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Crawling through the dark
Blinded by the light
Of past lives

Searching through the shadows
Finding nothing but death
And cobwebs

Running through the despair
Trapped inside by the smell
Of embers in the air

Falling through clouds of rage
Anger with no where to go
But back in the cage

Crawling through the dark
Lost, looking for the light
Of life once good

Escaping through a crack in the seam
Finally finding the key
In the middle of the night
I am painting a mural with my words,
Cameos, sublime, Turquoise,
line my blue bell filled path
To Luminescence
#micropoetry #poetry
  Sep 2014 Blackheat deShanti
Anecandu
Is this the end of something new,
Something of nothing cascading through,
Grinding like graphite brakes to cessation of interaction,
No more love, just dripping remnants of perfect attraction.
So what of the world and its distractions?

And isn’t it ironic, even platonic.
Like daily doubles, we both picked up on it.
Was it our telepathy or just in my eyes alone?
My heart leading, my mind following your spells along,
The cold metal words still ring in my ears like a Tibetan gong.

Your smile had my resistance my barriers to love disarmed,
You said you melted in my arms,
Maybe that’s why my love alone isn't enough for forever,
Forever love on repeat, despite this stormy weather,
Rain without rainbows, wow, isn’t that clever.

But can nothing be something, is that, cunning?
Why did I at that last moment suddenly feel like running?
Running from your touch that made the very earth quake?
Reversing out of your life before daybreak,
Reversing out of your life before I ......break?

Does this gaze away mean we’re done?
Eye contact, a smile, it’s over, we’re gone?
I wished driving away, that in that second I was blind
Wish I never already made love to you in my mind
Wish I could erase …………4 months a week, 2 days of…. time.

Impossible, since your more than a memory
Your etched into the trapezoidal ashlar stonework of my fantasy
With you I felt a transparency, an urgency,
We could be living off what we didn’t need to grow
Now I hold on to what I can’t give back, you love me and I .....know.
  Sep 2014 Blackheat deShanti
Anecandu
I have decided to be,
Butterfly not a bee.
No longer worried out the responsibility,
Of everyone, anyone's  expectation .
I'll start my own nation thank you.

I wont see your face in the shower head,
Nor guess what's under the lump on my bed,
Checking my phone but it was only my head.
No wearing purple because its your kingdom
Yet what to do with this new found freedom
Maybe a new hobby thank you.
Autumn is icumen in,
With all its tricks,
Its treats and whims.

I can't mourn
Summer's passing;
Those days
Of idle slumber.
Summer suns
And midnight moons,
The silhouettes of June;
Holiday highs,
Mad July;
The robust garden
Lust of August.

I won't.

Autumn air
Affronts my senses,
The Arctic cool
Dips and rules.
The moss has left
The trees;
Arthritic twigs
Let lose
The leafs.

     *Autumn is icumen in


Autumn,
With its foils
And foibles,
Rakes us in
With harlequin sins,
And all its
Wherewithal.
Embrace your fall.

     *Winter is icumen in
I borrowed "icumen in" from a 9th century anonymous poet, in a bit called, "Summer is icumen in."
if these walls speak,
they will tell of silent tears,
cried when you are at work
the heart-rending pain of a cheating partner
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