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 May 2015
Deontra' Demeritte
;
If I had to describe myself,
I would say...

I'm not just the 50+ scars
from blood-stained razors
on my left arm;

I'm not just the countless tears
I cried when I pleaded
with your deity;

I am ";"

";" is never-ending.

I am ;
because my story doesn't end here.

I am ;
because I am forever evolving.

...so until
"."
arrives,
I am ;
This is probably my most simplistic piece but ironically one of my most inspirational once you understand the concept of the semi-colon. I got the idea from http://hellopoetry.com/takemeaway/ (Alexia Cousineau).
 May 2015
Amitav Radiance
In a café
Rich aroma of
Coffee brew
Morning welcome
Happy faces
Flitting newspaper pages
Reads the world story
Over aromatic coffee
Discuss local happenings
Perfect blend of
World with the neighborhood
Over cups of coffee
Animated discussions
Some ideas may
Change the world
Microcosm will fit
Perfectly in the macrocosm
Small world
Can make a difference
 May 2015
Onoma
Soft as sight
where peace lies...
and breezes part
with the gift of space...
life by name caves in.
Moments lose count
while pouring nectar...
one must swear they
are there, just to remain
in body.
 May 2015
BellaBloom
I know desire
desert of pyre
sister to this fire within
Amidst you and I
love drunken high
a savage gale begins
With angst respire
and lusts arrest
in the eleventh hour
down to rest
To my crippled hand
and weighted tongue
the fray begun
the sting has stung
To thirst and hunger
impassioned tease
encompass me
with an  ardent seize

In all that is left
one seed and sweat
desire shall feed again
 May 2015
Dr Zik
Would that I had become the eyes of blind one
And might have I seen what he wanted to see
Would that I had become the touch sense
And might have conveyed the message
To those who wanted to touch and feel
Would that I had become the tongue of a dumb one
And might have I made the speech what he wanted to speak
Would that I had become the ears of a deaf one
And might have I heard what he wanted to listen
O, chirping of birds
Whispering of morning air
I often think!
Zik Poetry
 May 2015
Chris
'

*I became a poet the day I wrote your name
Walking Along The Vine
So many walk along the skinny vines
scared to look down among the rolling seas of want
are the lives of so many that created their dreams
that was buried inside this body of mine..*

with trepidation on this tightwire act
no safety net lies below
and where the heart goes the body follows
trusting kindred souls to catch us when we fall

We have this shelter above our heads
from auto pilot to cruise control we speed along
being stuck in the rat race from nine to five
exchanging time for money of a life that is dead...


surrounded by a violently swirling
and turbulent , tempestuous world
trying to find peace and dignity
in a passionless and brutal place
we have only ourselves to run this race

In all moments of silence come the breaking news
I let you see the authentic me, the release of my destiny
lifting me to higher vibration, is my poetic contemplation
In this very moment ,We are free....


free to be, or not to be
but freedom is relative
as all at this event horizon can plainly see
waiting to be drawn into the singularity
where all is one and one is we

The sweetness of your smile, your look of love covers me
it makes me walk a mile, and the more time we spend talking
the more I start to feel your warmth, our intimate moments
last all night, as I sleepwalk through your dreams....


as Morpheus guides us along that ethereal plane
drawn toward what we do not fathom
a glittering paradise, resplendent with the dew of tomorrow
journey, do we, hand in hand to the edge of then
and open to possibility

Deborah and Wolf
Thank you again Wolf spirit aka quinfinn.. you are an awesome wonderful poet.... you honor me by writing with me
You arrived suddenly in my tangerine bliss
with my heart clinched in your fist
you touched me... and the dance started
with a gape of spontaneous combustion
you swirled me around the dance floor
dancing cheek to cheek....

we skipped the light fandango
fox trotting and waltzing to the beat of tango
the big band broke into a swing
while the love light shone as a crystal disco ball
jitterbug jive and a reet beet
dance macabre and so light on our feet

You lead me by the hand bodies musing
all the while... you lead me out by my hand
and made way into the galaxy for our feet
as we danced like fine wine...becoming intoxicated
by its beauty~ you danced me into Shangri-La
with my eyes wide and full of imagination
we danced through tangled forests of light

like Fred and Ginger
tiptoeing upon the backs of stars
dipping into galaxies and twirling on quasars
i hold your hand as you pirouette
upon the moons of a mystic world
as our romantic lambada is unfurled
forbidden planets and forbidden dance
the secrets of whirlwind romance

we were like Phoenix that had risen
dancing into the morning dew and nectarine
and I kissed you as the tangerines fell
from the sky~ dazed with a trial of stars
and then oh yes then.... I pronounced myself
as yours....as we escaped to paradise
dancing all the while.....cheek to cheek
as you gave me the Tangerine Kiss.....

tangerine kisses, tangerine dreams
sipped of the nectar of the gods
the fruit of creation in the form of love
a blessing from goddess, earth and above
we dance the steps of swoon and lean
and sweet nuances of tangerine
with every blessing in between

I felt a kiss upon my frozen cheeks
a clear promise of all our tomorrows
as I sleep with love within our hearts
your sweet tangerine kisses and dreams
are part of our creation... straight from above
My heart is dancing and dreaming
with you always a blessing from God.
What a joy and what fun to write collabration with awesome poet wolf spirit aka quinfinn
 May 2015
kaylene- mary
He died on the bathroom floor
The tiles cracked beneath him
Split the earth right down to the core
Poison slipped from under his skin
And drained his body of blood
He lay there like a bag of blistered bones
Smothered by a world I knew as mine
With my name scarred to his hips
I tore the flesh from my spine
Warmed him with breath
Wrapped him up in suppression and regret
Clawed through my veins and held him down to rest
But his blood still leaks from purple lips
Dissolving through my chest like arsenic kisses and acid trips
He has a tongue made of razors and it's lapping up my sweat
Sometimes I think it's just my guilt tugging at my throat
Other days I know it's him -
Spitting out the currents in an ocean for the blind
An eye for an eye, and he'll finally have me confined
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