage
so I could
turn the page
to a whole new beginning.

Alleviate the pain
from seasons lost.
Allow new seedlings
to grow into trees...
So I could
carve fresh grains
onto the scars from yesterday's cost.

Extinguish the fires
that grow ever brazen.
Let the blaze
make way for embers that glow.
So I could
lick my wounds and still
indulge in a little piece of heaven.

Quell the love
that has brought much strife.
Ease my breaths
so the future may seem kind.
So I could
trudge on through this phase of life.
Jay Dee Aug 2016
Have you ever been so upset that you choke on your own *****? R.I.P. Jamil Baskerville Jr. Peace in paradise sweet boy. Please beware if you read his story.
Hold your kids close. And kiss them twice.
  Aug 2016 Jay Dee
Snehith Kumbla
what forests are those we pass,
blazing along the railway tracks,
a tree bloom of still cranes,
stream black of ******* bane,

stench of dead city rubble,
factories of rusted cast metal,
distant cotton twilight skies,
sun slide across a bunch of wires,    

passing tunnels echo
lonely platforms, frantic gecko,
looming hillside,
crackle dry wood fire,

a god barred in lock&key, 
blink glimpse of the sea 
one rush of vision,
pebble fling at frisson,

metal-crunch rhythm,
grind music sublime,
spark, grunt, grate,
we arrive, we dissipate...
(As experienced on a train journey undertaken in December 2014)
  Aug 2016 Jay Dee
ryn
.
A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It's the tears that trickle with radiance through words.
     It's a treasure trove that hides but longs to
     be found.
          It's a book shelved high that wants to
          be read.
               It's the freest of all birds caged but
               unbound...

A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It doesn't beat to the capable strokes of the artist.
     It doesn't pump in the most vibrant of
     colours.
          It doesn't wield a paintbrush to
          translate its thoughts.
               But it can see through the eyes of
               painters...

A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It doesn't conform to the conventional parameters of lyrics.
     It doesn't bind itself to the requirements
     of musical harmony.
          It doesn't follow the conventions of
          genres.
               But it sings its voice loud without
               restrictions of melody...

A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It's an open secret, that whispers in metaphoric codes.
     It's an exploding universe, that merges
     back into galaxies.
          It's a sought after painting, that boasts
          of unfathomable beauty.
               It's an everlasting song, that echoes
               within the poet that embodies...
.
Dedicated to all of you...

If you're reading this...
This is for you...
.
  Aug 2016 Jay Dee
SteffyWeffy
Wildflowers
Remind me of people.
Their all different, not one exactly the same.
Some are beautiful.
Some are bright.  
I love them all.
They bring me joy.
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