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 Mar 2017
Gidgette
It's night again, darkness calls
Rubies fall from cut paper,
shimmering
Like the Nile river at sunset
Painted visceral eyes, pour forth diamonds
sparkling,
as a spider web
kissed
with fresh morning dew in June,
dripping from lashes drawn with
charcoal

Still, ticking continues

Even for paper people
~A
 Mar 2017
Born
I reckon the ages when the fogies
did ,that which wasn't bogey
and reasons why seasons did sizzle
a past never altered to past tense
for this is my utterance

Lost had nothing to post
just a gaze ,giring me a phrase
this is now the boat of amazement
bloated ;though it towed it lagged my bragging heart to fuse

I beckon with ease but not bliss
though to find peace but just please
jammed on.....
crumbled thoughts ,crumpled mind forth with a wrinkled ****** looks.
It was nothing special!

it took no nook,cranny not all the kin
all in all I found myself on the book

Something felt to be great ,
with the magnitude of the concocted ideas
the amazing grace 'song' just leveled to the latitude
those were the days ,no longer the same
Blame the game

Curtain drawn ,not yet certain
the pain is gone but still torn
born a new but just with some .....to cling on

I obliged to lean on a clean page
For the idea is no longer oblivious
Various scenes but not the obvious
©Carter
 Mar 2017
ryn
This anger...

Feels like a ball of uncontrollable energy that spins treacherously in the pit of my stomach.

It is unbound and reaches out forcefully in every axis. It is self-sustaining. And it consumes...
All of me...

It's doesn't want to be displaced, or swept under the rug for the umpteenth time. It doesn't want to be cajoled or calmed. It doesn't want to be coaxed into thinking that it does not need to rear its ugly head because I believe I have a handle on things; which I clearly do not.

It knows me too well and will not take it lying down.

It wants acknowledgement and it wants to speak.

It wants to speak in a low guttural voice for the sheer purpose of intimidation.
It wants grow in figurative size to assert its validation.
It wants to absorb every form of negativity and use it to fuel the fight.
It wants to take the faintest pin-***** or papercut to the most painful stab in the heart and use them...
Harness them and then...
Explode in a hundred-mile radius.

This anger is real...
And it has had enough of sitting on the bench.
Now it wants a piece of the action...

And this time I let it.
 Mar 2017
beth fwoah dream
i.

i await
the sudden
awakening
of colour, in
the straw air
the clouds of
yellow flowers
wrap the
forsythia in gold.

ii.

the land is
ivy and moss,
thick-blades
of grass bend
in rain so
light that the
grass hardly
weighs down,

the rain is a
bare breeze

a time-surrendering
blossoming of air.

iii.

you said,
i love you
and it meant
more than i can
say and
i cried for joy.

iv.

boy, with your
brown eyes
dark with the
wild brooding shore,

your touch is
fire on my skin

and i brood too,
wilder than air.

v.

a bird sings,
sings of wilderness
and beauty
and that a heart
must be free.

the white
sheets of the
sky are still
in their mists.
 Feb 2017
South by Southwest
He's the hand I felt on my shoulder as the tornado went over me . He's the one who saved me from choking to death in my own ***** . He's the one who sat beside me on the mountaintop as I cried over my wrongs . And if I ever kneeled before him he would take my hands and raise me so I could kiss his cheek . Who is God ? My best friend who has saved me time and time again . Who understands my limits and my failures but forgives me each and every time . One who is always there for me to lean on when I am tired , lonely , discouraged . One who has shown me heaven and promised a place there for me .
Who is God ? He is in me , my past , my present , and future . I am nothing without my God .
 Feb 2017
Poetic T
The cartography of my mind is yet to be explored,
  I have traversed many plains that were jut ideal
of verses but not journeyed upon.

Trajectories of northern eclipse were where I discovered
the white sheets of new reflections, Never trodden
      upon till I versed over the crisp placidity.

I wandered onwards after leaving footsteps of words
    that would either be evoked in memory or
be just negated and never walked on again..

Gerontogeous locations were where I found my dreams,
lucid apparitions of what had concluded thought my days.
      vivid but untruths, just figments of minds restful whispers.

I awoke refreshed that moment entwined in thought of
  what that tumble-drier of imagination meant.
but it faded in moments like a bubble popping in the breeze.

Portside is where I sailed upon the breeze of morality,
I was used to this place, intentions, ethics that manners, and
curtsey defined me, right and wrong a definition of character.

Upon my travelling I was meet up with recollections that
were of my meeting of others on my journey of life.
For every action has a reaction and defines you the most.

The opposite sister of the dreams, where I delved to travel
upon memory of all that was. Now seen recorded in HD
[High Definition] sounds and smells were explored upon.

Memories ignited by aromas, reliving that precious time
now faded but remembered, in sight and sound even
though no longer there. I smile at this as I walk on.

"My mind is a projection of many different sides I have travelled
within many times,


*"Each time discovering something new about myself.
 Feb 2017
Poetic T
A man is but a petal,

    where a woman is the flower.

For without her he is nothing,

to be a man the flower must birth the *petal...
Deep I know :)
 Feb 2017
South by Southwest
I came to where the road divides
I wondered which way I was to go
Then something shiny caught my eye
It was a silver fork and I said ** !
Perhaps a little on up above
A spoon or knife will lay way lade
And I can find it before the flood
And if I do my day is made
Now if only I had some marmalade

A truck driver told me always go to the right
Never make the mistake of turning left
Wouldn't that always be driving in circles
He said that's the meaning of life

So I threw the fork back on the road
And took the left fork full of toad(s)
See all that glitters is broken glass
Ask Cleopatra and her asp
What the frog ?
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