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 May 2017 Vale Luna
Richard Grahn
Once upon a time
In the land of merry lines
A sad song was born
Oh, the woes of procreation.
Maybe I didn't always listen to what you had to say
Because             r    
                        e   n
                     d        e
                   n            a
                u                 t
                                      h
                   It
                          all
                                
I could hear your cries for help
I want to walk in the sun
Hand in hand in mountain terrain
See the light sparkle from the lakes
I want to kiss in the moonlight  
Dance freely in the rain
 May 2017 Vale Luna
Ryan Holden
Keep me inside your purse,
On a Polaroid, For better or for worse,
Darlin' I asked for your heart
I'm sick of being lonely in dark,
In this cellar im trying to find
Why, is our love so blind,
When it's only you on my mind.

Loving can heal and repair your soul,
Loving is the one thing that I know,
It burns so bright,
Please stay another night
Easy baby take my hand,
Whilst we spiral we stand,
Chest on chest we take deep breaths
Spinning with our silhouettes.

These pictures are memories
that are painted within,
your heart and this empty
bottle of gin
match the love drunk moments,
whilst you're with him.

You know it can be hard
People make it sometimes,
Our eyes are always closing
But love will never be broken,
Time will stop still,
As long as you keep me
On that Polaroid picture,
Inside your purse to remember
We were meant to be together,
Forever.
A love song I wrote about lost love.
 May 2017 Vale Luna
Richard Grahn
Living with magic
Is a lasting condition
Can you imagine?
For those who believe in the magic of imagination.== imagicnation
My bleeding here like this -
May it never stop until I have
Taken my very last breath.
And in that last breath may I
Somehow take up my pen
Thrusting it into my chest once again
To make way for the release of that last
Phrase which still anchors itself so
****** deep in my soul.

Oh, to feel it finally ooze from me
Leaving me void of its painful control.
Of which I both love it and I hate it too.
Its double edged influence like God
Himself on the one side giving me hope
While the devil is on the other,
The destroyer of all that I ever hoped.
Oh dear Lord - is not my pen like
A multi-cartridge-d vessel containing
More than just one color?

At times to be blue
When the pain of life draws out that color.
Spilling all my tears
To anyone within my reach.
At other times my pen writes a crimson red,
Letting go of all the love that is in me.
Then to click it yet again to find the black
Darkness that also lives somewhere in my soul.
But there is another color, isn’t there Lord?

Yes, one so silky white in color
That when I write in on this page
No one can ever see it.
That is, no one but you Lord.
So if I leave a white page
With my last dying breath
Perhaps you’ll understand that it’s
Just another note from me to you.

Pulling my pen from my bleeding heart
While taking the last breath I shall write to you:

With the tidings of my fate squarely in your hands oh Lord,
My bleeding has not quite yet stopped.
Here you are to come to administer
Whatever consolation of thy affection
That thy Love has for me.
Dear Lord, receiveth my parting breath
And close my eyes within your blessings.
And when I reawaken let me find myself
Somewhere in the midst of your framework.

Thou hast undoubtedly numbered all of my tears
And placed them in a bottle for safe keeping.
Dear God, thou has always been the framework
For all these words that I bleed upon these pages.
They were all my fancy embracing my feeble knees
Hoping to raise my eyes to bid me into your comfort.
They are all my own blessings like the child within my heart.
Never more so than when I am bleeding here like this
In these words – only then do I feel your principles
Ever present within me.

So take me Lord when my bleeding has stopped
And please don’t be alarmed if even then
My soul dips its finger into my own crimson jell
And one last time with that finger I write

In the name of Love……
Isn't the feeling that I try to express in this piece the same feeling that any and all writers try to express? We reach inside of ourselves looking to release the good, the bad and the ugly. How well we accomplish our task sometimes is made evident by just one person who can relate to the experience expressed. Isn't that the desire to write in the first place? I think so.
Sometimes I wonder if the worlds gone mad
Have I gone mad?
Nothing seems the same
Is that valid reason to complain?
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