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 Sep 2010 chachi
Shashi
The roughness etched on the waves
Like scratches of nails on my Face
The drops leave the foaming sea
Like the sweat drops from my body

To merge in your passion
And in rhythmic creation
Your sighs
And cries, meet
The lashings of the waves
on the beach, like me

And
then the cloudburst
and I am still wet
@Shashi, Dec 2006
 Sep 2010 chachi
Shashi
I slept, dreaming of animal cries
Seeds engaged in birthing
Woke up with a cosmic tree growing all over belly
http://twitter.com/VerseEveryDay
 Sep 2010 chachi
Marcus Lane
Don't cry, this kiss is a kiss goodbye.
Don't cling, it's time to part.
Don't look at me nor ask me why
I've taken back my heart.

No questioning, no pleading;
No door remains ajar.
No doubt your heart is bleeding
Now, and wounds of love will scar.

Don't hope to ever turn back time,
Nor resurrect the flame
Of what became a pantomime
Of love, in all but name.
© Marcus Lane 2008
 Sep 2010 chachi
Michael Benton
The empty page before me
holds magic within its bounds
I sit and hold its edges
'til my inspiration's found  

Shh... Quiet now and you’ll hear
it so softy speak to me
Guide's my mind to fill its lines
but knows not what it’s to be  

The poet's task is simple -
to repeat the paper's tale
and give its thoughts some action
on this course we dare to sail  

The subject can be the same
of the many poems you'll read
but each one holds some magic
as it plants its thoughtful seed  

For two poets can hear its voice
though miles apart they be
and both will craft a telling
each one grayed by what they see  

For therein lies the magic
which each poet is entwined
new ways to express the thoughts
of blank pages that we find  

The poet is a partner
to the paper, thought and word
A poem is but their melding
giving sight to things once blurred
Copyright © 2009 MH Benton
 Sep 2010 chachi
Moe Awad
Join me, embrace me.
Take me in and call me your own.
Adopt my religion and experience my nirvana.
Give into me. Come to me.

Thus is the title of today's Media's agenda.
The title which fuels their un-endless propaganda
To recruit as many of us as they possibly can.

Join me, embrace me.
Take me in and call me your own, goes their slogan.
Give in to me. Come to me…

They grab our attention by showing us light and turning it into gold.
That or any other materialistic miracle that never gets old.

Those of us who need no more persuasion are hooked and are welcomed with open arms.
Those who defect are labelled renegades and rebels and are welcomed with open arms. Ready… Aim…

And you know it's not a game when, out of the silence, a hollow voice whispers.
Not quite a baritone… Insidious as sin.
The voice says, "It's safe to say that I'm ok.
Come to me and I'll take you away.
Don’t be scared, just let me in.
Don’t you want to be my friend?
Come and see what my followers have become!"
And then the television switches on…

The chorus of Rihanna's Disturbia plays and cross fades into Jay Z's Run this town only to be mixed with another song and another after that.
The music is almost tantric but nothing compared to the laser light show provided.

What is this I see inside?
Behind the rainbow and beneath the sky.
A steady shape grows from deep within the Fantasia-like backdrop.
Then appears a bright silhouette of a woman's bare back top
Or in other words, her shoulder.
Hidden amidst the uproar of colours.
Then as I keep on watching, or in other words, behold her…
I see her… I feel like I know her.
Even more so, I feel like I want her!

The temptress in the red dress.
Nothing is too outrageous for her; I can't look away as she begins to sway.
At first she moves so elegantly, with the grace of Astaire and the confidence of Xena But then she twists and turns her sweet ballet into something that even the Lambada would call seductive.
What am I supposed to do? ...
She dances on a checkerboard floor.
Her dress flows like gushing blood.
She looks like she moves and she moves like she knows me…

I steal another glance at her. She wears big earrings with pyramid shaped ornaments dangling from golden chains. Inside them a single eye... Just lovely.

Men want her. Women want to be her.
Come to think about it… Isn’t that how they promote goods nowadays?
****!

What happened?
I look at her again and all I see is nothing???
Why was she taken away from me?
Maybe it's because I'm not allowed to ask any questions!
Because using my mind is old fashioned right?

Now I see what time it is. Now I see that she was false.
As false as the voice's promise.
It was all a mere figment of real life, it must have been.
Because never has my imagination let me down like that.
I blame myself for letting them get to me.
He, the voice and her, the blindfold.
They knew me.
They know us.
They've shaped us.

They have been shaping us since the dawn of time.
They, along with their leader have been trying to lead us astray all along…
In truth I was not surprised when I came to this realization. Simply because it was written in all four books but I was still in doubt.
I guess they got to me and I didn't even realize. Wow…

Clever they are. Give them that I will.
Possess infinite knowledge of the dark side they do.
They plague us with mind tricks and play us like chopsticks.

Their tactics are ingenious yet very unsubtle.
They control us through fake dreams,
And through low self-esteem, enslave us.
They know what they are doing…

Join me, embrace me.
Take me in and call me your own.
Adopt my religion and experience my nirvana.
Give in to me. Come to me…

Ever since mankind had learned to learn,
He was taught and bought.
The infamous "They" have been picking away at us as if we were a giant iceberg, non-stop using only a needle… They have been doing it for over a thousand years. Now we are almost the size of a thirteen inch ice cube and they are in charge.
Our days are numbered and we are melting fast.
Our 40 days aren’t up yet but time is against us.
It's time for us to choose.

Either dance with the devil, and join his rebellion,
Or go with the Ring and switch off your television.

Peace.
~An original piece by Moe Awad~
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