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 Oct 2012 dj
Ajay
Don't Read Me
 Oct 2012 dj
Ajay
I am sorry to bother you,
so please
                                                          ­                                  ignore these words
or don't.
Who am I
                                                                ­                      to tell you what to do?
Whatever you choose to do,
                                           know this poem has no greater cosmic meaning.
That was not its purpose.
If there is some deeper meaning,
                                                        ­                                      I'm unaware of it.
I'll leave it to you to speculate.
 Oct 2012 dj
DieingEmbers
Joes in bed the stars are out
the tv turned down low
as I await the zombie hordes
upon my favourite show
The walking dead don't frighten me
they'd never get past him
coz no one hurts his grand dad see
no Jack nor John nor Jim
so Joes in bed the hour is late
the moon is high or' head
so I will bid you all goodnight
I'm watching The Walking Dead
I truly thought
I had found myself
in a wondrous place
where you could truly see me,
and that all my words
were forever immortalized.
Held close.......
inside of your everything,
soft......as a breeze.

I laughed as you stared
into my eyes, asking my name.
With my heart in your hands
and the moonlight
at your beck and call.
Then......watching you walk away,
I smiled.......
even though I realized
you never knew me
at all.
Copyright 2012 - Neva Flores - Changefulstorm
 Oct 2012 dj
vircapio gale
apocalypse heat
i flee from black streets
my wife bathing still












.
piercingly cold
stepping on my dead wife's comb
in the bedroom

Buson (1706-83) composed this while his wife was alive. Hi wife Tomo outlived him by 31 years. Another translation of his 'fictional' haiku:

the piercing cold —
in our bedroom stepping
on my dead wife’s comb
 Oct 2012 dj
K Balachandran
Enigma
 Oct 2012 dj
K Balachandran
Every time
I start anew,
or decide
to leave,
without fail I arrive
at a new beginning.
                           Every start
                           is an end-
                           of something.
                          Each arrival,
                          culminates in a departure,
                                                 fallen in to  the cycle of
                                                 'samsara'
                                                 vagrant mind, plays
                                                creates illusions;
                                                ends and beginnings.
When the karma wheel completes its circles,
without thinking, consciousness merges with 
 the ocean of                                                       eternal being
arrivals and departures mean nothing,
If  
consciousness  is still and unmoving,  in the point between
birth                                       and                                       death.
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