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  Aug 2016 The Dedpoet
Julie Butler
it is when I sit with
beautiful things
I am reminded that
nothing ever keeps;
the words might smear or
the air should dampen
and if
you should not believe me
ask the flower what it is like for her
at nighttime and then
ask her to repeat it
explain to her
what it is like to be
lived in
old poets
never die
nor do they
fade away
they live
on and on
every time
you turn
the page
old poets
never die
nor do they
fade away
they live
on and on
every time
you turn
the page
  Aug 2016 The Dedpoet
Aztec Warrior
Radiation Burn**

Cancer is a mother;
snap, crackle, pop,
yet they zip, zap
and radiate me.
They won’t allow a
glow in the dark blush,
or allow some super powers;
no Spiderman,
not even the Hulk- sheeesh!
But they did suggest perhaps
Wonder Woman instead
since their hormone therapy
is medically castrating me-
all in the name of science
and to be cancer free!!
Yippee and yahoo
not to mention
radiation burns!!!
+++
I guess there is always a price,
a “trade off” they say.
So move over Superman,
Wonder Woman is in the house!
Oh, and by the way,
could I borrow some red lipstick,
I already have a magical whip
and I’m looking for
a heavy date Friday night!!

Aztec Warrior/redzone 7.28.16
Note: if you can’t laugh at what life
throws at you and also yourself,
cancer will eat you alive...
thanks for reading... and here is a link to some music:  from R.E.M.
"Everybody Hurts"
https://youtu.be/5rOiW_xY-kc
  Aug 2016 The Dedpoet
Leaetta May
Looking in the mirror
for imperfections
the wild hair,
a stray eye,
destiny's inheritance.
We lean in
to magnify the flaws.

When the real mirror
is coming to lunch,
ringing up our groceries,
delivering our mail,
returning home.

Alone....... we go out
in search of the mirror.
We  never stop looking.
we  never give up
our quest
for our love.
  Aug 2016 The Dedpoet
Natasha Ivory
Death.
I remember sitting in that room. Feeling as if the walls were going to close in around me.
That space and lapse between the ticking of the hand of the clock..from one second to the other. To the expanding of her lungs..the breaths that grew shorter and the flailing and fight of the body..begging for one more breath..as if in a fist fight with the arms of the clock..to reverse time.
Laying here, with my phone in hand..in the dark at 4:00 a.m., the backlight of the screen blaring in my eyes as I breath between sentences..ponder these memories and the plethora of thoughts and watch the cursor pulse.. as I lay one word in front of the other.
Time..is running out. Passing, even as I space these letters of the alphabet, strategically across this screen.
Love.
Reminiscing on my Mothers life and painful, agonizing passing, springs my mind and heart into action..to Love harder, live fuller and leave some sort of legacy to my children.
The one thing that she lived and taught, through the..sometimes disastrous way that she lived..was unconditional Love. There wasn't a word that passed through my lips that would cause her, to ever not love me. She was real, down to earth, tough as nails and lived through a life of surreal pain that most people couldn't even fathom.
Faith.
Fate has a way of stealing our blueprint for our life and rewriting it.
The immense, seemingly unbearable pains that come with growing and picking yourself up from one obvious failure to the next and the self doubt, confusion and hopelessness it's wrapped in, disguises itself as enough to "throw the towel in" on this life stuff.
Until the fight, stemming from faith in all things soulful arises and ignites your will to keep functioning and you pry yourself off of your pillow and try to remember that you're on borrowed time.
Purpose.
The problem with overthinking everything is that nagging, never ending thought that needs to find the reasoning behind everything..especially when it comes to those gory details and secrets about your life that nobody knows about..(or is that just my life?) Sometimes life just simply ***** and you'll never know why. As long as you can lighten up and laugh about it, you'll keep yourself out of the 51/50 category and keep on truckin', just a little stronger than before. Pull the "good" out of every wretched fragment of your story and use it to broaden your perspective and become more accepting of the people around you.

As I come to the end of this spillage of my soul onto paper, in hopes that I can dwindle down the twisting of my thoughts enough to rest..I hope that I encouraged at least one person to live deeper and love fuller, allowing all things good to stretch beyond your circumstance and be an inspiration to someone struggling.
Lead with Love.
Thoughts that race in the middle of the night and awaken you to scribble down.
Copyright © Natasha Ivory Evans 2016
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