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 Oct 2018 Dean Russell
allmrc
I like the breeze when it touches my skin
The honesty of the clouds make me humble at least
The moment when it whispers in my ears
Telling me that life isn't just about cupcakes and sweets
But also heartaches and tears.
<>
The Instigation:
Edmund  Black, commenting on “weary weighted,”

I agree with Kim; This is poetry at its best :)“

<•>

both of you shush!

there is no “better” in poetry

mine yours theirs, alive or not,

just gasps tears and blood
whimsical smiles and isles
cuts and burns of pained revelations,
hidden in fog,
that words try to delete away,
through the shrouded mists of
human tissues,
unconstrained by the
bounded shape
of the human cell,
our first, our own
self-imposed jail

tissue, too,
baby soft, or,
purple beating majestic bruised blotches
by those weaklings whose
kindness never
fully developed;  
or old man mine whose
skin cells erodes, so poems and light
weary weighted, lightly flake off
for your “betterment”
mostly tho for worse

good humans all await,
in patientce lightly hidden,
residents of dark sunspots
in the glaring existence exposer
of the unlit lighthouse whose time will come

they get it

how we get there unimportant

get there

GET THERE

get there
that is the poetic
mission critical

no path best or style preferred-
no compare just, but,
any path that
lifts and elevates,
to the commonplace


the common place

where all costarred, universal,
where common is the temple mount
of highest praise, holy smoke rising,

a place that
that discloses and closes,
is scribed/described honestly as
a connective,
which is the simplest
successive

call my poems,
blessedly common!

that an honorable,
so gladly accepted
and
so much more meaning-full
than merely best or better



for that,
I’d gladly weep,
for no praise
ever been
bettered





8/2/18 406pm
on the jitney to my isle
the instigation: Edmund black › “weary weighted, I agree with Kim .... This is poetry at its best :)“
A place
In my mind
Neither Alien nor Earthly
I yearn to find

Lost
In the Universe
Neither to be found in Verse
Nor Hearse

A place
In my mind
Distinctly Familiar,Yet Unknown
I SEEK
Shall I ,find....
Some thoughts ..... trying to fill them in words
We dance in the ashes like
Literary scavengers.
In the ruins and after rages
We draw the shreds of words and pages
Around our naked bodies like Blankets,
A quilt of the quintessential struggle
Which all people suffer
I'm not sure if I posted this before,  but it's have been a while. I wrote this not too long after reading "the Book Theif" which was wonderful
 Jun 2018 Dean Russell
Sheherazad
It is terrifying that love dooms us to pain —
because if not done correctly,
love is a cancer on the heart
Its greedy cells fed by the anguishing cannibalism
of one’s own mind,
unable to separate itself from the seed it once held

And if it done correctly,
lovers will feel that two bodies cannot become close enough.
I cannot melt into you
in the way that I want to
When I’m lying with my head on your chest
begging to fall into your heart.

When you are not here, you are too far
But even when I am in your arms,
separated by nothing but our skin,
You are still too far

Thank the lord for these two sorrows
and the ability to choose between them
— @sheherazad.poetry
 Jun 2018 Dean Russell
jigyasa
clutching chaos in a tight embrace
fingers clasped, a strong grasp  

ask the trees, root deep
snuggled in the soft soils of mama Earth
yet skyrocketing, infinite potential

ask the water
skipping and stumbling in silly streams
soon to transform into mighty rivers
oceanic magnitudes conquering the expanse of this planet

ask the flames
making candles flicker weakly
but in the same essence
fuelling the volcano  
a rudimentary relationship so simple
yet vital to development

its not a myth
rather an equilibrium of elements
in unequal proportions
but complete unanimity
 Jun 2018 Dean Russell
Eryck
Mammy say don't fear the boll-weevil,
Just a bug, don't worry bout him.
But Pappy say the little devil evil,
so he believe in the cotton gin.

This Texas guy say he was an angel,
I followed lock-step, believed what he said.
Didn't seem to have any sharp angles,
he drank some poisoned koolaid now he dead.

Searched at end of rainbow for *** of gold
me be rich *****, no mo po *****.
Leprechaun belief, I been told,
While head in sky searching, fell in trench.

Politician and preacher keep saying,
I hear their voice noise grind and grind,
vote for me girl and keep praying,
but in the end it make no nevermind.

I tink at de end of the day I just believe in me.
Sometimes the rain drops
are so big and succulent
like mangoes
and tears
and temple bells
at dawn

The parched earth
smiles
and welcomes all
in her embrace
the rain drops
ripe mangoes
endless tears
and mystic sound
of temple bells
at dawn
Monsoon rains are here upon us and big, big, raindrops bless our parched land with smiles. :)
I don’t write right,
I don’t speak neat,
I write what I speak,
Leaving error for unique,
I don’t care to be fair,
And fair isn’t there,
In the battle of scare or be scared,
I fear the fears,
Fears that encapture slow,
Slow and arrogant,
To put on a snare and show,
Slow is nasty,
Nasty is the only thing I see,
In the world of winning,
I don’t write for you,
I don’t write to read,
Don’t tell me I write wrong,
These words are wrote to be freed,
Not for your benefit,
Yet you still convince my mind,
There is something wrong,
Wrong to be kind,
Wrong to be in need,
But I’m not listening,
Grab my pitchfork,
Grab moreso the pen,
Write from the hell,
Find it within and carve the shell,
Hide it within a sin,
And watch the world it’s emerged in.
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