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 May 2014
PrttyBrd
i  smile at the thought of your eyes
and the sound of your smile
and the warmth of your voice
yes, at that i smile
51614
I believe
that One who cannot handle
One's beliefs being challenged
did not arrive at them by genuine means.
Their beliefs be not authentic,
but are, rather, artifacts of people
who "know better."

Better; prithee,
better for whom?

I believe
they've been conditioned
to believe in such a way;
Pavlov's Dogs, but via spiritual food;
hence such unwillingness
to discuss the reasons:
they know them not.

They were merely imbued with such zealous belief
as if, hypothetically, by some socially sanctioned cult,
rather than encouraged to think for themselves,
arriving at authentic philosophical conclusions.

But, then again,
authentic philosophy is impossible to control from the outside, in.

Aye, *there's the rub.
This is about no particular school of thought, simply the unwillingness to philosophize about one's own philosophy.
It just so happens that many schools of thought exclude personal philosophers. Hence my distaste for them, and hence this write.
 May 2014
undefined
Alone with my breath rising through the air,
my shadow dark,
thick.

Street lamps buzz,
the ground
creeks and crackles.

[far from the Oklahoma and Arkansas wood...]

I shouldn't start here,
I should go back before
where someone different,
but similar enough to me, stood.  

A far long ago lost season of a life,
that is perhaps where
I should begin the
story I now write.

We'll begin by sitting at a table where a man,
defeated,
had given up
trying.

And decided
one night,
that from his Hellish Head
there would be a final untwining.

He came to the next morning
in a pool of blood and *****, and sunshine like angel wings.
There he was left an indeterminate impression of unburdening.
(like he'd simply downloaded everything.)

Of the substantial problems, issues  [troubles]
that had carried him up to the dark decision,
he had
miraculously been
somehow, in some way,
over-ridden.

.. A new time had dawned, and
as directionless as it was,
this anomalous sense of
nothingness
and desire had been born
from the mud.

A low hunger for life crept,
not exactly a "spiritual awakening,"
but connections prior and all hurt had gone,
[like a deep brain cleansing.]

With new empty eyes
like a child now seeing, everything
that was before, died
that morning.
... but the man, of course,
kept on breathing.

He went out on a search to find what heart, if any , he had left.

A semester in school showed sparking a writing interest, but
from everything else, still
[felt disconnected].

The season of winter was upon me and
the darkness of the nights
began their first lessons.

It was time to move on,
though to where (?)
was the question.

A trip to the ocean to let loose ,
place of final forgetting.
Then serve out a warrant in Texas
spend a short time in a cell reading.

Set free a new man,
a new season now rested.
so began a new life where previously
only demons lay infested.

Searching for a path,
something far from worthless,
returning to childhood hometown with
little vested sense of
definite purpose.

Floundering in personal relationships,
finding comfort in the bed of many,
never a real connection. ...'Till                                                    
    ­        
                                                   passing by a street one night,
listening to the sounds of life
and the evening's music,
my eyes
met a gaze that sparked my spirit's complete
attention.

A
dark gray
empty void burst
with color and life
at my ear's first listen

to this siren with midnight hair,
she lit a flame that did fan
lifting this shell of a man                                           
                  ­           out of perdition.

In her arms,
in her eyes,
tangled within
a body of sighs
[lies]

I found hope,
perhaps for the first time.

We set out for the summer,
and a new season of my life, with
care free adventure consuming our minds.

She gifted me music,
( the kind essential to life.)
As important for my well being, also
she gave me a write .  

...the right to love again
all risk taken and heartache aside,
she showed me the sort of feelings
that make struggle worth the fight.

Seasons abiding joyously on, 'till
the signs did change, and we headed back
to the only place that made sense to call a home.
And there, came at last, as expected,
the end of my love affair.
We saw to our separate ways,
"a' la fin," she did break my heart,
but I had learned a great and profound lesson.
.... I had dared to love so deeply, and without condition .....

With no regret I tell you now
that one of the most wonderful days
of my new life
will always be that early spring moment
when the sun in her soul
first shined through me.
... I will love her always,          
I know that.


So, where do I find myself now? Living,
connecting, growing,
learning, loving,
engendering a path all my own,
new every day and
brilliantly daunting
at every conversion.


This is
My story unfinished
Of life and changing
like Music
in song
so ..... unfinished ??
[ goodnight]
 May 2014
Bjørn O Holter
Hoppy demon, happy wizard
Turning men into mice.
Rendering even the humblest man
a hero in disguise.
A little poem about beer
 May 2014
Lana
A quiet fury
blossoms in my chest,
an orchid of rage
unfolds in silence,
poisonous and strangely beautiful,
creamy petals strain against
the cavity where I once
kept my heart.
 May 2014
SG Holter
Today was a good day.
I had one worry; it died.
My soul lost weight; my heart
Found its way back up
From the bottom of my belly.

That, and the sun
Shone all day.
We're not spoiled with that
Here in the semi-arctics.

I didn't go hungry for a
Split-second.
I laughed until I cried
Several times at work.

Every face I saw on the street
Had a feeling of friendliness
To it.

With days like these; who needs
Dreams?
I'll sleep like a fat, old cat tonight.
Content and unafraid
Of tomorrow.
 May 2014
SG Holter
My brother has fewer
Vices than most.

Hands that need to
Create non-idly

Folding reciepts; wrappings;
Pieces of unappealing waste

Into origami -by now nearly
Unconsciously-

Turning nothing to something
And leaving behind him

Little signatures of beauty
Where less was before he

Unbored himself. Such healthy
Opposites to the cigarette butts

And crumpled discardments
Of us other; lesser men of art.

My brother has the vices
Of Nature. Of little gods.

We need him more than
He'll ever care to grasp.
 May 2014
Fenix Flight
woah that guy is so huge
he could flatten me like a pancake.
Hmm now i want pancakes*

Thus the tradition of Ihop began.

Me and hawk
In the dead of night
Get in his beat up old ford
And drive
To the nearest
24/7
Ihop

Sure it seems stupid
Hell it is stupid
But to me
It was everything

Because in that car
With a man
Everyone is scared of
With a man
That is so much more to me then a friend
It meant
I
Was
Safe
 May 2014
Elise
I need you to understand that
the divine does not become divine
by sitting at desks
my double helix had light shining through the cracks
but that only explains why
there is an ache in my fingers
and a need to run in my feet
as long as there is not only darkness I can make my own way

a spotlight illuminates the desk
at which I sit
I am a soul being carried in a cradle
and my hands keep slipping
my eyes are starting to blur
and they just keep watching
sitting in a sea
whispering
shouting
I can't even hear them

I am writing a script at age 17 that I will refer to again
and again
until I am dead
I am writing my future
and I'm not sure who my arms think they are
but they write me entering stage left
and when I exit stage right my cells will have replaced themselves
and my arms will be different arms
the only thing I can hope for is that they will have held what they needed to

I do not know the girl I am writing about
but she knows all about me
she doesn't hate me
I know this because she smiles when she thinks of me
she loves me
but I am her burden
my decisions
affect her decisions
and that is so heavy for my pen
I still see her light shining slightly through the cracks

she will whisper to me
farther along
"It's perfectly okay"
"I was afraid too"
and we will take solace in our decisions
together

The script I'm writing is for both of us
I just hope we can meet
in the middle
I am looking at colleges
I am writing my script
I am afraid
 May 2014
Marzanna
i am sexually attracted to pencils.
get this to trend
 May 2014
SG Holter
Poor girl.
In love with Poet.

Poet and man; angry at times;
Firing insults you can't

Possibly
Counter.

Beating you black and blue
With flowers
And feathers.

Poor girl.
Loved by Poet.

Loved and held closest;
First to fall victim

To every sudden movement
In matters of hearts
And hands.
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