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 Sep 8 Moo
Jill
Round and baby smooth
Before the heavy lessons
Now more gold than globe

Earned geography
Topography in bruises
Ridged in blue and black

Fault lines and canyons
Shining yellow Kevlar-filled
Stronger in the cracks

But this recent dent
is a gut-aching crater
that wobbled my world

So, I wait for healing gold
And grow stronger from repair
Kintsugi is a Japanese art that involves repairing broken pottery with gold, making the brokenness part of the beauty of the object.
 Sep 8 Moo
Frances Raeburn
You look
at me
like
I should
have met
you
yesterday
or
at least
a little bit
earlier
than today,
 Sep 8 Moo
Flower
If I'm a bit more agreeable;
If I'm a little nicer;
Maybe you'll like me more?

If I'm submissive
If I'm patient
If I bite my tongue
Maybe it'll be enough?
 Sep 7 Moo
Left Foot Poet
I've been aware
for many a year,
but cut off by him,
for crimes he accuses
for crimes undisclosed,
his silence is wider than
the great oceans,
with no means of passage.
till one day a word,
his brother uses a word
that makes no pretense,
that shocks, stuns, and
force!admits me to a reality,
I, knew but couldn't admit

schizophrenic.

here I am sundered speechless;
as a new form of sadness now
internally prevails, and I am
even more quiet than usual,
contemplative, they call it,
but
I recognize sad/mad in every one
of its manifold disguises, and wonder
just how much, own ingenious genes,
the paucityof my impoverished down~
bringing brought, bought, caught,
contributed to this loss, this onus,
this cross that has no answer to the
                                   *only question that matters,
                                     how much,
                                     am I the guilty party
                                                           ­              the disaster father
You took away my wealth
I gave you my all

My house,  my clothes
I didn't stall

You beat me , kicked me
Bad names you called

I just bowed my head
and no replied to all

You imprisoned me chained me
I made it my home

You took away my food and water
I fasted to bone

Every lash of pain inflicted
I turned it into another verse of song

The water is the symbol
of the world's evil sea

We are submerged in helplessness but emerge innocent and free
When a man is a short distance away from his wife his messages are short .
The greater the distance the longer the messages .
.
So are the prayers of man to God .
Drifting in the shade
of Hello Poetry's long lost grave
In archive (a kingdom's history)
the past that has been made

Stepping on the bleached out bones
The pale parade of long dead dreams

Crunching fragments of sentenced themes
burning books , poems stuffed inside the reams

Epitaphs to their honor
2010 comments to poets
Vickey , Fix , and O'Connor

Poems to praise lost in time
I hold in hand the words that bind

Great poems whose eyes
were never shed
In a broken aspiration
now lay dead

Cruch , crunch ,
the landscape littered in 2012
Oh what sacred feelings
not forthwith

Here ! lay my poems
to rest here
In 2014 my poems
of yesteryear
We all have it
or at least I think we do
That ache or sorrow of heart
When in moments all alone
we sit sometimes on the edge of the bed for hours
Each breath slow and easy
as that hollow ache swallows the whole heart

I wonder if it comes from God letting us know what it feels like to be rejected by the people we love

When Jesus was 12 he attended the Passover festivals in Jerusalem with his parents . After the holiday was over everyone packed up and left only concerned about their destination . About half way home his parents realized he was not there and made a hasty retreat back to Jerusalem . They found him in the Temple teaching the priest .

Sometimes we get caught up in our destination and forget what we are missing .
"Why were you searching for me ? Did you not know I must be in my father's house ?"

Maybe that hollow ache is the missing presence of our Father's house inside .

Maybe going somewhere without is going nowhere at all .


https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=hjvKcuQdMbw&si=grgF8Cs1-z6MS5MZ
Time! Time! Time !
The great eraser of me

Watch ! . . .  as I pace  
this cage of days
that is leeching me

I was the fool . . .
nothing was ever going to
placate me

Just look around !
The walls are bare
There are boxes of pictures
that will never get their chance to stare

Huh !
Time . . . the great eraser
of me


https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=l2cXXdCIClI&si=gmIFFxqNLcJUS1Bk
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