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Larry Kotch Jun 2018
Carbon is pummled for endless hours,
Chambers filled with all our might,
Cracks that erode while others soured,
Hope to press a diamond,
When the world will give us ours,
To merge and stretch and stay a while
Those sparkling, timeless hours
This Poem is about long distance love. The pressure and stress of not being near the person you love is so immensely and powerful natural force that when you do meet your lover each hour becomes that more timeless. Each of us is a mountain of forces hoping to merge for as long as possible and press those diamonds.


e.g.

Our two mountain ranges are Intertwined and trace the oldest story on the earth. Like all, we were born of magma, wind and surf, we look and feel together but seldom touch and old bodies of mortal things petrify underneath our brave and glossy faces.
Larry Kotch Jun 2018
Ash
I carved your name into trunks,
And sent you down the river in a hurry,
You were silent then, no anxious digs or hearty laughs,
We poured our hearts and you just disappeared.
Just behind the leaves and then I lost you
Though I know we had said our goodbyes,
I expected more time than smoke and rays.

And so I came back home with less family,
Though you, a child, were adopted by the kindest mother;
The paintings you had made of her,
I see them through your eyes,
I rub them as your colours fly,
When the woodland ended and meadows welcomed me back;
I saw your visions come to life.
This Poem is about nature welcoming back a loved one when you spread their ashes in a special place. In my case this was my Grandmother who was a very keen painter of the countryside. The Woodland where her ashes were spread represent the feminine and chaos from death. The carving and meadows are the link from this sad place back to the orderly world from where she painted and where I knew her.
Larry Kotch Jun 2018
Our minds, our dreams they built a noise;
The men that played with little toys;
The houses, castles of muddy boys;
Towering now they could empower all;

We scream and **** and hunt through malls;
We stamp the weeds through cracks, in awe;
Driving fast to make the trains;
It's those before that take us home;

Past the blocks of all the mighty;
Past the seas and trees that bow;
We end up back to wood and stone;
When they kick us off our thrones;

We let go of a force that needs us;
A swelling pride that really sits beneath;
We sheath our swords our pens our teachings;
Their silence cuts our crowns to pieces;
A meditation on the propensity of the contemporary human being, specifically men to march progressive values over tradition. The principle metaphor being nature, representing the timeless and much more ancient source of value and responsibilities humans should intuitively feel but seem reluctant to confront.

Thus the swelling pride actually comes from the immense pride we subconsciously have for the human project thus far, 130 000 years of basi9c human existing with its traditional family units. and its humble but established origin, not the fast paced castles and toys and malls that we think we derive values and empwerement from.

Men march through life stamping in the weeds of that ethic that goes just noticed underfoot, one human lifetime is not enough to fully appreciate the swords and books and values our ancestors developed over thousands of years so much so that we evade thinking about them completely. That silence, when we truly recognise it, when it looks us in the face when naked cuts our ambitions and glory down to peices.

Or something like that

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