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 Feb 2014
Pablo Neruda
Don't go far off, not even for a day
Don't go far off, not even for a day,
Because I don't know how to say it - a day is long
And I will be waiting for you, as in
An empty station when the trains are
Parked off somewhere else, asleep.

Don't leave me, even for an hour, because then
The little drops of anguish will all run together,
The smoke that roams looking for a home will drift
Into me, choking my lost heart.

Oh, may your silhouette never dissolve
On the beach, may your eyelids never flutter
Into the empty distance. Don't LEAVE me for
A second, my dearest, because in that moment you'll
Have gone so far I'll wander mazily
Over all the earth, asking, will you
Come back? Will you leave me here, dying?
 Feb 2014
Sjr1000
I
Poetry starts
Off in melancholy
Suicide
Preoccupied
With differences and death
Fidelity and failure
I guess all of us
Poets are a little depressed.

We lay down the bricks
One by one
To
Follow our path.
We put on our shoes
Our pants
Our shirt
Cut our hair
Looking into the mirror
Wondering wondering
Whose that stranger there?

Driven by hormonal storms
The door for psychosis
Can open or shut.
Chemo warfare dictates our moods
Immortality fragility
Days which never end
Lovers one after the other
In
Images played
Payed in time
Moving away.

Unconscious
Conscious
Who can say
The body holds
All the keys
Dictates all the way.

II

Then it moves on
To broken hearts
****** insertions
Gentle caress
Every fantasy
Every movie  played
Every Tuesday .

Fantasies and goals
Work that out
Some events and ends
Better ideas
Then realities
Hard to know though
Until it's too late.

Relationships
Commitments
Do I go it alone
Or
Do another do I really know.
Do I hide
Or
Do I show
Who I am and what I know
Is
Love my virtue?

Children
Offspring
Feels like forever
For a short while.
Hope and heart
Heart
And
Heartbreak
Knowing when to intervene
Or let nature take its course.
Do the best we can
And try to heal the rest.

III

Decisions are made
Some genetic
Some environmental
Nature loads the bullets
Nurture pulls the trigger
Nature versus nurture
As old as the hills.

On the periphery
There
Is
Sickness pain psychosis
And just those
For whom
The cultural games
Are far too hard
Too complicated
To master or play.

Bohemians a forgotten caste
Of whom we do reside
Stand outside looking in
Artists
Poets
Drunks
Arguing about the nature of nurture
Trying to find
The portrait
The exact word
The one last drink
Describing all of this.

IV

Into the oven
Alchemy waits
Processing
All
The past and future fates.

Immobile and paralyzed
Until in this suspended state
Begins to generate
The longing to find meaning
And create.
It all blossoms
And becomes possible
And you are riding
A
Different kind of wave
Running
Back and forth
Up at dawn
Putting your boots on
Even
Our sleep and dreams
Go fast
Until the work of our lives is done.

V

In this moment of reflection
Did I do what I intended
To do?
And was it all a waste?
And the final dilemma
Is asked
But never resolved.

Did I live my life with integrity
Or
Did I run and hide
From
My true nature
The phantom captain
Calling from inside?
Or
Do I collapse
Into the despairs
Of what might have been?

It brings to mind
The moment my mother died
As her face formed
Into that wondrous smile
Not only a last gift
For the living
But
A smile left
For a life worth living...
 Feb 2014
Jonny Angel
I love the great outdoors,
for there,
I can make water
from tree branches,
set a snare,
trim & dress a rabbit,
even start a fire in the rain.

I can
make myself invisible,
backtrack to lose my scent,
read a map,
use a compass
& tell time by
using a plain 'ole stick.

And if I get sick,
I know about
medicinal plants,
preparing
a natural-soup,
make jerky.

Reading the stars
is a lost art,
I can do it.

I've eaten crickets,
munched on grasshoppers,
set a broken leg &
erected camouflaged shelters.

Constructing weapons
is an easy trick,
I know about fighting tactics,
hand-to-hand combat,
can practice things martial,
get found when I'm lost.

I can stay warm
in the winter
read the weather signs,
go deep underground.

I don't think much
about the Apocalypse,
but if it comes,
all I need
are the clothes on my back.
 Feb 2014
R
Im sorry if I'm too forward.
i do not only want your body,
i want your heart and your soul.
i want your mind and the way it
thinks so feverishly about details.
i want the heart that speaks
through your tongue.
i love the articulate words you choose
to speak, they keep my head
in the dictionary constantly.
and i want your soul,
you belong in the 1960's
but instead you're here with me.
and that, my dear, makes everything
about this worth while.

trust me, its a bit ****.
the way my hand falls gracefully to your bottom
and how you do not flinch away.
its not even a thought anymore...
its just natural.

you are a beautiful, natural thing, my dear.
every single part of us feels right.
and thats why i haven't run
away yet.
 Feb 2014
Jonny Angel
My baby is so fine,
very romantic,
she is the  genuine
religious fanatic.

On her knees,
she treats me like
her own personal god
& I am awakened
by her actions.

Looking up toward heaven,
she grips me firmly,
nods in fervent prayer,
moulding me,
shaping me
into a hard likeness,
her solid-effigy,
the ******* symbol
she craves.

Her ritual
& evident-desire
are perfect examples
of the sweetest-faith.

And as a just reward
for her handiwork,
I shower her
with my abundance,
fill her coffers
with warm
velvet treasure,
satisfying,
quenching
her beautiful spirit
'till the next time
she wants to see,
taste the signs
come forth.
 Feb 2014
KA
the difference in him
was the lightening in his soul
listening to the wind
he peaks
he scales the walls
moves the mountains
leads the march
is the president
aids the forgotten
loves a beautiful woman
can't stop moving
grows his children
listens to his visions
watches the movie
reads the book
walks the river
runs the trails
all by doing
he is himself
and no one else
a rebel by doing
is happiness and doing
all the same

collectively we move to behave
through such sin we die
little by little
death of the boring
death of living a lie
a lie of a fool
puppets hanging
the last gasp of life

rebel you have hope
run your race
be you
splash the puddle
kiss the sun
and live your life
by doing you
succeed in this life
the game by God
you win the prize
you are you
rebel you are perfect
...you



KT Feb 18 2014
 Feb 2014
Paul M Chafer
Blackbird

Blackbird
Beautiful Blackbird,
Take heart, take flight,
Leaving all the hurt behind,
Upon the wing, you can sing,
Allowing troubles to unwind.

Blackbird
Precious Blackbird,
Be strong, be brave,
Be unafraid, just to fight,
Forever free, you shall see,
Blue skies, clear and bright.

Blackbird
Sweet Blackbird,
Know faith, know hope,
Sharing dreams, everyday,
Knowing inside, no need to hide,
Trust guiding you, all the way.

© Paul Chafer 2014
For my friend
Zen
We seldom wish
to let go
of what we have,
but,
it is only once it's lost
that we begin to realize,
once more,
how easily we can begin anew,
once more.

For this reason,
seek simplicity
and elegance,
not only in what you have,
but also in what you do,
and unto what and whom
you chose to share and impart
your divine Energy;
your mortal Time.
 Feb 2014
PrttyBrd
I gave
You have taken

I am empty
You are gorged

I am nothing
You are all

I've been broken*
You have won
Thanks for playing
copyright©PrttyBrd 01/02/2014
 Feb 2014
Sjr1000
We walked
Outside to a cold winter night
Sky
To smoke
One last cigarette
You softly cried
I knew why.
We found Orion
Winter high
In the Eastern sky.

There is a dark spot
Within his belt
Thought forever dark
But actually a path
To the ancient ancestors
Of galaxies past
Whose light began
Long before
Our sun and earth and moon
Were born.

We smoked our cigarette
Wondered about it all
As we always had.
And on this night of farewell
And cold clear winter skies
Orion and it all
The only enormity
Matched
Was this moment of our love
And
Our last goodbye.
 Feb 2014
Prabhu Iyer
The leaves in winter, they all fall in place.
In endings hidden, embers of a new life.
Every once in a while an unknown girl
walks up close on a smoggy night;
And an awkward lank woos her with
half-withered roses by the south bank;
Going after severed kites,
landing now by the memory lane:
by the Thames, holding a palmful,
saying, this river's named after you:
she has a dimpled smile;
By the lakes, deep at night, when the moon
walks over the waves, dancing with the swans;
Where the Lee bends around the corner,
a red bus emerges out of the mist,
a hero on chilly nights of the early autumn,
when the dhak welcomes the Goddess home.
Teals, wobbling out of the pond, by
the temple of love, closed for ages now;
Crimson paint dripping from the evening
sky at the corners;
Every day when loving this way
seems like a picture painting away,
get lost walking by the Thames;
Whirling back like the descent from the Eye,
time and crackers light the sky,
on a Guy Fawkes night.
Have a mushy Valentines :)

Btw if you are not familiar with the sound of the dhak, you are missing something!

A short animated presentation here is a fantastic introduction: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jMUvf9GKlMM
 Feb 2014
Jonny Angel
Blustery winds sing
through the naked oaks
& an icy chill chokes me,
reminding me
winter
is not giving up,
its hold is brutal,
unforgiving
with its cold,
solemn song.
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