The moon will get more blurred, not less

and more and more i'll look in vain
for edges
and reasons

old errors lose their lines and shapes

leave flashes, not whole cycles
there are peaks
and troughs

i see how all is blending thick

mixing, slurring, soup-of-lifeing
is it done yet?
is it right?

i stir, i eat, i look, i sleep

i dream of moons that fill the sky
with brightness
with courage

They say we are reckless
Stupid.
Throwing everything away for one thing.
But we are but dreamers.
Dreaming of love and the idea of something binding us together.
Our hearts ache for that.
They hunger.
Thats why they beat out of our chest and naw at our ribs because we want what we need and we can't always get what we want.
So we become reckless,
stupid
Wild hearts
-Kennedy Grace

They saw her form so raw
Heart beats wildly one more time
Oneness is the form
Passion was their battle cry ...

Love was their steadfast armor
Cradle each other in their thoughts
When they saw the other
Inviting the other in their dreams ...

Now,all the aches of dripping words
Cry for the other in this world
With loving arms she did come
Before the waking moment was done ...

When they breathe each other so true
Their sleepy eyes lock once more
Their one power that makes them weep
Passion arises one more time...

This was their Battle cry...

by Debbie Brooks 2014

Still with me his memory stays
A boy I knew in childhood days
On street corner he bore the sun
From rain emptied road didn’t run!

They called him ******* up bit insane
His skin was numb sense felt no pain
Else why he would just aimless roam
Most of time outside of home!

If asked his name in whispered hum
Would say I don’t know knows my mum
What’s two plus two if asked some fool
His answer was not taught in school!

To a school he was though never sent
His class was road book firmament
All he knew was that syllabus
His own riddles and plus minus!

He was known as good for none
Except for pranks and some fun
Ill clad uncared like an urchin
There wasn’t a home with a boy like him!

Woke me one night footsteps and shouts
In a neighborhood house fire had broken out
Amid billowing smoke and leaping flame
The crowd was crying out the boy’s name!

He had gone in there without a thought
The fire’s fury he was afraid not
It seemed so silly this heroic feat
But the boy you know was too ******!

To this day it haunts me to know
Why he did that what to show
I heard the buzz rumors were rife
He had gone in there to save a cat’s life!

The house is now silent,
as if always it was this calm -
all asleep, all tidily done -
and in a thoughtful gesture
she reaches for the quilt,
grabbling for the needle minder.

In her mind, a coloured trickle
of threads draws upon the
inlaid tree branch - oh, the blossom
would happen before us,
would we look it trough her eyes
- as she picks a flaming orange
for the feather stich
and an ocean blue one
for a stich of satin feeling

and - there!, it starts showing,
the bird she nested for so long,
that bird bursting into songs
- now and forever catching your eye
here, molded by her hands.

It is so late, now.
Slowly, the unfinished quilt
is folded, threads and needle kept away.
The bird in esquisse flutters in her heart,
watching her stepping down
into the dark frown of the bedroom.

She comes to me every night...
When all is asleep with stars lit yonder.
Comes to me with subtle might
Peeking fiendishly from darkness's cover

Await such time she'd choose to show
Await the chance to finally take.
Ready to pounce like a well tensioned bow
Arrow-like talons, ever honed to stake.

Awake or asleep, she would come without fail.
Creep is her gait; this shadow clad figure.
Always a ***** in my impervious mail.
Claiming her wants with ferocious fervour.

Deemed to be strong, easier to succumb.
Don't fight...don't struggle... Don't call for aid...
Just wait and will yourself numb
She'd come regardless of prayers that's said.

She was here with me last night
In bed, I stared at a being that's faceless...
And my heart wrenched tight.
Gripping and feeding me senseless...

Soon as she came, she left but not before
Siphoning the good and replacing with dread...
Stole was what she did; left me wanting more...
Once deed is done, into the dark she fled.

I know her all too well,
Nocturnal guest that I unknowingly invite
Her intentions to incite, not quell
Send me spiralling through emotional blight.

Day will recede, making room for dark
She'll come; swift and without sound.
She'll arrive majestic; inflicting her mark
I'll wait for her, ready and unbound.

Looking forward to her return
This silent foe whom I find familiar.
With every touch I cringe and burn
Oh secret friend whom I'm beginning to savour...

She is synonymous with various names
Each would bear the likeness of semblance
Let fly her cloak of not dissimilar aims
Endearingly I call her...,

Despondence...

I told her if she stayed I wouldn't write another word.
Id take every notepad hiding in my closet and watch it burn.
She looked at me bewildered.."Now wouldn't that be absurd?,"

So I explained..
How every phrase i jot down is rooted in pain..

Stemming from grief..
Lack of belief..
Lack of understanding love outside of the sheets.
Reminiscing of a time when the piece would bring peace.

When all I ever longed for was a piece of mind.
but longing doesn't exist in a land before time.

and that is where every single one of my lost pages resides in...
a land lost, never to be seen again yet glowing in a pile of debris like diamonds...

So you see if you stay.,

The demons that keep me up at night would all disappear.
In consequence I wouldn't write my memories in fear..
that perhaps one day ill lose my mind along a pier.

Don't ask me if she stayed.


-afj