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to breathe without pausing
to breathe in the air with
time to spare
time to fly
time to move
while breathing
not stopping
but pursuing
dreams
pursuing
a life
beyond gravity
beyond here
beyond now.
there's a song singing
in the trees
a worry
growing in the shadow.

they can feel it,
the trees,
they know.

know not what's
to come, but what's
been become.

it's becoming
right now
as our eyes blink
in doubt, in ignorance.

they blink,
not faster,
but more often than not.

setting aside
increments of
lost time.

there's nowhere
to run, except
through time that's
already been happened.

what's done is done.

tears fall beneath
heads on pillows that
know not why they cry.

loneliness is suffocating,
don't you know?
you're not alone
while you're with only you.

truth cuts, but a
wound relieves
pressure.

roots of the trees
tunnel a base of
security for the trunk...

while we expect
verdance upon
concrete...

growth upon faltering grounds.
I want to be lost
in the overwhelming
& invigorating truth
that my life has been
and is extremely so,
in that moment,
bountiful.

Lost is wrong,
I meant consumed.
Those feel like opposites.
Maybe I did, after all,
mean lost...

I want to be lost in it,
meaning that my next move
takes me not to familiar ground,
but to unturned stones
and verdant paths.

I want to be  lost
in the certainty that God
has planned my next step --
not planned, but intended
and secured it...
mistake-less.

I want to walk out my door
and when I jump
I want the wind
to carry me to places --
nooks and horizons between
where I've never been
and what I could
only ever imagine.

I just want to be
certain in that my
untouched experiences bloom
and that I loose my way
enough to uncover
truth --

and at that reality --
and maybe some dreams
as well.
The Night before Christmas of the Living Dead

‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all down the street
Came a howling of wind and a lashing of sleet
The stockings were hung by the 50 inch plasma
And parents were snoring like bulldogs with asthma

The children were nestled in cosy wee places
With smug little grins on their villainous faces
Their mum in her nightie and I in my skin
Were of Christmassy spirit, specifically Gin

When out in the garden, a moaning was heard
I sprang to my feet without breathing a word
To the curtains I leapt like a naturist ninja
As spry as a horse with an **** full of ginger

And what did I spy as I peeped through the crack?
No jolly fat Santa or magical sack
It was as I had feared but had always expected
The zombies were here and St. Nick was infected!

His sled, with a frenzy of giblets, was smitten
And was pulled by a mob of the people he’d bitten
He threatened and jabbed them to get them to run
And struck at their heads with the **** of his gun

“Now Arnie, now Johnny, Now Barrak Obama
On Oprah, on Beckham and on Dalai Lama
On half of Madonna and Samuel L. Jackson
And run for your lives at the sound of the claxon”

The sled rose aloft dragging corpses behind
Like a wedding day prank from a murderous mind
And with more than a hint of the melodramatic
An almighty crash rattled down from the attic

Still dressed, as it were, in my birthday attire
Some pants and a chainsaw, my only desire
I crept on my tippy-toes, ever so soft
And I heard a grim sound from the stairs to the loft

I searched for a weapon and first to my hand
Was a porcelain Goofy from Disney land
I ran from the bedroom to battle my foe
I turned to the stairs, but now where did he go?

When a breath on my neck made me shiver and freeze
And a trickle of ***** advanced to my knees
I came to my senses and spun on the spot
And before me pulsating with maggots and rot

There stood zombie Santa, he drooled as he leered
His eyes filled with hunger and blood in his beard
I screamed and I bolted, I ran down the stairs
I bounced and I bounded and leapt them in pairs

I rounded the corner and flung back the door
I flicked on the light but could journey no more
The windows were gone and in every direction
Were lurching the victims of zombie infection

They lunged and they nibbled and ripped me apart
They tore out my liver and chewed on my heart
Like tinsel, my entrails hung on the tree
My kidneys were baubles and under it, me

And while they made meals of my pieces of mind
Upstairs there was gore of a similar kind
The missus was mangled and minced in her sleep
And Santa selected the pieces he’d keep

The children still snoozed with not even a groan
The zombies sensed evil, and left them alone
Now their job was completed they hastened away
To the attic they galloped to rev up the sleigh

With a scrape and a grind and a clatter of slate
They took to the air to continue their spate
And the voice of St. Nick could be heard from the sky
“Merry Christmas to all and to all……

DIE!”
 Jun 2013 Michael W Noland
echo
If you ever kissed me
I would ask you to open your eyes
I would like you to see me clearly
To know the face you'd compromise

Without a second thought
Your lips would brand me yours
And, smoldering & burning
My nerve endings would blaze and burn

Your eyes would be warm fire
and melt Emotion's gold
sweetly dipped in my desire
sweetly icing, bracing cold

And gold is softly melted
I would melt into your arms
and in a timeless statuette
we would be ONE -
[Don't you know?]

It's hard to separate
           Siamese Hearts


- and one may be left bleeding
...
tears for premature promises
made without Wisdom's say
holding on to a future, while striving
to take back yesterday

- 08.06.2013 -
 Jun 2013 Michael W Noland
echo
I feel like a little bird
Fallen from the nest
Dishevelled, feathers dusty
Feebly crying :
    will you care for me?

I feel like a little commotion
Begging from you sympathy
And your slightest attention
Pitiably trying :
    will you quiet me?

I don’t even want you
to lift me off the floor
Just simply
    *hold me close, please

Just say –
                 “I am here.”
honestly- all i can tell you is that all day i felt like a little bird -.-
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