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 May 2014 Alethea
Poetic T
I have thrown words to the wind
Like pollen, I wished they would fall
On a fertile page and slowly grow.
Some may fall short and just be a
Moment then gone.

Those words that have blown in
The wind, and landed on paper
Nurtured from seedling, They have
Grown fruit of sentences, as the
They become ripe the words flow.

Like seedling of just  words they
Have been etched to a page, grown
To what is now seen today, what
You read now is that which was
Once just a word now a sentence
And more what once was in the
Wind now grown.
 May 2014 Alethea
AS
Colors
 May 2014 Alethea
AS
No colors in this life,
everything's just black and white.
It's dark or it's light
am I right?
No red,no pink,
there's just black ink.
Gray eyes,
no feelings in it.
It's a hell ride,
go and win it.
Hey,blue,
where are you?
Don't hide green,
don't be mean.
Come up yellow,
I love you.
Show yourself orange,
don't be cruel.
I want colors,
I'm sick of the rules.
Get me a violet,
and you'll get a clue.
A clue that will lead you,
to my heart blue.
#black #and #white #sick #of #rules #get #me #some #colors #bring #life #back
 May 2014 Alethea
Geno Cattouse
I strive quite often to write away from my narrow existence to dismiss the woe is me and will she ever see how much I love her plea.

So much more to know and see. Histories mysteries things that pass beneath my feet unseen yet hold great import.

Things that pass above and around me silently but for me striving to hear and see to ponder and unravel in reverie. Not just all about me and me.

I would bore myself to insanity to just keep looking inward always inward with thickened lenses.

My salvation from self pity and confusion is to bear as little self delusion and fling my mind open to the wonders past and present...the future is vast and limitless.

My god is nameless and will so remain because I am far too feeble to look at it's glory and with feeble audacity give it name.

To write away from is as easy/natural as blinking.
To write away is my salvation.

I am less than nothing in the scheme.
I am as loved as the sun that shines the roaring tide the rivers wide the wayward wind the global spin so massive yet unfelt.

I write away from me for my sanity to do otherwise  is like pulling lint from my navel while the stars twinkle a million years away and beckon.

I write away,above, below, over under and through. I hope we all can do so too

PEACE
Was so fragile-
She could be cut by callused palms.
Could be bruised-
With the stroke of her makeup brush.
Lays so sound-
She could wake up to the car door slamming in the garage.

She is so thin-
Light shines not just through her eyes-
But through her chest, hips, lips, and-
No warmth is transferred through her kiss.

She breaks like hardened mud.
You could sink into her like quicksand.
Her body, is built like a storm.

You can watch the blood in her veins-
Meet your fingers at the surface-
You can still see what you have drawn in the morning-
If you can even crawl out of bed to crack the blinds.

She likes thunderstorms.
She likes the smell of dirt.
Her eyes were gray-
And her tongue is stuck to the roof of her mouth.

She can dance in the sun-
clumsily-
And still be the most beautiful thing you have ever seen.

She could sing-
Off key-
But her emotion is what makes those notes gold.

She lays like stone.
She moves like running glass fast forwarded.
Her voice is thunder-
And her eyes are the winter.

She lays hands on you-
Only to heal.
She can mend you-
as easy as bending a wire coat hanger.

Her skeleton is like flint-
How it sparks against mine.
Her body is so fragile-
A word could hurt her.
and a stick or stone-
would certainly **** her.
 May 2014 Alethea
mark john junor
the cold dirt road on  the mountain
its holes filled with ***** rainwater
a broken fence to one side
marking the edge of her farm
the trees obscure any distance
just patches of meadows and dark wood
the summer song of birds gone to roost
she walks alone hands buried in her pockets
she was born on this mountain
she will be an old woman here someday

a ****** of crows feast loudly
on some dead thing in the tall grass
of the bright haze of the meadow
untouched by breeze and soaked in sun
they gather at the overhang of a dead oak
where beer cans and spent bullets lay
like corpse's of a battlefield lament
the burnt shell of the oak
leans dangerously against the field stone
covered with graffiti
she would wait for him here
the ****** of crows gave way to silence
watching

her father was a good man in his way
lean and quiet with a dark look
but as her father goes to show
one man in his family's arms another in the world
the nature of a man changes when he
steps out his door
few know a man
sometimes none

she is a rare beauty small town girl
but as much as she dreams of the wider world
hard fact taught her nothing like home
the nature of the world changes when you
step out your door
few will care about you
sometimes none
she was born to the mountain
she is going to be an old woman here
few know the heart of a woman
sometimes none
(not what you think its about...but a cautionary tale never the less)
 May 2014 Alethea
دema flutter
Those days,
in the mornings,
I stay longer in bed.

Just gazing ,at the ceiling,
Trying to , forget
Those nights.
;I'm unable to dream.

Just over thinking,
to the point,  I fail to
silence my thoughts,
and
my eyelids are denying sleep.

Those times,
I feel
extraneously not exisiting,
I stand still , watching everything,
fall into place, nor fall apart
unaware* that time is still going,
and I'm just s t u c k.

in; This world,
I have gone underestimated.
Told I should go in others' path.

That my faith isn't good enough,
that I am too weak, too weak,                                                     @DemaaMu
that for my own sake,
I should listen, to their commands.

But I can never go any other way than the path I am destined to go on .

So I just lay in bed;
sick of pretending, someone I am not,
sick of people changing my identity,        

And in this life, in this world in those times in those days and nights,
I have gone, **unknown.
 May 2014 Alethea
Donald Berwaldt
You make me smile…

When I hear you
When I see you
When I'm with you
When I kiss you

When you kiss me
When you miss me
When you're with me
When you lift me

When we're texting
When we're talking
When we're biking
When we're walking

When we're going
When we're staying
When we're moving
When we're laying

When you smile
When we smile
That's when I smile

            …all the while.
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