There was a fog that seemed to hover thickly
over the perceived salience of his musings
  
It was as if there were a veiled mystique
that left hopeful understanding ,
                   ambiguously obscured ...

His soul's cadences fell beyond the pale ,
like a reverberant iron bell’s clamor ,
                   drowning acumen ;

albeit , unmistakabe crystal clear allusions ,
scanning inwardly, rhapsody in his mind's eye

                    Illusive accord ,
                    beclouded by seeming stigmas
                    borne of the flesh ;
                    delicately sensitive nuances ,
                    misunderstood imperfections ,
                    bespoken utterance weighed heavy upon heart ...

In the hush of pensive repose ,
flow of soul streamed forth from its retreat within ;
bequeathed as if darkness
was magnetically drawn towards light ,
purging muted understanding ...

                    Assuredly seeking all questions with verve ,
                    accepting , that all answers sought
                    are not meant to be understood

A realization of those who wish to speak yet abide unspoken ;
the unseen mark of those that wished they had been loved ,
befallen the music of a thundering heartbeat ,
understanding a circle is vulnerable ,
only makes it stronger ―

                    hence ,..
                    it had been written
                    in countless misunderstood ways ...

Knowing he resists an inner-voice to endure silently
for a fear of that which remains indelibly writ ,
tattooed on introspective walls
far removed from the afterglow of light ,
where depth of soul yearns to be freed ;

                    heart speak hushed , deft words avowed
                    in enigmatic tongues ― Vayu doth whisper

                    soul's prevailing tides ebb and flow
                    from unseen depths , permeating
                    deeply within inner realms

The spirit of soul once steeped his heart’s intone :

               "Spell words that bind together passing strangers  
                 Coalesce  thoughts to inspirit those whom often walk alone
                 Append the goodwill of poetry, aspiring to bond individual
                 hearts and minds with words of love and light.  
                 Conjure written  spells to bespeak sincerely ,
                 a faith in unabated love"

and yet ,   he will write it again and again ,.. searching beyond words

…words grasped from emerging thoughts
                   drawn in to the light
                   searching for other adept words
                   to recite yet another way ,
                   sketch another word-scape ,
                   written with the relentless inexhaustibleness
                   of an unstoppable awakening ...  

Another winter dawn imbues a new day come to light

                   he will write it again and again ,

                                          ... finding another way to be set free ...



                                                          ­       Harlon Rivers

i live with it injected into me
my phone listens to me more than
i do the people on the other side
and it gives me ads about my depression
got a state that’s leaking it all into the ground
and ran by a nuclear man
just who is the patriarchy? people
who hate science and the ability
to choose what others like

maybe one day i’ll grow ****, you just wait
before the earth sheds itself
of humans

Our Congresspeople get rich
No matter how much you *****.
They do it again and again
Because fools voted them in.
You can’t make them stop
Because we don’t have a cop
That works for our side in DC.
We can’t call this the land of the Free.

It’s the land of gouge and overcharge;
Of money laundering crooks at large,
Calling themselves patriots and stealing.
There seems to be no thieving ceiling.
Rave and threaten and lie about it
There seems to be no doubt about it.
We are in the clutches of the greedy
Who fashion themselves as the needy.

And like some Middle Eastern nuts
They are constantly showing their butts.
They commit their crimes daily
Then go about almost gaily
Pointing at the victims they harmed
And claiming the poor are armed
Then trying to take away our rights.
They’re the people that rob us at night.

Yes, they are the crooks and now
They don’t even have to explain how
Because a third of our voters are dolts
Who have no concept of the nuts and bolts
Of the complex offices that lead us.
We’re in the hands of jerks that bleed us.
Once this nation was something great.
I hope we fix this before it’s too late.

They don't know the bubbleheads the ones
They don’t really know what they’ve done
Is a simple matter once we dissect it.
And what they really need to do about it.
They wring their hands as they are *******,
And neurotically grab at an attitude;
Then blame anybody else for their misery.
It’s a frightening case of mistaken identity.

Depart, sweet rose -
inform her that hast her hours and me, that somehow she knows, when I compare her to thee, how lovely and darling she seems to be.

Inform her that is young, and shy's to have her sweets espied, that hadst thou sprung in lands where no men abide, thou must have unsung died.

Little is the worth of graces from the sun retired: allow her come forth, allow herself to be desired, and not rise so to be admired.

Then fade - that she the known destiny of all that's rare may see in thee; how tiny a grain of time they share that are so vastly dear and fair!

Not good enough
How often did she feel
Not good enough?
Always trying to fit in
Be normal
But what is normal?
Stifled by her fears
She could not change
Now, she's done with that
She’s not normal
Never will be
It’s too late for that
No, it’s time to
Face her fear
And just be

Kelly Rose
January 18, 2018