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 Oct 2014 Adam Childs
Gage Kelso
She dyed her hair dark
To match her young heart, once red
Like the scars that cover her arms
The lies in her head
Come apart when she cries
Every word from her mouth is a beautiful lie
Look into her eyes
They're screaming suicide
But somewhere inside's a girl who doesn't want to die
Every creation

And it's creativity

Lies inside

We only can see
It's performance

We actually cannot see
What's really in a
Creature

The soul
No one knows

Where it is?
Exactly

But everyone
Knows
Somewhere inside
Us
We live in an advanced technological
Society
Still no one can Spot our soul

But we I mean an individual can
Find his own
If he tries
 Oct 2014 Adam Childs
LA Brown
He saw...
an over made-up clown, eyes caked in shadow, lips redder than reality, cheeks on fire.

She was...
hiding the pain of her appearance, trying to look like the "norm", feeling hideous and needing a mask.

He heard...
her voice shrill and loud, her attitudes obtrusive, her opinions waivering with the crowd.

She was...
desperate to be noticed, drowning in self-doubt, craving reassurance, acceptance.

He felt...
she was cold and callous, harsh with her words, dark and unloving.

She was...
hurt to the point of no return, a soul full of love with no one to love, no one to trust.

He left.

She was already gone.
 Oct 2014 Adam Childs
Sjr1000
My year of Burning Man
began
with butterfly wings
flapping out on the playa
in a high desert black
moonless sky
speeding up the relentless winds
just enough for me
to hear it call my name
and
make this change
where life
becomes a vast array
of
giant machines
Las Vegas style
in this black rock desert.

I have lived among in my days
of sustained isolation
before the people came
to construct this
city of lights
and community
where we all belong
and participate
in this life art project
free from the rules
that restrict us
as the giant sweat lodge
of the desert
alters our consciousness
frees us.

In my year of Burning Man
the relentless winds
blows the mundane into the insane
and
before entering that last gate
I kiss myself goodbye
knowing
I'll never see myself again.

My  time
becomes an art project
and the very nature of reality
heaves and sighs
like Pyramid Lake,
the spiritual center of the Paiute people,
which you pass on by
on your way to Burning Man skies,
my internal waters
turn over,
as does the Lake
as the top goes to the bottom
the bottom to the top
and the creative residue
which had drifted
on down
begins to arise anew.

In my year of the Burning Man
I never have to go to the circus
the circus is me
a universe inside
a universe tall
a universe wide
at Burning Man
nothing is small.

The costumes come alive
behind thousands of eyes
the lights in the desert come alive
while the thumping bass
shakes
rattles you inside.

It's a masked costume party
where the masks don't hide
but reveal all that you are inside,
inside out.

My revolution comes
in a tanker truck
of gasoline
on a Saturday summer-fall
night
and my flames
climb
a thousand feet high
into
the Black Rock
desert sky
in unity
one cosmic cry.

The dust's breath
sticks to everything,
every one
every masked body.

In my days
in my Burning Man year
my eyes are now
perpetually wide and amazed
within this vastness
that for this moment
and all my days
from my birth
to my death
that
I have been alive.
"Burning Man" is an annual festival held out in the Northern Nevada desert.  It started with 500 people and now about 50,000 go. A living art project for a week and  people construct giant structures of various types, but the scale, big,  machines that throw cars.
Easy to look up.
Has quite a philosophy.
 Oct 2014 Adam Childs
bones
She's an alphabet artist
she paints in words,

from a palette of adjectives,
nouns and verbs,

the landscape she finds
in the folds of her mind

she exhibits in volumes of verse.
 Oct 2014 Adam Childs
Rupal
Silence
 Oct 2014 Adam Childs
Rupal
Silence is not keeping quiet
because you have nothing
to say...

Silence is having a lot
to say but no desire
to speak...
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