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 Jun 2014
Jonny Angel
Invoke the gods
darling
& sit
in reverence
on my prayer-mouth,
let me taste
your invocation,
you and me,
we are the creation.
 Jun 2014
sarah bell
my mother once warned me of
addiction
in the form of a bottle
but never told me about
you
and your pale blue eyes would
drive me to every AA meeting
I've ever been to
(s.j.b)
 Jun 2014
Trader Tim
Blindfolded I look forward
To the blessings of death
Beyond my ignorance
There nothing left...
 Jun 2014
Jonny Angel
I can write you
the sexiest ditty
in the world,
create sensual imagery
beyond your wildest dreams
& I do mean,
your wildest dreams.

But sadly
that's about
all I'll ever be able to do,
unless.....unless...

O darling,
if I could
hear you scream,
I'd pen an epic!
 Jun 2014
Nat Lipstadt
Lord:

no bequest requested.
no grant, no teach,
no need or greed asked
just a hey listen up,
if your attention is elsewhere

this is an
all-on-my-own
prayer that
my eyes only utter,
my tongue,
self-silenced,
can only watch
and must approve

in fact,
this is more
of a post
than a prayer,
updating you
on the state
of what we Earth temporaries
call the heart, mind, soul
and even our,
your-designed
crafted carrier,
my body

Mine enemies call me
cursed, embittered,
they are right - but fools,
they are
so much more than wrong,
for in this they err grievous,
for they cannot see their own
bile provisioning their end

ask for no interference
from the sidelines
neither from the
sapphire mother sky
that raised me up gloriously
this morning

nor the emerald earth
that this day
both gives and gets
common bounty
gives me sustenance,
as much spiritual
as grained cereal delights

lest you think this
just one more
me-centric rants,
let us recall this prayer,
is his very own,
prayer of gratitude

woman's head
rests on my chest,
her blonde highlights,
highlight our bed
and our
life

take and tuck her tresses
from eyes and forehead,
gentle them into place,
behind her ear,
and my hand journeys on
to the skin,
flesh of her backbone,
where my fingers
spread wide,
five messengers unique,
advising all of the 120 provinces of her
heart, mind, soul and body,
she is my beloved,
and I pray,
I am hers

learning still to
live with my means,
such as they are,
sometime mean,
sometimes extraordinaire

even this skill,
to express

is a gratitude
that though
comes and goes
like summer breezes
that as now we pray,
cools my AM coffee
while studying the
patterned mystery
of the bay's
Ave Maria waves
from that
dock-by-his-name

where my heart, mind, soul
drink wet inspiration
from the still-oak-tree'd-strong-surfaced waters,
the blue glue of
our common delighted,
uncommon existence

this skill,
at this moment mine,
to share and
not to keep,
for have I not,
been blessed,
by comrades-in-arms
that kneel beside me,
asking, imploring
to be stronger yet,
for their sakes,
for them!
I pray for
best they-can-muster
sustenance of peace
of heart, mind, soul
and body

here now,
my shills,
my failing skills
cannot help express
in new ways,
a gratitude
that has a shapeless shape,
no measurement app enabled
for their comfort,
our comfort,
best grasped as
an unbounded divinity,
how so I wish I could pray for them better


focus this prayer
on the good ones,
who so greatly honor us
with a greater-than-a-creator,
gift glorious of
friendship

this walnut crack'd shell,
this container ship of
heart, mind, soul,
here there,
a few leaks sprung,
no nicotine patches
to cover

this dented car,
this dented body,
new dent every day
from only-you-know-where
still gets me there,

but
other than taking care better,
it plods along and houses
the rearrangement of this prayer's words,
and that is what is called
plenty good enough,
self-sufficient

prayers that are too long
go to the back of line,
so here we be,
but here we do not wait!


for prayers of gratitude
are instantaneous fulfilled,
and thus granted even before
they are completed
the love I feel for all of the people, friends and poets in my life that give me
their best, their perspective...they know who they are..
7:32am on the dock by the bay, another blessing for which I don't have the words but keep on trying...they are..see below...
PostScript -  the pleasure of your affection for this writ, palpable and heart pounding but it only reflects the spirit that working wordsmiths share in loving camaraderie so deep in the hidden roots of this place. For which I swear I will never to cease to write upon this favorite optic topic a loving challenge...very humbly do I thank you
 Jun 2014
Ghazal
You were a little too loud
A little too dismissive
A little too upfront
Forever eager to point out-
Especially among onlookers-
The million ways I was wrong.
I admit your harsh noise
Almost intimidated me enough to
Cave and give in,
Until I craned my ears a bit more
And heard the hollow bellows
Of the clanging insecurities
You'd hidden within.
And then I learnt to not give a ****.
 Jun 2014
Ghazal
Hey! Did I just put on my best makeup
And my prettiest dress
Only to have you stare endlessly at
That one loose tress
Of mine and describe it as
"Exquisitely enchanting"?

*The blessed misfortunes of having
A True Blue Romantic darling
 Jun 2014
Ghazal
That sight of the scars
Painting her young wrists
Shook me with with disbelief
Yet overtook me with jealousy

I'd never be able to express pain
Like she did in her poetry

The crispest of papers
The finest of inks would falter
In front of that beautiful, mangled mess
Her smudged, blood-tinged words would author
 Jun 2014
Camellia-Japonica
My spirit is one that has been through much.
My eyes have witnessed too many tears.
My heart has ached, and felt like granite.
My soul is imprisoned by good and evil.

And, yet I feel a spiritual need to cling to hope.
Spirituality is there for those who have been to Hell and back,
(So they say)
I've glimpsed Hell in my family, through secrets and lies,
they multiply, until you lose count.

Now, I wasn't beaten, molested or deprived,
I just had to live in a village where everyone knew everything.
About you, your family, your soul. Imagine that.
No freedom to be unique. To be you.

You kick, you scream, you try to be free, to flee,
but, the village brings you back,
time and time again.
It feeds off your fear, your hate.

Village life is not quaint, picturesque,
or even idyllic, it's full of grudges,
jealousy, hate and even ******,
(or two)

Families feuding over long forgotten grudges.
Families related, through marriage and hate.
Families haunted and taunted by their past.
Families dying with secrets on their lips, and in their hearts.

Along with this came religion,
as many chapels as pubs.
And as many ghosts as the living.
Walk through my mind, walk through my village.

Come, meet the dead
© JLB
21/06/2014
 Jun 2014
Sam Kirk
When I think about our future,
I think about lounging on the couch, Sunday afternoon,
watching our favorite t.v. show and eating pizza hut in our underwear; because we were too lazy to cook dinner and we like being comfy.
I think about playing hide-n-seek, tag, and many other childish games because deep down we'll never truly grow up.
I think about having our own privacy,
exploring each others bodies like they're undiscovered art at the bottom of the ocean.
I think about having to wake up early for work,
how we'd kiss goodbye and say "I love you."
(we'd always say "I love you." too much)
I think about how I'd always call during lunch breaks,
and if you happened to not answer I'd leave a voicemail just so you could hear my voice and know I was thinking of you.
I think about getting home late, running through the front door and yelling "Honey, I'm home!" at the top of my lungs; being showered in kisses and being carried to bed.
I think about how I'd make up silly rules like "No clothes allowed!"
how you'd just laugh at me for being such a dork,
but you'd still follow the rule.
You'd strip down to nothing then pick me up and carry me to our bedroom and take my clothes off of me,
laughing when you fumbled with my bra strap and me laughing along as I helped you.
I think about how after making love we'd just lay there together and sleep.
Two messes all tangled up in bed sheets.
I think about how some nights we'll keep each other up late at night,
talking for hours about anything and everything.
I think about how we'll treat each other like we're a king and a queen living in a castle for all eternity.
I think about how we'll fight- not a lot, but believe me we will.
Though of course, with a fight, will always come a make-up.
And boy, will we make-up.
We'll cry and hold each other no matter how tough life gets.
We're invincible, me and you.
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