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Again the moonlights company
4 am. She's somewhere.
About the skies glow
Stars flicker eyes turn
Search seek
A lone northern light
A light show
I gaze up to search for
And she's there I turn. My
Sight looks beyond now
Beyond my dim sight
Farther than I can reach
And I hope.
I remember
I close my eyes
And see.
But
For tonight
Her memory
And the moon
Light glow northerly
And a star's
Twinkle
And all my might
Are all I can see.
She is everywhere
But here...

She walked this night
in a snow covered field
as the snow blew all around
dancing diamond’s, iridescent light
with a kiss, the magic was sealed.

To the sky she points, lights appear
stunning colors, fill the dark of night
a graceful dance, only he will see
the beauty of the northern lights.

To him, she sends, her heart, her soul
through lights that dance among the stars
pushing back a looming shadow
she takes comfort in their beautiful memoirs.

Closing her eyes, she sees his face
his eyes, his heart, her beaconing light
pushing back that looming shadow
bringing comfort to her fright.

So she walks this night
in a snow covered field
as the snow blows all around
dancing diamond’s, iridescent light
with a kiss, the magic was sealed.
~
 Apr 2018
Jeff Gaines
Hello everyone,

  I'm so very sorry … I feel horrible doing this, but I have no choice. You see, I have published my first book on Amazon/Kindle! This piece (and many others) had to be taken down because they do not allow published material to be available online for free. (Go figure) I wanted to leave the shell of the posts because I felt compelled to leave all your helpful and loving comments. (Silly sentimental, I know), but I also didn't want to just have the pieces disappear without an explanation. I feel bad enough as it is!

  I owe ALL of you so, SO much for all of your reads, love, and support. It was YOU that gave me the gumption to FINALLY get off my **** and publish! Thank you all for the warm comments, camaraderie, and encouragement! I will still be here, reading, uploading and just being the Rascal that I am. How could I EVER leave you guys?

  The book is called “The Way I See It – FictionPhilosophySoul Food” and it will be FREE for the first few days on Kindle Select, so watch for it, if you are interested. I hope that you go and grab it. If you do, I would also hope that you find it worthy, you would leave me a good review. That will help me get in the public eye! Soon afterward (2-3 days or so), it will be available in paperback.

Find the book(s) here: www.amazon.com/author/jeff.gaines

Or find the book(s), and all about me, here: www.JeffGaines.world

  Soon after, I also hope to have my first novel (a supernatural thriller), called “Wanderer” available as well!

  Wish me luck!

                                Big, Biggest Love,

                                               Jeff Gaines
I spent nearly 8 years living in Bed-Stuy Brooklyn. Park Ave. and Broadway. Right across the street from the Sumner Houses section. People died on my block at a rate of one or so a month. 4 different times, I heard the actual shots that I would later learn had taken the lives of people. I heard gun fire and/or screaming on a nearly nightly basis. Daytime was okay. But at night, all bets were off.

In the entire time that I lived there, I walked the streets coming home from the train and bars and even work, as late as 3-4 in the morning. NOT ONCE was I ever accosted or even approached, let alone hurt or robbed.

Aside from the Angel that has apparently been living upon my shoulder for most all of my life ... I accredit this uncanny security to the outward appearance I have been bestowed with. I am a big guy, 6 foot tall, 275 pounds, long curly brown hair, a mustache and soul patch. I have a cocky, confident swagger when I walk, always with my head up and always taking in my surroundings.

I've come to the conclusion that the bad guys take one look at me and then ponder: "Ehhh, let's just wait on the next one."
 Apr 2018
Ashly Kocher
My name is Ashly (yes spelled without
the E)
I was born without a windpipe and was 3 months premature.
I underwent surgery for a tracheostomy and died on the operating table.
I was revived.
I was hooked up to many machines and my parents were told I wouldn’t live for more then 3 days...
If I would survive more then 3 days I would be hooked up to machines my whole life and be in a “vegetative state”
Doctors told my parents and family “I would never live to see my 18th birthday.”
I lived in the hospital for almost 2 years.
At age 2, I myself, ripped out my tracheostomy (which could have killed me)
My family rushed me to children’s hospital and the doctors decided to let the hole in my neck close and see what happens.
My doctors don’t know how I made it through the night or days after.
I went home after a couple weeks and that’s when I started living my life as a “normal” child.
All of my sisters were involved in dance classes, my parents( doctors didn’t agree) enrolled me in to classes.
        THATS WHERE MY LIFE CHANGED
Dance became my passion, along with gymnastics and musical theatre.
Something my family, doctors or even myself never thought I would EVER do.
On my 18th birthday it was a mixture of emotions.
I made a milestone that no one said I would ever see.
I competed in dance and gymnastics until I was 19 years of age as well as did over 60 musicals at my local theatre company.
I never thought I would ever have a boy love me because I had “too many problems” or even get married for that matter.
Fast forward, I am now almost 33 ( June .11th is my birthday)
Married for almost 8 years to my best friend.
Happy doesn’t even cover what I feel everyday waking up next to my love.
We may not have a “family” of our own but we are happy and in love over the moon with one another.

So why did I just ramble on with this?
Because I’m a MIRACLE and a SURVIVOR.
Even though I don’t remember much from my childhood and what I and my family had to endure, I have been fighter since my first breath.

I’M A SURVIVOR and I’VE MADE IT....
Just a little insight to my story. I left out some details but y’all get the idea. Hope this helps to feel why I write and my story.
 Apr 2018
Mazzy Ram
why don't i believe the things you say
why do i delve in your words
why do i starve for your affection
aware of it's cheap sentimental pieces
taken from your past loves,
recycled
to make me smile.
i hate that it works,
that your cheap sentimental affection
makes me weak
i forget about me
do you even care?
why. don't. i. believe. you. may. actually.
love. me.
care about me.
want to know me.
why is it hard for me to accept love
is it a self-fulling prophecy or
perhaps merely good acting
to satisfy your own needs
am i that crazy?
 Apr 2018
Umi
Out of what our hearts are made,
The sea of stars above our little heads is widely spread, expanded,
The river of the milkyway, seperating two lovers, with more stars,
All come within a clear, manifest orbit, bound to gravity and bounty,
A vally of natural nuclear fusion reactors, spreading light through the dark of the night, a play of beauty and might, on the ceiling of Earth,
All shining uninterruptedly, without the intruding light of the moon,
In the world of empty dreams, waiting to be filled with memories,
Clusters, binary, trinary stars with their satelites, dance as celestial beings through the infinity of space, all with grace, individuality, bliss
Heartfelt, past the luxury of luminosity and spinning alike wage wool
Because stars are, a magic mirror to the things we are, or want to be,
Weave the fate that you want to feel free, broken loose from the lies,
It is best to dance with me on these fantastic grounds here with me,
If we gather in a dark night, my dear knight, we can grasp fantasy,
Dear trasure mine, you're, a distant eniment galactic heavenly beauty
So shine on until you someday let go of this worldly life, my dearest,
As then I would like to meet you in the realm of the dead again,
In the loitering darkness one day.

~ Umi
 Apr 2018
LS
when a poet falls in love with you
you can never die
they will notice the way
you rub your palms and look down
when someone is angry at you
and the way you smirk
as you pull away from a kiss

they will notice how you can't sleep
without your body touching someone else's
how you never crease any pages of books
and how you close your eyes when you dance in your kitchen
with your record player on

they will find all of the words
that they see you as
and turn them into something beautiful

people say you die twice
once when you stop breathing
and when someone says your name
for the last time

if you fall in love with a poet
they will never stop
mentioning your name
you will be alive
for eternity
 Mar 2018
Caitlyn Emilie
It doesn't take back all the unforgiving words I've said, while I stand beneath the scorching water of the shower head.

Gentle kisses to my skin, a sting that feeds my adrenaline.

I'm just a stupid moth being drawn to the flame.

I get hurt, yet I still play the game.

She uses me and makes me feel empty.

I'm living in the carved out body of the person I used to be.

The mask I wear perceives the illusion that I am happy.

The loneliest I've ever felt when I hold her body in my hand.

Every night, she lures me into her trap like quicksand.

And I bleed for her again.
It’s 5am and I can’t sleep, so decided to write since it’s been a while..
 Mar 2018
Sarah Mann
This morning I woke up before 6am.
Too early for most people, myself included.
My brain was running wild last night.
I laid restless in my bed for what seemed like hours.
I tossed and turned and my thoughts were overrun with nightmares and horrors.
Turmoil took over my mind and stressed my heart out. I simply couldn’t sleep.
I took deep breaths, I counted sheep, I even drank a cup of tea.

Nothing worked. So, I continued to lay there too tired to move, far too awake to fall asleep.
Such a terrible state, caught in between two extremes each one refusing to give in.
Life had exhausted me and yet I still wasn’t allowed sleep.
I felt trapped, I felt powerless, I was defeated.
Somehow amidst my worrying, I had drifted off into slumber.
And that leads us to this morning.
This morning I woke up before 6am. Groggy, vision foggy, and most of all still tired.
I mean, could you blame me? I had gotten barely more than half
of the prescribed amount of sleep for someone my age.
I packed a bag for the adventures of the day, which for me meant about 30 pounds of textbooks.
I made a list of the work that still needed to be done.
Another list for how many minutes I had before the sun.
One by one, we loaded into the car, like soldiers preparing for war.
In some ways, we were readying our armor, but ours was metaphorical rather than literal.

My dad is always the first to the car. He likes to get ahead of the current.
My sister is second, she’s grumpy and doesn’t understand what’s going on.
Then myself, I’m tired but still excited for what’s to come.
We drive through the sleepy city, everyone’s preparing for their own day.
The sun itself has just risen and we watch the world awaken.
We have arrived, and it’s about 6:30AM.
You guessed it. It’s time for breakfast.

Scientifically speaking, breakfast is the most important meal of the day.
Personally speaking, nothing chooses the course of the day more than that first meal.
A cold unforgiving bowl of cereal doesn’t bring me happiness,
Like a warm bowl of fried rice does or like scrambled eggs with just a hint of cheese does.
Perhaps I am looking too far into the way certain breakfast foods makes me feel.
Regardless, we walk in and the environment shift affects all of our moods.

We made it to the front of the line and we order.
For my dad, eggs, bacon, and link sausage, a trio.
For my sister, in a state of dazed, orders the same.
For myself, the only one with originality deliberately chooses blueberry pancakes.
The warmth and comfort found in hot chocolate is exactly what I need right now.
So I order that too.
Sleepy and unaware, we trudge back to a table as a unit.
Our table is split between booth and chair and it’s located next to the window.
There is something poetic about the scene.
Maybe it’s the early light breaking through the glass.
Or maybe it’s rarity of the event, we usually eat breakfast at home.
This is a special occasion not for any reason other than it’s happened.
Moments of solemnity are interrupted by our waitress who brings a new day.
Found piled on top of flimsy paper plates is a sight of pure beauty.
Maybe it’s the lack of sleep, people tend to experience life more deliriously during this time.
But the food looks incredible. The pancakes are lightly coated with powdered sugar and
look like they had been pulled out of a magazine cover, as does the rest of the food.
My father and sister’s moods are lightened as food typically has that effect.
The hot chocolate is topped with whip cream and sprinkles something that I didn’t ask for and yet I’m endlessly grateful.
They bring a previously unexamined aspect of happiness to this already novelty of an outing.
Once the food arrives, I halt the instincts of everyone by forcing them to capture the moment.
I enjoy pictures because they are snapshots of reality, that can depict whatever you want.
They take time and turn it into moments, something truly innovative.
After the pictures, we eat, we make small conversation,
And most of all we enjoy each other’s company.
It’s similar to the breakfasts you often see out of movies, families living that idyllic lifestyle.

This morning I woke up before 6am
And only got 4 hours of sleep.
But despite all odds, this was a good morning.
Now I’m not sure if this change in mood is attributed solely to breakfast
Or other unmentioned factors but I do know this.
Physically, I feel tired.
Mentally, I feel better than I have in a while.
Perhaps, I can even persevere through the day.
I guess that’s just the power of blueberry pancakes.
2:33PM Wednesday, September 27, 2017
 Mar 2018
Mary Gay Kearns
My mother sat by her father's bed
As he took his last breath
It had taken all day
He had listened to the news at one
Then slowly gone down hill.

They called the local doctor
To give some relief
But he was out on a house call
Attending another ones grief
So hand in hand he left this land.

After the funeral at the top of the hill
In Christchurch graveyard
He was laid to rest, this being his will.
My mother, a person of wisdom and myth
Rang me each day to tell of her progress.

Before he left, her father had said
That if he could he would try
To let her know he had arrived
So everyday whilst on her walks
She looked for a sign that talked.

And then one day after quite a while
Found a lamppost and near the ground
Were written the words ,"I  am".
And this was enough to put her trust
In a life ever after and a father she loved.

Love Mary **
For my dear grandfather ,Frank, and my mother ,Grace Westbrook.
 Mar 2018
Chase Elsner
Bang!!!!!
Another silent gunshot falls on deaf ears
Draining one man of his life and another of his humanity
It’s a good thing it was a fair trade

The theory of equity dictates that only objects of equal value can be traded
This is proven in the taking of a life

When a gun is fired the one who shoots loses himself inside the bullet
Putting his soul into the destruction of another
The soul is then used to cancel out the soul of another

A soul for a soul is fair
The theory of equity is not

Will’s theory of contract law is a theory that dictates a contract can be made if both parties agree
If one party is a gun and the other the shooter then a contract is offered
The offer consists of one party carrying a soul in order to decimate the shell of the holder
When its terms are carried out a soul and a squirming carcass are found broken like shards of crystals

A soul for a shell is fair
Will’s theory is not

The theory of an implied contract is that an agreement can be formed informally and swiftly where both parties understand the terms without them being expressly stated
If a person is involved in gang related activities then they know that when a rival gang appears no one will walk away
The offer is swift and signaled by one of the parties drawing the .45 caliber firearms and it is accepted when the other group fires

A gang for a gang is fair
Implied contracts are fair

It’s a shame life isn’t
The theory of life is that **** happens and you’re supposed to go on like nothing else matters
The theory of life is that we stand by as obligatory witnesses to events that destroy the people who we are and who we were
The theory of life is that no matter what happens we are not allowed to bend the rules around the only two truths that we have or will ever experience
The theory of life is that we will also have to live with the theory of death

Why is it that the theory of life is the same as the theory of death?
Because they are equitable they must be of equal value
Because we either breathe or not we have agreed to one
Because no one will explain what either one is, it is implied

The theory of life and death is that in the end there is nothing left
The theory of life and death is that you can exist freely in either
The theory of life and death is that you can never exist in both
The theory of life and death is that you are nothing if you’re seen from the other plane
The theory of life and death is that you are nothing

The truth of nothing is that we have no control
The truth of nothing is that we are nothing

Bang!!!!!
Another silent gunshot falls on deaf ears
Draining one man of his life and another of his humanity
It’s a good thing it was a fair trade
 Mar 2018
nick armbrister
We Belong Here

Oh how we fly up away from the earth

A great nice happy feel good joyous rapture

Letting go of the ground's grip to ascend

Up into the blue blue blue where God lives

Along with Mother Nature and her elements

Nothing but beauty exists here in all ways

Ferocious to sublime to indifferent it's all here

Up where the angels live higher than cloud number nine

This is a special place where change is constant

Each moment leading to the next and next and next

Falling raindrops making a rainbow making a cloud

Chaos is here the Butterfly Effect hurricane flappy insect wings

Wrecking your town as you cower from nature's wrath

Yet when you fly in your little aeroplane she's fine

The wind thru the wires and sun on a lake oh how pretty!

The joy of flight and freedom of the skies all illusions

Greater than love and life and death and all things

Except the sky for here we belong and gasp in awe

The future is above us and we belong here here here

For this is our home...
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