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 Jan 2017
Lucrezia M N
There are fears
I can't stand for
when there are reasons
to get out from under them

We cast stones
and hide the hand
for there are chances
To find we're doing too well

Lying to ourselves
wanting it all here and now
complaining about frustration
but so afraid of existencially change

Scared of the truth
we don't want to know,
carrying our heavy brains along
that feel so full and despoiled the same

So high and dry
once roots pull us deeper
we're too fooled and stuck
But eyes start whining shouting out loud

We pretend to care
of our mistreated spirit
but it's left alone fixing us
spilling visions of good things

bigger and closer than they really were
somehow kept in mind by heart
because being made of love
we're meant to see and feel
and be who we really are.
We do things in life that make us who we are, that's why we change, but please keep in touch with your true self which grows up with you, getting older and wiser as you do. Be true, search for the truth, give truth, don't act like you think others want you to be, don't do things they want you to do just to be accepted... don't make anybody fool... it's not good for them and for you first of all.
I was so craving for writing a new piece that maybe it is not really good... But inspiration and intentions are authentic.
 Jan 2017
Sjr1000
Waking up one morning
It's a normal kind of day
Only there are bulldozers
on their way

It goes this way:
At the end of your driveway
down to the right
in front of the picket fence
The land is graded
a horizontal drill brought in
made to feel at home

You see,
We you me may own the land
But the mineral rights are theirs

A concrete utility structure goes up,
in what do you think?
About three weeks?

Chemicals are shot
horizontally under the land
under the house
to release the gas from the sand
While the ground water
is fearfully shivering
it knows
its days are numbered.

The concrete utility chimney
pouring out chemical smoke
24 hours a day.

The  County says,
"What do you expect us to do?"
The State says
"***** You "

Cancer clusters
Sick kids
Chemical water tasting very weird

Guess what?

Whether it be our 89,000
189,000 or 889,000 dollar
American dream home
The dog is going to be
taking a **** in the backyard
claiming ownership.

Welcome to LA too
No matter where you are
Every other day
the earth is shaking
buildings tumbling
Dance Dance Dance

Dots on a map
thousands of them
all around us
coming our way.

Better take a drive
next time on talk radio
"Drill baby Drill"

All hail Exxon
Cars love Shell Gasoline

The old USA
******* gas
And it sure ain't nitrous
cars idoling on a stop and go freeway
finding our true purpose
a grounded oil derreck
for the Koch Brothers
He who pays the piper calls the tune
Oh yeah
Drill baby Drill
I'm heading up Highway 101

The Earth hot and *****
for a new life form

Welcome to the new world order
Welcome to the new USA
Purloined, poisoned, polluted
The United Petro States of America.

Hey Hey Hey
"New world order" of course, Bruce Springsteen, the Boss.
If you live near one of these friggin fracking structures, love to hear about it.

Sometimes you gotta write a protest song.
 Jan 2017
South by Southwest
I tripped and fell into temptation
The hole was exceptionally deep
The futher that I fell
the deeper I would sink
I built stairs
that were made up of all colors of lies
But the more that I made
the top was never nye
But the hole was much deeper
than all the stairways made to Heaven
I needed a friend to save me
one who converts sin into salvation
from bread that must be unleavened
 Jan 2017
Valsa George
Sitting in a restaurant
Over a cup of coffee
And silently having our dinner
With hardly anything exciting
Either to brag or blather
My eyes got hooked
On the occupants of the table, next

Two kids, seated on small chairs
A boy and a girl, obviously a pair of twins
Adorably cute, their father, so young
Who having placed the order
Were in wait for their turn

Carrying a tray, as the waiter arrived
With something of the plainest kind,
Small cartons of French fries,
Bottles of sauce and plain ice cream
The little faces gleamed in excitement
Their beaded eyes riveted,
And their heads bobbed in happy approval

As their Dad opened the carton
And placed before them
French fries sprinkled with some sauce
The children, sprang to their feet
With an upsurge of delight,
Jumping up and down,
Clapping their hands and shouting!

At a small distance, sat we
‘Solemnly’ consuming our meal
With nothing to titillate our palette
Or excite our toned nerves

I thought;
How, in course of time,
Everything becomes a routine ritual
And what stark difference
Between our subdued composure
And the overwhelming excitement of kids!
They haven’t learned yet
That such open expression of emotions,
Is not in keeping with accepted norms

To what peaks of joy, they get catapulted
With mere trifles and silly baubles
While we remain ever at the bottom
Unable to be lifted up

Is this what we call aging?

Or is it

The death of spring
The summer’s dirge
Autumn’s mellowing
Or the chill wave of winter’s blast??
I don't know if it is a poem or a simple narration! But this can be read like a story. Life presents so many such interesting scenes if we are watchful ! Observing children's artless behavior is always a pleasure!
 Jan 2017
The Dedpoet
Notes, musical keys, rythmic changes-
A modification of the Word
Which purifies her soulfulness
And expresses clarities in the fog,
The hint of Dickinson in her words,
The scent of reality in her reflection,
     The words become a path:

One wet summer I heard your words,
The vibrant sky breaths
And the sun became as embers
Of poetic sacrifice,
Through reading your poem
I became as a double being,
Movement began
A sudden dispersion of birds
Followed by the Humm of water
On stone,
Murmurs of infinite moments
Painting them all like some
Poet Saint,
The words became a lineage
To the unfathomable depths of you,
In the helix of hours
The beat of the sea and the stilled
Shimmers of light on water can be found
In the edification of her poetry;

Master strokes,
Like a naked liberation
Of a diamond body beyond
A turquoise sunset,
A co concubine of words
That form constellated meanings
Among the pnumbra,
Reminiscent of the March of hours
In which the words come
And a fixed glitter in her eyes form,
The form of woman,
A form of dizziness
Like a dance of wind and water,
I read between the words,

    Vicki,
         Vicki,

I imagine a lamp in the middle
Of the night,
A pen and a womans scorching
Words as God had spoken
The First Word,
Like a moon in heat in midday's
Grasp, she counters every word
Of expression
Like a cell for my tortured soul,
She became my solitary star,
I wander in her hours,
Hungry for more words,
A memory inventing itself,
Masterfully,
She makes the sky walk the land.
For my infinitely talented friend Vicki.
 Jan 2017
Luna Lynn
i know i love you
and i know we're
different
i know we're strong
so please just
listen
i know it's hard
it's life
they say
so let's try and
cherish today
i don't like
talks that
expose our flaws
imperfections
is not who we are
we are warmth
we are laughter
we are one
you are my life
i am your moon
you are my sun
having moments just like
day and night
we see rain
we feel thunder
but the rotation
it's just right

insecurities
dreams
hopes
aspirations
will **** us both
if we don't seek affirmation
we've both been
broken
down to the ash
on our knees
we've both given to God
our needs
and turn to each other
to be free
so you go be you
and i'll go and be me
remember in who
they become
it will still be "we"
cast away your doubts
i will bury mine below
i choose to love you forver
and forever you'll know
(Maxwell 2017)
 Nov 2016
ryn
"Mere seconds in time
and
specks in space"
-
Kristy Renae Dalton*


We are seconds and specks,
you and I...

We meet, crash into each other,
mingle and coalesce.
Not knowing where we'll be
in the next.

We exist in one another...
But never together.

A perpetual dance
between time and matter.
An eternal struggle
to share a plane.

You and I...
We live as nothing but
mere seconds in time
and specks traipsing in space.
Thank you Kristy for inspiring this piece.
 Nov 2016
Luna Lynn
not good enough to bear your ring
not well enough to birth your child
not good enough seasoning
to taste i see
sweet baby stay awhile

you see that sun is rising again
and setting on the mountain tops
it rained last night and the dew drops
are stuck like glue on the windowsill
where your pie is warm and waiting still
but the crust is too soft to make you smile

so i throw my apron back on to sift my fingers in old flour trying to make anew
what's left from the recipe before
an uneaten slice or two
satisfied my buds to center core
but you always hold up your hand;
no more

i stare out the window at all these pies lined up one after the other and wonder what kind of baker do i need to be
to make you eat all the efforts that reach for your belly
though they never reach for me

it's a love i'll never get but i won't fret
sweet baby stay away ahile
i'm not ready for you to go just yet
not good enough for your garden
not good enough for your life
but i must be good enough for something

we watched it rain another night.
(C) Maxwell 2016
 Nov 2016
South by Southwest
Old age turns the page . . .
the leaf thrives from underneath
Days are made out
of hollow light . . .
night now remnants
of silence in grief

The air I breathe
once was your life
Yet our blood never mingled
Upon every page turns
the green leaf in air
The binding spine . . .
the trunk's despair
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