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 Feb 2016
Silence Screamz
I live in tangerine dreams
Tripping on acid
with Lucy and her diamonds in the sky

Shh, listen as the vinyl is ripped backwards
Warped demonic voices echo through our tranced souls
We have all done it

Studio 54,  New York City, 1971
Dancing half naked, sweat drenched men
Grinding upon every inch of their manhood
Lines of coke snorted off the mirror fueled by alcohol induced *** in the bathroom
We wanted to do it
But never had the *****

Never take this tangerine dream away from me
Let me eat the clouds, let it taste like cotton candy
Let it stick to my fingers , as I try to lick the sugar molecules off every one of my digits
I know everyone has done that

I hear Bowie in the background,
the spiders came from Mars
and ate my soul and it didn't hurt
Do you know The Man who sold the world?
I don't !!
A little 70s trip to the past
 Feb 2016
K Balachandran
A tailor bird, though busy wanted to stitch the best
of clothes for me to wear , in a fair, getting nearer,
so thankful, I was, though it'd hardly fit a man
of my size, I bow my head, overwhelming is her love!

The swift, I always admire for her speed, promises
to take me for an arial tour, 100 km an hour, no less
all 148gm, of love is she !though I appreciate that,hardy can
I fly with this tiny parcel of energy, many a kin whose love
again is hard to reciprocate, unless I realize we all are one.
"Wildest dreams"-Taylor Swift
Many birds, closer to heart; remember the unconditional love received with a brimming heart..
Every bad has some good in it
like silver line round the cloud
a bad isn't bad every bit
has something to make feel proud.

One night on a rainy day
out on my aimless roam
saw a koi that lost its way
caught it and brought it home.

In a bucket it lived two years
no way I would ever regret that
had I on that day chosen to stay clear
it would have been taken by a cat.

Once she bought a bird cheap
back home we soon found out
surely it wasn't a prized keep
was lame in one leg no doubt.

But be sure we chose not at all a wrong
the foot though not cured healed a lot
the budgie would not have lasted long
had its lameness prevented to be bought.
 Jan 2016
Torin
And for me
The pain hurts more
The bonds
Are stronger
The love is deeper
And the need for revenge....

Is the one thing I need to let go of
 Jan 2016
SY Burris
Her feet were balloons and her toes were the ties,
And her shoes were a way of life—
Boots to splash in puddles and heels to catch an eye.
Her legs were the ocean and her arms were the moonlit sky
And her hands were binoculars and her palms were maps,
And her fingers showed him the way.
Her nails were chameleons that changed when they liked
And her skin was tan in the fall and pale in the spring,
But her cheeks were always rose
And her shoulders were turtles, lifting the world,
And her neck was only a scarf
And her stomach was empty but her chest was full
And her hips spoke for themselves
And her golden hair coiled like silk snakes before the killing strike.
Her ears were the willows on the edge of the lake,
And she could hear but never liked to listen,
And when she did, you knew,
And her questions were stupid and her answers were not
And her thoughts were clouds in the morning
And her voice was the wind
And he was lucky.

Her eyes were blue and hung like Neptune in the dark,
And her gaze could cool the sun,
And she was beautiful.
 Jan 2016
Silence Screamz
Walk the narrow road
Total blind with time
Wicked trees tickle the spine
With air as still as the night

We encounter careless souls of the mindful dead
Placed there by each of us
Head torn and mind ******
We go there each day

Walk the narrow road
No looking back to see you
Not a second is spent feeling
or pushing back the heart

I wonder why it's gone
But all too soon
Eyes crossed with double vision
Venture past the door
Do we walk the same path or do we open another door?
 Jan 2016
Musfiq us shaleheen
~~
Then it became a blue afternoon
while came to evening
They were the realities of her farewell
Glowed in the dark blue,
what an abstract shadow cast!
Floating Autumn Clouds,
away the red hibiscus grew gray
heard a vague weird tune

Then one morning
Along with a purple flower
red hibiscus saw inset
and the dark chorus of a clay oven
covered her face
away in the loft several gourd hanging
walking,
walking down the way
at the end,
stood beneath a banyan tree

Doors opened in the silence
southern wind followed
to move in the room
randomized the bed cover,
poetry books,
morning news paper
while closed the door
opened the northern windows

The tireless long night
while I left the room,
wandering as the lonely clouds
went through the garden
where the sky came down
wanted to say life
walked on foot
A long sleepless night
saw the stars fairs
heard a vague weird tune

At that April's night,
Caught the sight of
dry dropping leaves
The smell of gardenia
to bring me the new ideas
of poetry
touched the sky
wandering on a raft of clouds
filled with
see you decided to

Then it all went down together
in the dark with blue
anyhow a golden sun bought
a yellow day
and all the red flamboyant trees
singing
while standing beside
the two sides of the road
with the wind in breath,
my dying

And instead of go with them
mingled the ways of life is changed
when the ways rolled along a curve
One January morning's mist
coming off the sun on the dew
I liked to walk barefoot
in the soft sun
with a woolen blanket covering

At noon,
the river flowing
with streaming sound
took flock a small Sampan
toward upstream
uprising mind grew cool
with stream
Today is just going to get lost
beyond the horizon
Feel to see back,
Slowly known nature
grew small with time,
after some times
shadows mingled
with a dark space

While came the night
Footprints remain in the dust
of shadows
after millions of years
to become fossils
In the mind and
In the deep heart of
the Milky Way

Her fade face is still
to come and go
Over time,
in terms of conservation
of energy
Again when I opened the window
At a long sleepless night
Saw the stars fairs
Heard a vague weird tune
~~
@Musfiq us shaleheen
******************
************
 Jan 2016
SøułSurvivør
Collaboration with Alyssa Underwood!


I'm not getting much from life,
it makes me want to scream!
Won't achieve my smallest goal...

let alone my dreams!
.

Your life's hidden in Christ's hands
and your competence comes from Him.
His Spirit's working His purpose in you...

despite how things may seem.
.

I'm frail and I'm weak,
I'm sorry. I'm not strong.
You say I can handle this test...

You couldn't be more wrong!
.

Frailty's the best start
for watching our egos flee.
Once we know WE can't do it...

we begin to get set free.
.

I am sick and tired
of the daily drudge!
And fellow believers?

All they do is JUDGE!
.

So lay it all down.
Jesus died to bear
the indomitable weight...

of every burden you wear.
.

Does God answer prayers?
I wonder if HE DOES!
If you go and backslide

He seems to hold a grudge!
.

I find He answers differently
than what I might seek first,
for what's pleasant now...

May not fill my deepest thirst.
.

Alright. He makes us patient.
But I can believe the lies!
He has no provision

to make me savvy... WISE!
.

If wisdom like the world
is what the soul most craves,
where's the contentment...

in those who are its slaves?


The believer is the candle
Jesus is the flame.
Thank you sister for your help...

I'm calling on His Name!

I will heed your sayings.
I have been absurd!
He's good to all His promises...

They're written in HIS WORD.
.

It's not absurd to question
or probe into our doubts.
HIS WORD can stand resistance...

through every skeptic's shouts.

We're here to help each other
find truth along the way.
JESUS IS THE WAY AND TRUTH

AND LIFE WE LIVE EACH DAY!


Alyssa Underwood  (the voice of Truth)
.
*SoulSurvivor  (the doubtful believer)
It was a TRUE pleasure to write with
Alyssa... she's amazing!

-
 Jan 2016
Bunhead17
Have you ever experienced a premonition
that you just couldn't shake?
A foreboding dream or sign
that you deeply wanted to ignore but...
your spirit just wouldn't release it?
It is not so uncommon among many of us...
that nagging little thought that wont go away,
or that little voice in your head,
like a magnet internally pulling you away
or toward someone
or someplace or something....

I need to escape....I have to escape.
Will anyone help me?
I'm afraid
Fear is a dream killer,
escape is more than running away,
it is finding where you belong....and having the courage to go there....even if you must go alone.
Don't panic.....don't panic

Don't fear these dreams...Fear not
You'll escape them.
Just wake up...wake up*

Once your eyes and your heart are open,
your passions will lead the way to your dreams

*And you will know their meaning
 Dec 2015
Firefly
The old fool whispers:
“The wind always lies”
His mouth frothing with spit,
Tongue attracting flies.
He pranced around,
As if in a play,
Arms growing towards the ground,
He groped his *****, mottled dress shirt,
Lifting it up to show,
His smirk suggesting a flirt.
In his cloudy gray mind,
He was in an oasis,
Looking on intricate desert, talking to the wind.
The wind,
Wild thief of old,
Wanted to steal the man’s heart of gold,
He wore many faces,
The dancer-prancer, the merchant, the *****.
He danced with the old man,
Tying his brain with laces,
The old man was twirling,
Humming a tune,
Laughing as into the water he went.
                                                           ­    -**Firefly
Copyrighted September 15 2014
All rights reserved.
 Dec 2015
Firefly
How very lonely HP is,
In the middle of the night,
Reading long ago poems by friends,
Tapping little red hearts,
Only time I'm available,
After dusk; hours before dawn,
Reposting poems, my fingers just as assailable as Moby ****,
Or Hansel's and Gretel's witch,
I stare at blank, gray suns,
Wishes I, I had some to use,
To uplift; to free,
All the beautiful poetry,
Even the ones with coquetry,
I rapidly kiss plusses with my right thumb,
Adding to worthy collections,
Of addictive confections,
'Till 2,
When alas I sip hot coco,
Scratch my ****,
And fall asleep beside my cat; momo.
Written after one such 12 - 2am stretch, when I woke up with momo's claws in my ****. **** hot coco!
 Dec 2015
Francie Lynch
Between autumn's offerings
And spring's wings,
Our winter lights are everything.
Crisp sky nights string tinsel streams,
And crystal air heils winter's dreams.

Poplar trees that snowed in summer
Are treasures held in winter's slumber.
Bare branches reach in silhouette
For crowning stars where none now sit.

Here dreams of flight and fancy thrill
Shimmering eyes on a gift-wrapped hill.
Shorelines once rubbed with reeds,
Are splashed by our moonlight beads.
Knolls wrapped in wreaths of herring bone,
Like sirens call us from our home.

Stars held in place by poplar fingers
Ring our ponds like carolling singers.
There nestled by framed winter scenes,
Our winter lights glitter red and green.

These lights that through our window stream,
Bring to mind warm Christmas dreams
Repost: Forgive me this, but it's my Christmas poem.
 Dec 2015
SøułSurvivør
I want to first thank all my
supporters and readership.
I will read as soon as
I have the time and I can
give your work the attention it deserves.

I've been overwhelmed.
I have to make my presents this
Christmas. But I found out I'm in
excellent company...

FROM APPALACHIA WITH LOVE

Gra'ma Annie had a mission
to help children in need
she lives up in the hills
where they grow their food from seed.

They have no running water
no facilities indoors
still heat and cook with wood
don't buy much from stores
there are folk so destitute
they still have dirt floors.

Li'l Annie was a scrapper
90 pounds if soaking wet.
But her heart is just enormous
as big as one can get!

She found out 'bout a drive
for children overseas
in Africa and Asia
Haiti and the Belize

How the people in those countries
had no presents for to give
their children at Christmas
they could barely live!

She contacted the charity
and said she'd send some toys
as many as possible
to the poor girls and boys.

Annie had no phone
so she walked far and wide
and asked all the hillfolk
throughout the countryside
to whittle and to paint
toys in which to pride!

Those people got together
and carved ponies and dolls
that had joints that moved
and real hair that falls!

They whittled and sanded
painted with rainbow hues
and when they had delivered them
it made world news!

The children overseas
who got them still recall
they kept their homemade presents...

THEIR FAVORITES OF ALL!


MY FATHER "NEVER HAD A CHRISTMAS"*

My father was a child
in a place called Isle la Monte
winter's are quite brutal
in that part of Vermont.

His family were farmers
they lived off the land
they had gardens and stored their food
they worked hard with their hands

They had to really struggle
to make the frayed ends meet
dad walked 14 miles total
through the snow and sleet
to get to his schoolhouse
sometimes with frozen feet

Every year at Christmas time
his mom would be in tears
she would never say much
but stated that she feared

there would be no Christmas
no presents and no tree
it was always the same.
Grandpa would agree.
So the children went to bed
every Christmas eve.

But they weren't sad
because they always knew
that Santa was coming
and so they weren't blue.

Sure 'nuf in the morning
they'd tumble out of bed
and in the once-bare corner
there was a *tree instead!


There were many presents
most carved and painted things
grandma got the practical stuff
no perfume or rings.

But the Christmas meal was cooking
and all through the home
the smell... that sumptuous dinner...

well. That's another poem...!

But before the feast was eaten
grandfather said Grace
and thanked the blessed Lord
and ALWAYS SOUGHT HIS FACE.


SoulSurvivor
Catherine Jarvis
(C) 12/23/2015


MERRY CHRISTMAS HOLIDAY!!!

I still have presents to make...
see you SOON!


~~~<☆>~~~
Both of these stories are TRUE.


~~~<☆>~~~
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