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 May 2018 alwaystrying
Thomas EG
I've got your scent stuck in my head
And my lips crave yours
White chocolate burns, but you,
You melt me
Red, yellow, red, yellow
Hello?
Can you hear me?
I’m down here...
6 feet under...
Not where I’m suppose to be
You come and visit me
Everyday
I hear you constantly pray
To talk to me again
Hold my hand
Hug me tight
Well I’m right here
I hear everything you say
I cry with you
I laugh with you
I pray with you
I am always with you
Even from 6 feet under
I AM HERE
I pray myself
To heal your pain
Dry your eyes
Help you move on
Don’t forget me
You know where I am
Always in your heart
Forever your friend
I will continue to grow old with you
Until we meet again
When we walk together in the sky
Holding each others hands
For now I stay
6 feet underground
Loving you
Praying with you
Hearing your voice
As I lay in silence
6 feet underground...
Wrote this from the perspective of a person who has passed away and what they see and feel everyday....
 May 2018 alwaystrying
kim
we met and exchanged hellos,
this was in school,
where we were both awkward,
and both kept secrets from each other

we know each other better now,
but there were still secrets between us,
truth or dare was our solution,
"who made you realise you liked girls?"

i never thought of it,
so i brushed it off
said it was a conversation,
for another day

it's been six months,
i've come to terms with who i am,
you guys know that,
"who made you realise you liked girls?"

you,
the answer is you.
you,
it's always been you.
This isn't very poem-like, but I wanted to share it

(Based on my real life experience)
Children are a blessing to the wise, an expense to the foolish
To the future a rightful bride, and a groom to the truest

A vanguard to places never seen, soil never stepped on
Speakers of things never heard of, and doers of deeds beyond timid belief

Strong for the sake of our remembrance, they toil to retain our essence
Even long after we are gone, our breath remains with their presence

O future son! And my future daughter!
I will devote my very existence to your being,
My every move and thought to your feelings
Though I cannot see you, I imagine you wholly complete
From head to feet
A shadow along my path, and a support to my gait
I wait in patience, anxious at your arrival I remain.
hours have circled by in hope of seeing you approach-
to first notice your eyes exchanged in anticipating trance
when world stops: ends in a centrifugal flight into galaxy's arms
gravity giving up its intimacy for an arrow's push of this heart
into limitless space, unfold, attest a perfect conjunction

endearments will speed across our dance stepped stars
today, tomorrow
wearing chameleon skin hues that beckon a touch to solidity

now's concrete lot: sprouting weeds, grime, flat plastic bottle; denies parking
waiting for the sixty-seven north among phone-hands, averted faces
older wrinkles, tired limbs filling street cloths in rush hour's stupor
hurtling towards The Spiral Tavern to meet absent friends
who's beers foam happy condolences to current regrets and sorrow

a bus transfer lies deep within a pocket, there beleaguers ride home
empty stools, tables, rackety riot music playing exponentially
into tin-tapping ears and restless mind full of arresting alarms
talk becomes pennies on the dollar, prose runs off a cliff
time revolves around pleasantries walking towards the exit

Where are you now ...?

-cec
Too soon the hours of mine will be over
there's still light, to love and beauty I must surrender
I'd like to slip quietly away from Life;
Peacefully in my sleep would be best,
that's for sure.

No doctor pounding on my lifeless chest;
demanding of me an unwanted encore.

I seek no grand Finale.
I require no clamoring crowds.

No, for me, just a bare and empty stage,
with one less spear carrier among the  dramatist personae.
One not remembered once you turn the page.
An Actor files his DNR
Me: “Father, I think I would like to pray my own way.”
Priest: “Ha okay (sarcasm), whatever you say, Brian.”
(Priest continues about in ignorance of commentary)
Priest (beginning Vespers): “O God, come to my assistance…”
Me: (beginning Vespers) "O ****, here we go again..."
(Grudgingly submits)
I have always wanted to be different in spirituality, but when I have to coordinate myself to meditate like everyone else, I feel "un-special" (if that makes sense...again, not trying to offend, thought).
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