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 Dec 2014
Phosphorimental
"It was not my home they bombed,"
The little girl said,
But a thin shell
which failed instead.

My home?
It is within a billion hearts
And beyond that,
part of every star.

My name?
It’s spoken in every tongue,
But a different language
For everyone.

And what ever becomes,
was willed to be
Before the dawn
of eternity.

No, it’s not my home,
This restless place,
But for the reflection of love
When you remember my face.
 Dec 2014
Phosphorimental
Precious chance for a lonely thought,
Loose, slip-fades sinuously free
A melodious stream of nostalgic mist
From a mug of Arabica sea.

Curiously exhaled from dissonance
In an amber lit café.
He imagines himself a sojourner,
A wayfarer without a way.

Long shore drift en echelon
Long minutes march by metronome
Long is the spellbound beachcomber
For an island all his own.

Long is the dream of an inland man
Lost to his seaside girl.
Diver down where the standard waves
Swimming dizzy for a polished pearl.

Light from her eyes plays on sea glass chips
Tumbled in the curling waves
That crest and break on a beach that waits
for a wish he once had made.

The surf is heard like a lingering kiss
breathing ripples on the smoothening sand
And just as the whisper and simmering fades,
Another promise swells, tumbles, and lands.

The ocean is love running breathless,
In a race between the moon and the sun,
Causing tides to surge across the poignant curve
Of an incandescent blue horizon.

A tranquil star contracts and bursts
In pulsing neon spires.
There’s forever a star expiring
While life glows from embers in a dying fire.

If this writer could paint, it would be a portrait
of the empty space beside him.
Awaiting the image of a seagoing girl,
He turns his canvas into a thirsting ocean.
 Dec 2014
Phosphorimental
We are each alone and together everywhere.
Not a molecule of you do I seek to contain...no;
refresh your beauty where you need,
for you travel like a wild vine
in search of falling light,
but your roots run deep into me.
I will bring you earth,
you bring me the beyond.
 Dec 2014
Phosphorimental
Hearts imbued with redolence
fill the garden with others sent…

…to pour their wine in waiting chalice
of servants drunk in sultans palace.

Fragrance comes before the rose,
then long after the petals close.

Following the scent of flower white
a nightingale came to rest one night.

Amongst the thorns she made her bed
there from her chest, the colors bled.

So the rose received its hue,
from the winged messenger of Allahu.
 Dec 2014
Joseph Schneider
In the wake of giants we sing
We see no boundaries
We see no walls of abhorrence
Only prevalence
If we are not chasing a dream
We are helping someone else catch theirs
We think our dreams are too far fetched
We think because we are us we can't
What separates us from prosperity
Nothing but one fact
While we say "no I can't"
Those who prosper say "yes I can"
It's more simple than we imagine

- Joseph B Schneider
© Joseph B Schneider. All rights reserved
From musicians to professional athletes nothing separates them from anyone else but heart.  The only person keeping anyone from their dreams is themself.  The person who says I can, and the person who says I can't are both right.
The distance 
between you and me
is what we maintain
And so is God.
 Dec 2014
axr
she ruled kingdoms three
the land were prisoners roam free
she spent her time staring at walls
making worlds which would never fall

the chieftain came in and bowed at her feet
'My Queen,the enemy has left us no option -
surrender or retreat.'
Aghast,bewildered and tensed she paced the court
'Oh dear! did they sink our boat?'
'Your majesty, will you please tell how to act in such a situation?'
'You fool! how am I supposed to answer when I am the Queen of Procrastination!'
 Dec 2014
Onoma
You can't comb
what's already
breached
you...
diamonds
finding
diamonds
in the
rough.
~Amitabha~
 Dec 2014
Phoenix Rising
I was sitting patiently at the hair salon when a thought struck me.  I observed people around me. I observed the husband and his wife connect, laughing humbly at each other's jokes that weren't very well constructed.  I observed people walking left and right past the salon through the big glass windows.  The pedestrians would glance back every now and then, as they paced ever so quickly to their destination.  The thought that struck me was how disconnected I was while being connected, simultaneously.  The people didn't know me and I didn't know the people, on a deep level.  I enjoyed how close the relationships they all separately had, though.  In a way, the relationships I observed that were very disconnected from me made me feel...connected.  It's an odd feeling to explain, but I felt warm.
It's fun to wonder what people are up to.
 Dec 2014
NuurSeraph
....in hushed tones of porous
red, eye bled
too much sour fragility
born of nobility's bed

~<⊙>~
watch me crack Pandora's box
breathe the spirit's aftershocks

~<⊙>~
I'm wheezing the nauseous
dread instead
the chloroform storm
is brewing

I'm locked and loaded
bloated and bad
oh me oh my
too mad to be sad
                     
**~<⊙>~
Affects of a fuller Moon
~<⊙>~
 Dec 2014
Amitav Radiance
So many words are being spent everyday
Each of them, used to construct a bridge
Where communication can take place
And meet half-way, to greet each other
Wondering, if that what is to communicating
Only based on words and the verbose
Have we bothered to see the many layers
Which makes up the fragile ecosystem
Yet, so often we go on eroding the surface
Leaving it bare and exposed to threats
That communication will be wiped off
Not long, with the undermining of feelings
Communication will have borne the brunt
Of our callous attitude and lost forever
Not only waves of words that washes away
The beauty of meaningful communication
It's time, we also listen to each other's heart
And pay obeisance to the silence that speaks
Communication will have a fair chance to survive
 Dec 2014
Amitav Radiance
The flute catches the music in the air
Every note dances ecstatically
A playful duet that pleases the heart
Silence becomes more gorgeous
Listening to the flute is a realization
Entwined in the caress of the pristine air
The oneness with it, a revelation
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