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 Sep 15 acacia
Erwinism
Not long ago
the twilight called you into her arms;
into to the depths of the unknown,
left your name in the care of this world
sweetest sound that leapt from your mother’s lips
and ours.
The tides where you are is unperturbed
by the mortal wind,
and in the clouds a garden sprawls
and thrives at the tip of its universe.
We can only imagine.
If such letter scribbled here shines a light; if our candles burn
may you find it a star in the night.


You are no more,
no more to share this borrowed life;
no more treading in the stream of time;
no more but with me still, stirring yet ever still,
shattered heart never heals.
as the last rays of the sun through the window of your room dim,
Your soul is lit up in our dreams,
as though a candle that eternally burns,
I bid time, return
for you my father had taken flight,
silence lingers in restless nights,
where you be, you be
for we shall have our time,
to reflect on this life; the endless sea
for too, shall we; in the crossroads meet the end of our journey: an inevitable destiny
and where you be, we be.
 Sep 15 acacia
Davis J Posey
Far away, I see a man
Standing tall on rocks of sand.
Careful not to move or breathe.
Fearful of what may break beneath.

He sees me, too,
Wading in a pool of blue.
Here I have stood for years,
Now tired from all of my fears.

The water whispers my name,
Saying I am not to blame.
She offers me rest.
And lulls me to take one last breath.

But the man warns me to keep my head above,
Warning me of the devil’s dove.
If I die, so will he; even now, we totter
Scared, I may drown in three feet of water.
 Sep 15 acacia
Asonna
I love a sunburnt country,
but now the land's ablaze.
the oxygen we breathe has turned to dust
yet our request for help is denied.
I love a sunburnt country,
but there's not much left to last.

Firefighters aren't getting paid,
Neither are their bills.
yet our leader claims we're all fine
but he can afford to jet away.

The wildlife is damaged.
Koalas are losing homes.
much like the population
as the fires rip through their walls.

I love my sunburnt country,
but this has gone on too long.
while it's nice you're in hawaii Mr. Morrison,
everyone else is left to stand alone..
Mignonne, allons voir si la rose
Qui ce matin avoit desclose
Sa robe de pourpre au Soleil,
A point perdu ceste vesprée
Les plis de sa robe pourprée,
Et son teint au vostre pareil.

Las ! voyez comme en peu d'espace,
Mignonne, elle a dessus la place
Las ! las ses beautez laissé cheoir !
Ô vrayment marastre Nature,
Puis qu'une telle fleur ne dure
Que du matin jusques au soir !

Donc, si vous me croyez, mignonne,
Tandis que vostre âge fleuronne
En sa plus verte nouveauté,
Cueillez, cueillez vostre jeunesse :
Comme à ceste fleur la vieillesse
Fera ternir vostre beauté.
“Looking back, I’m ashamed of what I was
I’m different now, though not without flaws
Each crest becomes a trough, as we move on
God slowly steers soul towards a new dawn”

I was a dusty carpet always ignoring abuse, it was being piled
never differentiating between a real friend and an opportunist
I always made sure I gave others more then I gave myself,
my heart was always a blood bath and my soul hurt like hell
At the age of thirty six I began my journey with a therapist  
who found the little girl in me and helped her rise again  
Locked inside a suitcase at six, the world to me was closed  
I started living again, this time I became my own best friend
I learned to say no when I meant no and yes when I meant yes  
there were adjustments along the way, with family and friends
but sooner or later they came to realize I had seen a new dawn
and I wasn't going to be used as a runner for their ***** feet
God slowly steered my heart towards a wholesome love of self,  
after freeing my soul I embraced the fire and began living again.

Copyright © Mystic  Rose |2024
 May 9 acacia
irinia
a soul history is like the caligraphy of dunes
the psyche toiling its dark materials
sketching shadows from imagination
the cabaret of desire contemplating all the wonderful trivial terrible beings you can be. a wave in my mind you are
between the visible and invisible man the wisdom of the shamans

I walk on streets, I see things, I touch hands suffering from imagination deficit disorder. sometimes I have thoughts in reverse
but I cage my heart in this shrine of memory while
I am looking for you dawn by dawn, bird by bird
I should’ve
waited
for someone
like
her to
come
into my
life.

She is hiding behind her projected frumpiness..
but when my young lovely takes off her glasses;

   Ah,    ****..

Those eyes are the reason men were given theirs.

Group facilitator is Christ incarnate..
                                      I am sure of it.

     "How well do you want to get, Paul"

I look over at her--
curled up on a chair pad..
hiding,  wondering
Looking down.. and then looking up at me
wondering if I'm gonna answer him;

      "Paul?  Are you there?"

I stare at her--  all alone,
biting the back of her fingers
fighting tears few in this world
would understand


There is roll-playing  in the group
using both action and Word
   to climb all over me
   and uncover me from where I hide.


He (my Jesus with an MA)
is staring at me,  inviting
I look back over at her
"I'm not leaving it, Dave"

              "Leaving what. Paul?"

"My brokenness..
its shattering of my soul"


He is staring at me, but begins to smile.
I look over at her,  and just know

  I will be with her forever

there is a healing
within the choice to not fully heal

      ..I'm going to Wichita

https://youtu.be/WM5W5y9zb1A?si=qlW3TxqbLetoGUNh

beautiful broken girl  is me
 Feb 14 acacia
Goddess Rue
Heaven rained on me,
I breathed in the petrichor,
Bathed in the downpour.
I have sinned,
So destroy me,
With your rain.
 Apr 2023 acacia
Glenn Currier
Your voice crackles like red logs in a camp
singes the tiny hairs in my ears
burns in my numbered parts
eddies over the big stones
rolls pebbles left and right as if looking for a place
to lodge and rest, away from the pounding environment.

Your long and insistently unruly hair
tickles the tiny places inside
that never thought of being tickled
never figured to be touched by your hidden wildness
the disguised untamedness
stirs my groggy languid waters
your wild, full flushed heart pounds
rhythm into my flat languid and resistant plains.

I am a sandy arid desert dotted with cacti and pigweed
thirsting for the fluid you excite with ease
and draw up from my depths.

Songs erupting from the well of your faith
come forth from your sober mouth
and waft over our sallow selves
over our normality and our implacable comfort.

Your vocal chords echo Leonard Cohen
a pursuer who never found the object of his quest
but you do not deify the journey
like so many traveling troubadours.
You rest assured of your place up yonder
the place safe and secure in green planet that is you.
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