wander through
your
    day,
awash with wonder and
   delight,

at the ordinary.

My words,
Have a lot more to say than you think.
My poems,
Have hidden feelings in them.
My outside,
It's not all that I have.
I have a inside too.
And every word,
Every poem of mine,
Is the same as I.

If I should ever say I might commit suicide
Then take me to a shrink
Straight away.
For I will have done a mental U-turn,
A complete reversal
Of my current mind-set
Which I’ve always had.

It is highly likely that when we die
There is nothing
Zilch
Finito.
World’s End for us.

I hope I’m wrong
As I’ve said before.
That’s there’s Heaven
Or Reincarnation
Or Something.
Immortality sells well.
Most religions offer
An Afterlife.

So Life is Precious
And all too short
For me.
Not to be sniffed at
For sure.
To be made the most of
And extended
For as long as possible.

Suicide bombers are the worst
Of course –
Killing others too
In a fit of Madness.

No, instead of suicide
I yearn for golden dawns and sunsets,
For trees on mountains,
Endless seas,
In our Eternal, Infinite Multiverse,
Blue sky or stars above,
Bathed by the radiant sun
Or cool Moon.

If you think of suicide,
Talk to us instead.

Paul Butters

© PB 25\9\2015.

Glad that Fall is finally here. Not because of the pumpkin spice specials, nor the chilly weather.. Not that I enjoyed the summer heat anyway.
But what makes Fall important to me, is the beauty of realization. The eye opener of change. The hot weather becomes cooler, the leaves begin to change colors, the leaves start to fall.
Amazed by all of this, yet not seeing the true picture. If the weather, leaf colorcolors, & trees start to change, to show beauty, & rebirth. Why can't we?

I'm
breathing
hurriedly...i'm
r e m e m b e r i n g
c o n c e n t r a t i n g
trying  to  p i c t u r e :
~~ A ~~


P--lethora of trees, flowering plants...across and beyond...surround the

L--ustrous surface of the rushing blue green water...spraying...  
     nourishing
A--maranths and azaleas, with its windblown mists...refreshing.....see,

C--reeping creatures underwater could not ruin the quietude it emits

I--nimitable is its Serenity...nothing else is at par.............its

D--impled surface, tiny ripples running, creating streams of dreams...
     whispering


W--ords...a gentle massage, washing away rage, misery...like precious

A--methyst, jade, citrine and crystals...shimmering down under,  
      rebuilding, helping
T--urquoise, gently touch with its sea blues...above, under...wherever

E--merald waters, against red carnelian rocks...to weather...endure...to

R--escue someone reeling...patiently...with words mollifying...and  
     sprays of
S--alty mists..soothing pensive eyes, mind, soul...cleansing...healing  
     CHAKRA...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Placid~waters~run
b e h i n d~~me
b e f o r e~~me
deep~~within
~~ m e ~~
~~~~~




Sally

Copyright September 3, 2015
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

Shifting his gaze from my face to the ground
His twisted mouth shouts at me without a sound
Pleading with his stoic expression
To save him from his inner depression

Holding your hand like running water
Leading you, a lamb, slowly to slaughter
Not out of choice but because we must
To hope that are actions are ones we can trust

Smiling spite into suspicious spectators
Assuring them that there's nothing greater
Nothing greater than life's unfairness
To strip us of worth and force us to bareness

To remind them all that life is bleak
And its answers we're not meant to seek
Denying the purpose, the magic of life
Showing it is nothing but tremendous strife

You should know better than to think this way
To reconsider what you're trying to say
Because life may sometimes be far from gay
But that doesn't mean in the valley it stays

It means more than imaginable for life to just be
Its undeniable magic is not lost on me
Though there are limits on what we can see
Finding yourself through the ******* is key

Cause if you don't know who you are, then who will?
What then do you become except a flesh-bag with skills?
Why not sup from life's goblet until you've had your fill?
Why rise up in objection, voice scratchy and shrill?

You don't understand, that much is clear
It doesn't make sense that you're not filled with fear
How can you do anything when there's nothing to do?
How can you have an internal rendezvous with just you?

We are on different levels of thinking of stuff
And I don't mean for my words to be taken as gruff
But maybe your spirit is not up to *****
You know who gets going when the going gets rough

I hope you're not thinking that I've given up
That I've had my fill, and am done with my cup
I'm hoping that life can make a turn for the better
That it turns warm and sunny, with no need for a sweater

No, I'm still here for a reason; I'm not done yet
There's still a lot in life I'm trying to get
I'm not quite ready to admit this is the end
There's still to many wounds that need to mend

Now you are talking like a man with some sense
You've opened your mind, stopped being so dense
And though life's not perfect, from this point hence
Try to understand it, even though it's immense

I will do my absolute best
And I know someone else will take care of the rest
Just promise me one thing before you go
That you'll always be with me, that you'll help me grow

*I promise to you that I'll always be there
To take arms with you, and help you prepare
To fight back against things causing despair
No need to check by your side, I'm not going anywhere.

DedPoet stated that none of his writing made it into paper
To celebrate his life and contribution to life
I propose a proposition
That we should gather his works and try to get it published somewhere.
It would make his legacy permanent
Everybody deserves some time of legacy when they dedicate themselves to something.