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 Jun 2017
wordvango
perhaps,
a secret Soviet
double latte
ordered
on what was supposed to be the
"secret" channel?
 Jun 2017
Shanath
There are many stars
On my one heavy blanket,
Outside the earth falls.
Dreams are constructed
Nightmares are real.
 Jun 2017
PJ Poesy
In war, as might be expected, gushing come veins
Soon misery is gone, it is an essence she drains
Have you heard of Suonetar, Goddess of Finnish lore?
Arteries her artillery, bringer of blood and gore

Kindness matters not, to her it is all but same
Nonchalantly she saunters, indifference her game
Give a little, get a little, splattered or gathered
Bowing to her majesty, she cannot be flattered

You will not reason with her, a succubus she is
Pray to her "Take my pain," as bleeding increases
Mopping up the battlefield, to her blood endowed
Dripping her viscosity, in ichor, she is enshroud
 Jun 2017
Feggyr Citack
-on a settled man's doubts

Go, young man, I said one night.
Go chase the fading height,
before it fades away forever.

Now the people over there
are just like us, you know:
at fading heights they stare.

But if your urge brings you there,
smash your bitter bottle against the pristine top.
By the **** of baptism let an old man know
how well you fare.

O yes, young man, please let me know
I did the right thing to remain
and send you out, so I could abstain
from capricious actions all my life.
Inspired by the Andalusian mountains, watching a valley changing colours all day. At sunset accompanied by a lovely wine from Spain ;-)
 Jun 2017
Saparonia Holliday
In my accidental garden
There's a eucalyptus tree
I had to chop it down
Then it grew again for me.

There are pieces of it's body
Standing all around
They have a sort of beauty
I don't sit on the ground.

There's wisteria in flower
Twisted round the climbing frame
By the door a bright red acer
Trimmed to stop the drips of rain

Honeysuckle rambles
I confess there's brambles too
Dock and nettle with the roses
Rosemary and Feverfew

There's a dish of cat food
For the feline friends who come
But the dish is empty
And for cats alas there's none

Fearless Robin first to find it
Shared some time with me
Then Mrs Blackbird came
And her husband warily.

I sit on the unformed wood
Beneath the shady trees
With birds all unafraid
And I wonder
 Jun 2017
Graff1980

Two petite pretties
pranced before me
paragons of the
impoverished society
that values surface
over depth.

The dancing debutantes
dangled their dangerous
and dubious dispositions
directly in front of me.

Enter stage bad boy
blustering buffoon
with a silver spoon
so far up his ***
he spewed silver polish
on his nice Polish pants.

Cash in hand
he passed around
his affluences
like it was influenza
vomiting vague
platitudes with
so much attitude
as if he had
anything valid to say.

But this crowd was rapt
by the vapid vocalist.
He drank expensive ****
to prove he was valid;
No valor just vain vagaries
on display to frustrate me
greatly.

They celebrated the success of a
failing millionaire who was premade
by the fortune that his father made
to bail him out of all of his mistakes.
As he played society like a broken violin
I was trying to bring talented art back in
but society placed me in the trash bin
before I could even begin
to purge the poison
the incurably incurious
perpetuators of
shallowness.

So I bow out of this
cause I thought
we were working together
to make each other’s life better
but it turns out I was
running a race
I did not even know about.
 May 2017
Elizabeth Squires
donating persons
were regularly featured
on the front cover

those who had no funds
seldom did attain a post
to vanguard status

it might well be said
cash carry's so much gravitas
in fees of favour
 May 2017
Lora Lee
The sky was a cornflower
and the trees heavy
                  with birdsong
air fragrant with freshness
cooling the silk of my bare
heat rising from my
skin in shades of
tropical
              morning pond
oasis of damp promise
teeming with life
           under surface
mini color-popped creatures
humming with
       fluorescent vitality
fronds reaching out
in an aquatic dance
nourishing the gateway
to inner organs  
with sweet
           vitamin love
as a trip of
           buzzing, faintly heard
opens into my brainwave
revitalizing
    cleaning out toxicity
pushing out
words that lower
                       self-worth
bringing up subconscious
potions of power
harmonious with the new,
embryonic fluid of clear
                  reaching deep
into corners of
          brittle heartdust

And my lotus soul opens
            a small glowing orb
expanding in  polychrome prisms
                to the glory of
aurora-tipped streaks
           as straight into
my aching heart
       the quenching dawn
                                      speaks
My thirst slaked by
nature's mantra,
I now stand waist-deep
into grounded
            and heavenly clarity,
feeling water lilies bloom
between my thighs
as I take the occasion
to pick up the pieces
                  where my soul
left off
and despite all odds,
              arise
Inspired by a stunning morning walk and an excellent, strengthening day yesterday

Ahhhh..this:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IAvHjoLxxh8
 May 2017
SøułSurvivør
Death comes a child
suckled on the breast.
A nightowl's call...
a weighted chest.

Death comes a jester.
How he cavorts!
Kings and Queens will
share his court.

They jeer his antics!
They do... for now.
But in the end

THEY ALL SHALL BOW.


SøułSurvivør
(C) 5/28/2017
This piece was inspired by
Woody and his poem
The slow boogie
 May 2017
Navigated Thoughts
The mask I wear is but this skin of mine,
They find it unbelievable to have this much shine,

Is it through a fault of mine,
one can't assume to see the shine?

Or are we so weary,
to see ambivalence behind every disguise?
Do you believe I can be my true self with you?
Or do suspect deceit from every true?
 May 2017
Graff1980
Barely beyond January
half-way into February
winter should still be cold.
Instead, it is vexing me
fluctuating between
fifty to sixty degrees.

Now the weather confusion
unleashes the wanderlust in me.
My car comes rumbling
stumbling over loose gravel.

Still daylight,
but there is no sun in the sky
just cool blue, and grey clouds
with unknown animals
hooting and howling
out their own natural melodies.

I park to play
a video game
on my cellphone
then write down a couple of notes
while intermittently reading
two different books
of poetry.

The old empty elm tree
waves drunkenly at me.
Sparse spindly fingers ascend,
empty but imagining
that spring will bring back
the soft living green.

All this observed
in under an hour.
Until, my impatience
drives me back home
to all of my distracting
technology.
 May 2017
wordvango
only as good as truth
as strong as my conscience
flesh and bone and blood
with something other
a goal
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