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 Apr 25
Carlo C Gomez
Late October,
and they have assuredly returned.

A canopy of clusters.

At second glance
the leaves on the trees are wings.

Whisper into the dreamscape
for they sense your voice.

Revive them with your breath.

Hold out your hand
like you hold out hope.

The warm sound of flutterings.

Circadian clocks in their antennae,
a sense of where they've been
and where they are going.

The gift from their Creator
moves them in the right direction.
There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so
William Shakespeare

It is all about perspective and that is key to heart
Shiny blade of cutting edge, do you **** or butter
pray tell, OH, Sitting knife !    
Shall I use my quill and write about you as you are  
or spin a yarn regarding you, telling tales to see how far ?
Should I stretch my wenden shades of rose for you,
or strive to see thy point of view !  

Interpret me with candor and honesty dear mate,
and please remember this ...
If you hold me to the sun, I will reflect thy shine  
if you hold me to the dark, all ignorance be thine !    
Perception is key for all of truth's reveal        
so may thine eyes be set in truth and see the good in me.      
Make haste, adjust thy lens, ... take me to a place of love.

By: Mystic Rose
 Apr 25
Christy
A ghost pushed me down the steps.
Naked I fell.
On my way to quench my thirst with grape juice.
What a silly thing to do in the middle of the night.
And now my neck shattered, femur pushed through broken skin.
A helicopter en-route to save my life.
And yet, somehow…
I’m still trying to calm everyone else.
 Apr 25
Nick Moore
A visit to my teacher's house,
While he's talking,
I wounder where the ducks go in winter.

Been expelled,
Better go to the dormitory,
A rage of jealously,
I attack my room mate,
****** nose, hunting hat
Back to front,
I head for New York.

Booking into a hotel,
I dance with three girls,
Pay for their drinks
And off they go,
The elevator guy,
Offers me a girl, I agree,
she knocked at my door!
But I'm a ******, you see,
So we just talk.

I decided to go home, to see my sister, don't want to see my parents, so
I silently enter, go to her room,
She's sleeping so I wake her,
"Why are you home?"
I tell my tale,
"Dad will go crazy!"
Kids tell it straight,
I tell her to meet me later, at the
Museum, off I go, without a sound.

Waiting for my sister,
Watching how people act,
What happens when we grow up?
Most are phonies to me.
I see my sister, so carefree and real,
Do you want to ride the
carousel?
She's so happy, as we arrive,
Picking her favourite horse,
Time to take a ride.

So I'm just busy here watching the wheels
Go round and round,
No longer riding on the merry-go-round,
I'd had some dark thoughts
About what to do next,
But this song came into my mind,
And I just had to let it go,
I'll take my sister home,
Tell mum and dad,
Start a new school
Life ain't to bad.
 Apr 24
nivek
sparks igniting unseen
lightening into words

a sea of forgetfulness
vast giddy distances

an invisible mind
creating stars.
 Apr 24
NuurSeraph
There was an occasion in my life
In which I was immobilized
By such a heavy sense of doom
Even the bold procession of time
Was crushed beneath it’s weight.

Oh, how it felt like such a wretched violation
To watch my mummy excavated
Like an unrequited love turned to dust,
Raised the dead from ancient slumber,
Tightly wound in woven threads,
Lying dormant in the stillness,
Wherein death had come to die.

Torn asunder, clapping thunder
Struck a flash of lightning
From my worn and weary soul.
Then, I was space blown open
Like a limitless circumference
Ever-widening, Mouth of God
Wailing waves of Holy Om.

Like my sudden screams of terror,
With a force of equal power,
Overwhelmed the walls of silence
I had cast around the past.

Upon my waking up
and breaking through
to emerging echoes,
reverberating rings
of harmonious tone,
Rising up from the depths
of my terrestrial tomb,
A great transmutation did occur.

As the sound arose into the Light
A melodious blossom enchanted th’air
This mystical marvel unfolding in flight
Flowering symphonies, bursting with life.

Now, I am the Breath, unburdened
Released from a dull dis-union
Reclaimed by a Light, All-Knowing
I am a child with eyes, wide open.
I am a child with eyes, wide
I am a child with eyes
I am a child
I am
I
Someone once told me that the great secret of Life was to learn how to properly harness powerful feelings of pain, transforming this vital source of energy to awaken and evolve. I think they were on to something...
 Apr 22
eleanor prince
His list is long— as he pauses on life
and Mount Wellington's shadows shift.
Those stealing life's song out of young shoots
breathe the longest
while his beloved dies young.

Scars bleed droplets, not gushing
like Cataract Gorge
when scratched, or touched afresh;
not given space—
how he was stung is remembered.

He tries to be the sunrise
over Bruny Island,
but redback spiders imbibe shadows
lying dormant
assessing risk, ready to strike.

Wounds murmur in the Tamar River
objecting, having heard it all,
wearing down joy's clouded lightness.
Rasping scrubwrens warn
while falsity sharpens its spike.

Flattery's forked tongue is honeyed
as leatherwood, but synthetic—
He resists its bait, casting it past the Derwent;
his skin crawling at false charm.
He retains his grounded sense of self.

Time doesn't wipe it all clean to heal—
it calcifies into chilled stone
like Cradle Mountain's fissured misted face
with sticks of pine trees burnt
while eucalypt gums regenerate, partially blind.

His garden grows wild now
through rambling cracks
as grasses from a cemetery head-piece
sport defiant blooms
of an unaccepted genus.

Memory is a compass
pointing due north
past Port Arthur's harried walls
and Antarctic gales
as tales of unfinished lives see, and wait—
 Apr 22
eleanor prince
over-work and over-striving
to be 'all things to all people'
means we have our colours
bleed out into a murky grey

the next day after azure blue
and smiles with sunshine-yellow
sparkling with the starry sky by night
- the bill has to be paid for the excesses

and a mop-up comes when your sinews  
have been stretched, and burnout brands us
crowding out wherewithal as the smell of rubber
assails on cornering too fast through the hidden shadows
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