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 Jan 2015 bryanbeee
Mercurychyld
You left me yesterday,
as many times before.
Left me as you found me;
often knocking
at your door.

When you left
I did not cry.
Found fierce pain and sorrow,
yet I did not die.

I, a lonely, broken child
filled with
fractured thoughts
and rage,
still you opened up
my book of life,
and began a
brand new page.

Desperate for a friend
who would somehow
understand,
I found in you a comrade
who took me
by the hand.

I realize now
I pushed to hard;
overwhelmed you
with my need, but,
in you I saw an image
of me,
and in my soul
grew a shameless
greed.

The years went by,
you came and went
and often disappeared,
though I knew you
weren’t quite ‘gone’,
‘cause I always
felt you near.

Then one day
you broke my heart,
as you truly left,
with no trace
or goodbye.

The space you built
within my life
would not again be
filled.

At times I remember
how you colored my life,
and I retreat to my
hidden place,
and take the time
to cry.


-by Mercurychyld
Copyright 11 Jan 2015
In memory of an old friend from long ago that burst into my life just when I needed a miracle.
 Jan 2015 bryanbeee
Mercurychyld
The rings of smoke
run circles
around you;

the air, pungent
with the bitter
stench of second
hand smoke…
cough, cough.

“I can stop,
whenever I choose!”
you say.
Right!

Tryin’ to convince,
who,
me or you?,
but,
we both know better,
don’t we?

You say, “oh, I’ll quit,
someday, you’ll see”,
but truth be told,
it’s just not meant
to be ‘cause…
there will ALWAYS be
heartbreaks,
illness,
lost jobs,
money troubles,
betrayal,
lack,
of food,
of fun,
just lack of…
something.

So, stop foolin yourself
(‘cause you’re not
foolin’ me…heard it
ALL before).

You’ll never really quit
‘cause there will
always be
SOME ****…
stressin’ you out,
leaving you needing…
to calm those
EDGY nerves,
Right?



-by Mercurychyld
Copyright 19 Jan. 15
I've known very few who have actually given up the cancer sticks. Such is that chosen life.
Gone
are the winds
that brought me
home

Gone are the days
when the bright sun
shone

Gone are
the smiles,
the joy,
the wonder

Gone are they now

Out into
the Gray-Blue
   Yonder.
Gone, smiles, wonder, joy winds home me bright
Conspiracy theories about an unsubstantial dollar, our true freedom of speech covered over by the blanket of power.
Fill their pockets with the blood stained gold, sink them to the bottom, let them rot and turn them back into their oil.
Hidden behind the vault doors of big banks and their lies, our wars, our Brave Americans killed on foreign soil over foreign ties.
Believe not the propaganda that is breaking us down, its money and power over everything, pumping it from the ground.
No Respect for life, no conscience of the human Spirit or Hope, file us into lines, give us Democracy and tell us, we matter. Vote
Do we have a decision on WAR or CONFLICT of Interest,   paid off representative public politicians of democracy to whom we entrust?
Watching too many documentaries lately...
 Jan 2015 bryanbeee
devante moore
I ignore you so that you know I am here
 Jan 2015 bryanbeee
Gaby Comprés
we are poems.
beautifully written,
wonderfully designed;
marvelous works of art.
we are written with
starlight and wonder,
with verses of beauty
written across our hearts.
we are walking rhymes,
walking wonders,
walking words that tell
stories of freedom
and redemption.
we are poetry,
we are songs,
we are melodies
that are sung on
bright days.
we are the words of grace,
we are the words unforgotten,
we are words that remain.
663

Again—his voice is at the door—
I feel the old Degree—
I hear him ask the servant
For such an one—as me—

I take a flower—as I go—
My face to justify—
He never saw me—in this life—
I might surprise his eye!

I cross the Hall with mingled steps—
I—silent—pass the door—
I look on all this world contains—
Just his face—nothing more!

We talk in careless—and it toss—
A kind of plummet strain—
Each—sounding—shyly—
Just—how—deep—
The other’s one—had been—

We walk—I leave my Dog—at home—
A tender—thoughtful Moon—
Goes with us—just a little way—
And—then—we are alone—

Alone—if Angels are “alone”—
First time they try the sky!
Alone—if those “veiled faces”—be—
We cannot count—on High!

I’d give—to live that hour—again—
The purple—in my Vein—
But He must count the drops—himself—
My price for every stain!
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