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 Jun 2018 The Lenora
Grace
I cant tell you how much the hush hush hurts,

the gaps,

[the deliberately left blanks]

the silences that make me scared of saying words out loud.


It's the switching of meanings that does it,

all the tip toe awkwardness

the swift, unconscious side steps.


It's the whole long stretch of silence,

the whole deliberate

accidental

hush hush of something I never even knew the name of.  


It's the casual,

forgettable

drops of slights

that I'm still turning

over and over.


It's a hush hush never intended to be malicious but

the quiet twists and tears

and so I can never tell you how much the hush hush hurts

because the silence keeps me hush hushed too.
Working through some things I guess. It's hard to address the hush hush when you know it wasn't malicious, just accidental or a result of a different time. I wonder if they even know about the hush hush? I wonder if they know they kept it? Anyway it's something I need to work through and poetry helps or something

Note: So we talked about the hush hush without words but it's okay, maybe it's how we do things best. And the hush hushed becomes a thing of vibrant, rainbow colours and it's lifting off my shoulders and I think in a glowing kind of way that maybe there's something in this that will be okay. And I wonder how you knew but for now it remains hush hushed because I can’t quite talk about it yet. I wear it instead, I wear my colours instead and maybe that speaks enough for the moment. (Fourteenth of September Two Thousand and Eighteen)
We live our lives doing always as taught
Following a given from birth set of rules
And only few ever do wander from there
Never activate wildest sensations like mules

Comes a time a little extra wine a stop over
During a longest flight a night time to bight
A place that you've never been in life before
Alone you thought to sleep some over night

Another passenger doing same time to blame
Says want to **** an hour or two no fun alone
Strangers but pleasant company who knows
You attend making yourself  next door at home

The whole trip  being a weary one now half way
Each knowing not of the other not that caring
A little wine with nicest things to enjoy chewing
You think time for a little time out a little sharing

Who's to tell there to enjoy not in any way dwell
Relaxation needed time to pass no explanation
Taking advantage of what could be a chance divine
What the hell could just be your wildest sensation

Proving to be as a volcano lava running ever slow
All vibrating as an earthquake poetry in motion
Allowing a stop over to be all of that and more
A time to move in the timing of swells on ocean

One's wildest sensation presenting it's self slowly
And being all you imagined it to be and even more
Still to get a good nights sleep after all said and done
A personal best stop over like waves washing the shore


terrence michael sutton
copyright 2018
 Jun 2018 The Lenora
Shanath
We used to wake with the rising sun,
Before the sky could heat up enough
To burn us with her flames.
We would stay up long after the sun died
Every night, long into the stars' play
But we were always busy looking at each other.
The moon was and has to be jealous
Of us,
We took the time we gave to her
To give to each.

Then there were the other dolls
That swung out the door.
You used to be captivated by the sea
And stars,
But I broke your trance
And with your eyes on the ground
You drifted like the smoke from cigarettes.

You were clean before,
Never had a drink,
Never smoked, never catcalled,
For the moon had you,
You were stuck in dreams
But I broke your chains
And had you freed.

Now you use me as a match
To light up your darkness,
To fulfil your hunger,
Your midnight smoking ache
On the terrace,
The filthy parking lots.
You don't care that you are burning me
And I like a fool
Crave your fingers on me
As you strike me against the sand.
Again and again
Then discard me.

I never feared being burnt,
The whole world used to hit me
On me
Like stones rubbed together
To spark fire.
I would light up and ignite
Wildfires,
But I never thought
You would bite.

I forgot that all birds in cages
Beg for the sky,
But once freed,
They all come down to litter the streets.
I freed you,
You carried me on your wings,
Made me forget the moon,
The stars.
The fact that I was a planet on my own,
And I tied myself to you
Like I was a lost moon
Surviving on gravity's pull.

You dropped me in a sky-less desert,
The horizon dancing in its own flames.
The sun and the moon collided
And the stars fell like moths
Burnt by desire.
You never did return.

But I was wrong
The world remained intact,
The clouds cried.
It was I
Blinded by the shine of your eyes.
You used to reflect the moon,
The fire of the stars years away.
I am ashes, black char,
On your wings I will be a stain.
So you shook me off
And never returned.

I only wish now
That when I lay well into the noon,
The sky will heat up enough
To evaporate me,
And I will dissolve.

You will feel me in your breath,
In the wind beneath your fake wings,
I will flow into your blood stream,
Block out your lungs,
And you will bleed through your nose,
Cough up black debris of the past.
I hope you will remember me
As the dolls you will collect
With their paper fingers
Falters to revive you.

But I will be deep in your mind,
Corroding your nerves,
Blocking veins and arteries.
And when you ask yourself
What is happening,
You will see my heart that you stole
To save yourself,
Will burst in your own cursed cage
And in your own blood
You will drown.
But God forbid I become caught in your dreams.
I always was a nightmare for men
So I will be no different for you.

Somewhere you did burn me,
I simply took it as a glow.
But you hate ashes
And I have regrets.

But this is the time
When your absence of mind
Lets the match burn your fingers,
And your clothes catch on fire.
But you, unlike the horizon,
Don't dance but wither in pain.

I will seep out through you then
And water the plants.
I will be a garden built
On your ashes.
So many thoughts
Unsaid, unwritten,
I share
And I am afraid
Of thieves,
How can I stay quiet
In this world?
I drove past the tree
that saved me many times
when I was so young
it reached it's limbs and called me in
and I would wile away the hours
watching the world move below
blind to my hiding place
I held tight as the cruel older kids
walked by
looking for me to belittle and abuse

my friend has withered in the waning years
his bold trunk now dry and hunched
his strong broad reaching arms now drooped
by his side
I'm not sure on which limb I carved my initials
or what side I buried those baseball cards
in a sandwich bag and my Dad's cigar box
he got me through those early years
my sanctuary
my protector
I catch a final glimpse in the rear view
I have to smile as it looks as if his top limb waves to me
but I know it's just the breeze
when I was a kid I spent hours climbing and hiding out in a tree just outside my backyard
Old movie stars have come and gone
Those films were there for everyone
Despite the passing of those times
Those talking pictures will always shine.

Those talking pictures have all come back
With ghosts of film stars from the past
They are still alive within our minds
Those talking pictures we rewind.

When looking at those bye gone days
Those talking pictures will always stay
The golden oldies that we all can see.
Are there and they will always be.

Those talking pictures stand the test of time
Deep within our hearts and minds
Those movie stars have come and gone
But those talking pictures will still live.
Just a simple little poem.I love the golden oldie movies
I watch alot of them.
 Jun 2018 The Lenora
Emma K
Secluded
 Jun 2018 The Lenora
Emma K
Fall
Into
Nothingness
terrified of
landing or never
touching the ground again
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