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Silence
The world around keeps revolving
Standing in the center and seeing it in motion
Faces, humans, people about
Rising and falling
Breaking and making.
I like this spot
Introspecting the humankind.
This silence, it clears my mind.
If we could all talk less
And listen to each other.
Make thus no rambling
Just talk what matters
And listen to what counts.

We could all then listen
To the voices never heard
The cry for a loaf of bread
The little girl who wanted to learn.
The man who never had a roof above his head
And the dying mother, aching for a healing touch.
What selfishness we have taught our children
That only the green can get us through the day.
What hypocrisy we have woven into our legacies of destruction.
Now find ourselves caught in our own web of lies.

Maybe if we could all just hold hands
And keep a moment or two silent
Maybe the cries of help and pain
From far across the desert
Will make its way into our lives .
Maybe then, our eyes will open
To the ignorance we "treasured" all this while
And perhaps then, lend a helping hand.
 Mar 2014 Instrospect
Dominique
i sleep with a bomb under my bed

cut the blue wire
cut the red

(tick tock)

i can't live with this bomb anymore

i'm so hurt
i'm so sore


i cut my red veins
i cut the blue


it was going to end like this

i always knew
I can't help but think of you
when I look at a map.
I do not love you except because I love you;
I go from loving to not loving you,
From waiting to not waiting for you
My heart moves from cold to fire.

I love you only because it's you the one I love;
I hate you deeply, and hating you
Bend to you, and the measure of my changing love for you
Is that I do not see you but love you blindly.

Maybe January light will consume
My heart with its cruel
Ray, stealing my key to true calm.

In this part of the story I am the one who
Dies, the only one, and I will die of love because I love you,
Because I love you, Love, in fire and blood.
 Mar 2014 Instrospect
cheryl love
These shaky fingers I possess
Can paint a fantastic tree
They serve their purpose I guess
It's how things are meant to be.
It is with love in my heart
That I cling on to some hope.
Maybe one day my fingers will be still
Not only will I be able to cope
But I will have a stronger will.
But then the tree will be straight
and it wont look at all realistic
But then the tree awaits its fate
I will not be apologetic.
So it is a toss up, straight or still
I really dont care if my fingers shake
I love painting trees on a misty hill
or the reflections around a lake.
That is settled then, perfection.
The very definition of the word love
begins with the word
**you.
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