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 Jul 2016
spysgrandson
the waters ring red
with the ferrous clay from these plains
brutish brown on cloud cluttered days
caramel during floods

my feet know nothing
of water moccasins, though
a rattler nipped an ankle on these banks
a million years ago

feet don't recall
they slip into the cool tickling stream
innocent, not looking for a Baptismal
though the serpents are ever present

slithering in the depths
just beyond my eyes, only a few silt filled steps
from my ten toes, waiting--wanting fallible
flesh to slip within their sights

where there will be no
original naked temptation, only the striking,
the ******* venom, and the second fall
from grace, without woman to blame
 Jul 2016
spysgrandson
anonymous winds
bend tall Timothy grasses,
wake rabbits napping
in the brush

they ripple the surface
of the stock tanks, tickle the haunches
of the beasts who wade there
to slurp the tepid waters

they birth red dust devils
for my eyes to follow, as they scud
through mesquite, and hopscotch over canyons
older than time

one day, soon, they will blow
over a shallow earth bed; I will not hear
their sibilant song, but my sleep will be deep,
unperturbed by their mystic music
 Jun 2016
spysgrandson
in the clouds, he saw
the face of god--heavy brow, two eyes, nose, mouth,
and long gray beard; then only one eye, nose,
half a mouth, as sunlight

shafts illuminating the visage,
began melting it away, until only
an eye remained, one he yet claimed
was god, watching

over us, deciding  
whether lightning would strike, or skies would clear blue,
revealing heavens he believed awaited us all
for the fall meant nothing to him
This should be a link to the photo I took that inspired the verse:  
https://www.flickr.com/photos/18878095@N07/27921876145/in/dateposted-public/
 Jun 2016
PrttyBrd
Misty sunrise beautiful
Pale gold and icy blue
Steeped in iridescence
Each color alive within the other
Today I saw love
And it felt like you
62516
Beware:
some who try to hug you,
to pat you on the back-
may well be the very ones
fostering patient and tretcherous daggers
just itching to attack
A paraphrased passage
from Sun Tzu's immortal and timless classic
"The Art of War."

Be cautious of the sword concealed by a smile.
 Jun 2016
spysgrandson
some claimed the paddies smelled like
fetid fishes, *****; some said like the dung of oxen, peasants
or other beasts who squatted there  

others whispered the fields reeked of death  
while I found no odor to be grander evidence
of life’s languorous longing for itself  

we marched those mired moors, as hunters
of invisible prey--ourselves too being stalked, or worse,
mocked by other hairless apes,  

who like we, sought light, but
could divine darkness far better, for we
knew little of night, its sacred riddles  

some said those places reeked  
of rotted flesh, the festering relics of our deeds
I inhaled deeply, slowly  

only rich, fecund stories
were revealed to me, ones I fear yet
this silent night
 Jun 2016
maura
A gas giant
nine times the size
of the planet we call home.
175,000 miles of ice rings,
spanning almost the same distance
between our world and the moon.
With the ability to contain
764 Earths,
Saturn makes our planet seem
microscopic.
Our world
is so large to us,
yet so small
to other planets.
And even smaller
to the universe.
Seemingly endless solar systems,
galaxies,
and light years
composed of dark energy
and matter
make you look
insignificant.
this is another poem i wrote last semester and it's about saturn, my favorite planet.
 Jun 2016
wes parham
The reflecting pool lay long and flat, a massive mirror door...
I stepped up to it's concrete edge, and looked down to it's floor.
I saw pale tiles beneath the water, some pennies, a dime, a nail.
I dropped my thoughts beneath this sea, which quickly grew in scale.

One foot of water became, thus, ten... A hundred... thousand... more.
My view was that of one who's soaring many miles above some shore.
I was, at once, consumed with fear at how this made me feel,
That is to say, I convinced myself that this height was truly real.

That was when I dreamed I fell, but before I'd be no more,
I had much time to think awhile on what had come before.
I had much time to regret the past, and dread what was yet to be,
Saw images of fortune, ruin, the dust of you; the ashes of me.

Small joys helped to bridge the gaps where fear eroded hope,
The terror of  my empty room, the makeshift hanging rope.
My thoughts of death reminded me that the moment should be much more,
I opened my eyes to the rushing air, my throat felt raw and sore,
Looked down to see a blaze of leaves and the fast approaching forest floor.

Asleep, I fell, through sunlit leaves that seemed to fill the space,
Awake, I stood beside the pool when you had touched my face.
Something in your eyes was telling me you were concerned,
You somehow knew the man who left was not the man who returned.

We stood at the shore then, you and I, expressing futures yet to pass,
Fishing out mythologies and illusions that might last.
Our mouths were full of histories and secrets that we bared,
The reassuring comfort that illusions can be shared.

Look east and see the brightening sky, but not yet see the sun,
Look west and see the shrinking black,
The place where last night's stars have run.

Look up and see the limbs and leaves of the high forest canopy,
The ones above the gloom that's half obscuring you and me...
A bright gold glow suffuses them, but only way up high,
Where they already see the dawn, and the guiding star that fills their sky.

I'm reminded by these tall trees rising high into the air,
When shadow darkens my small world, but light is everywhere,
You do not need to see the sun to know that it is there.

So as I lifted up my face,
To where sunlight paints the highest tree,
In this expansive time and place,
I felt the same; beautiful and free.
Read here by the author:
http://wesparham.tumblr.com/post/145722638622/tell-me-what-this-poem-means-to-you-this-is-a

This is a collaboration with a poet friend.  We have traded original titles and tasked each, the other, with writing anything at all under that title.  No rules, just the title as a touchstone; a point of departure.  My friend's titles are sometimes long and descriptive. This one made me think of a sensory experience I have had in dreams and waking hours, too, where I play with the reference of world scale inside of my head, my relative spatial perception becoming expansive and colossal.    The title evoked the memory of this feeling, so I set about describing it in verse.
 Jun 2016
spysgrandson
his dream was always of a cart, carrying
limbs like those in so many slaughter houses
dragged along by two oxen, blind, backs whipped
by a golem whose red eyes illuminated
the path, the cart's carrion, and even
the black sky

when he would awake, he would feel
ravenous, not sated by his breakfast mush
or his noon repast--only when he sat for dinner
would he be full, after he drowned himself in wine, and gorged himself on a feast of flesh, charred yet
dripping with blood

the same sanguine soup, perchance,
he saw flowing from the wagon of his dreams,
the same as the crimson ooze from the humps of
the beaten beasts who transported
the ghoulish cargo to some crypt
in the greedy earth

to someplace he longed to see and
to be, in the dream, the one from which
he would awake with such perverse
hunger for life
*lebensunwertes leben is the German phrase, coined in the early 1930s, meaning "lives unworthy of living"
 May 2016
GaryFairy
i've spent a lot of time on this planet
watching these creatures who inhabit
they say god made it, and it's granted
god won't be the one to **** it

for every gun there's someone to man it
flies with barrels aimed at maggots
they build a fire, then they fan it
flames pull them in like a magnet

they **** each other, and they even plan it
on this planet where i have landed
mankind are the ones wreaking havoc
it's hard for me to understand it
I am reposting the original alien report, because I am going to restart the series. Concept- the views of an alien from another planet that has landed on Earth.
 May 2016
Onoma
As a string
bound by
musical ends...
left to peak
its sound.
Stilled,
unbound by
musical ends...
sound struck
silence, silence
struck sound.
Shoring beatitude
to shoreless, shores.
 May 2016
South-by-Southwest
Nomad ,
a wanderer ,
never remaining static .

One at home
with their environment .

At peace with their creator .
Probably made
from shooting stars .
 May 2016
Lisle K Brook
While the trees sleep,
I lie awake. Eyes wide open.
My body is whole,
My soul is broken.

My precious son
that I prayed be born,
Is now gone;
I feel cheated…forlorn.

Good memories race through my mind;
His smile, his embrace;
He was so kind!
God took him away,
Was it really time?

He’s happy in heaven,
but I’m not fine.
Here on earth my heart still breaks
for my only son and his loving embrace.

God give me strength to live through this,
And for others who’ve lost children,
Please give them bliss.
No parent should have to endure this.
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