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 Feb 2013 J Penpla
st64
Carrying round this cage of secrets
Heavy on the soul
Feel the last rattle upon me
Vultures fly overhead for cool pickings.

The battle is not with death but me
I feel the battles I've had throughout my life
Battles against me, few for me
Battles against myself.

Then death rolled open its rich tapestry
Oh, and was it red!
As I stepped onto that final rung
I felt the wrestling inside; the rattling of that cage.

Great is pity for carrying over this onerous charge
I ball my fist, rage at the skies
And nought but silence greets my fear
Thus graceful forward; no more to prove.

I've heard that G-d is love...
Let's hope I meet no wrath
I've heard speak of rebirth
Oh, let me unburden afore I leave.

And the rattle of the cage's so loud
Lying here, I try to tell you things
But 'tis of little use, for I am witness to
The last moments of this life . . . .

Eyes feel lead-laden, hands so heavy
Head feels like stone, an appendage
Tongue swells up; cannot speak
And the lights go out inside my head . . . .

Yes, someone turned out the sparkle in my core . . . .

(I think that . . . . no, I think . . . . )

And then . . . . simply,

I am no more . . . .
No more.

( . . . .  )


Star Toucher, 21 February 2013
 Feb 2013 J Penpla
Mariam Paracha
Frayed and grayed
Oversized and overused
Why you still hold onto it,
has everyone bemused.

Freckled and speckled
Like a cinnamon stick
warm winter stories
Keeping it thick

Pale fingernails, peak through the sleeves,
Tears and holes decorate the wrists.
From between cupped hands
Rise cinnamon flavored mists

Warm memories ride down your throat
Thawed hearts melt with every sip
Cinnamon specked bubbling froth
Settles above your lip

Cinnamon flavored laughs
Punctuate the conversations
Spicy aroma tickles the nose
Sniffing for winter’s indications

Warm memories on cold nights
Fill up the empty holes in your sleeves
Packed with stories soaked in cinnamon
And the sweater becomes fuller with the memories it weaves
 Feb 2013 J Penpla
Mariam Paracha
Insecure, was the sign on your door,
The door was always unlocked
You were quick to answer with every knock
Your back pocket held a mirror,
it is for protection you said.
A faint replication of self worth
Would stare back at you.

On stainless steel
tear stained water spots left paths
tracing back to your regrets
A slice of the world reflected
in the pointed mirror
everything was more burnished,
but inverted.
You used it
to cut through the ****** tension
Between you and your frivolous guests,
with slick, quick witted flirting.
So sharp,
you penetrated through
Leaving a piece of yourself inside their hearts.
No exit wounds.

When you stare at it in your clutch
it points north,
Towards the star that is always there
For you,
that will guide you home
But the magnetic attraction
towards your thirst for drama,
Sidetracks you.
Like a deflecting needle
That is no longer running on its axis
Free will, bouncing thoughtlessly
With the world no longer holding it captive
Not moving in accordance
To what keeps the world balanced,
What a thrill,
You like the way the world looks
So limiting, so manipulative
When it is reflected on the narrow surface
Wrong side up.

You grip the knife, carelessly
Until you overstep the boundary
Of right and wrong
And you trip on the tight roped tension
That you had strewn across
between you and the other side
And you stumble,
your canny dallying discourse
slips away,
hitting hard, landing straight in the back
of the one who loved you
for your innocent eyes
who didn’t come in
through the door with the sign
but instead came in,
through the window of your soul.
There is music almost everywhere
You can hear it in the breeze
Blowing gently through the dusty fields
Working slowly through the trees

Music is most everyplace
Just listen and you'll find
Music in the meadow grass
Music of every kind

The crickets make their squeaky noise
The birds they quack and coo
I hear music, if I'm listening
And I bet that you do too

There is music in a lover's voice
A gentle lilt in what they say
There is music in their breath as well
Listen closely as they lay

Don't close your ears to all that's there
You will miss the orchestra
You have two ears to listen with
Open up, hear nature roar.
 Feb 2013 J Penpla
JK Cabresos
Patience is a whimsical weather,
a scenery beneath a pale moonlit night;
somehow a velvet rope,
which binds memories between the lines.
Patience gains that trust
rare in a world of waiting,
a knightly sacrifice
that only someone's words can end.
It should not be talked about,
it has its own voice to speak for itself,
it means no boundaries,
no time, no conflicts.
It is a bizarre blossom,
a man could ever hold in his hands.
And patience is a kind of love,
explained in every bewildered circumstance.
All Rights Reserved © 2013
 Feb 2013 J Penpla
Wolf
Tailored suit, Turkish smokes in a fancy silver case
Gold buttons, collar straight, black tie neatly pressed in place.
Who is he? Well, you must make a deal to learn.
Give me two cents for my trouble,
And a cigarette to burn.

A man made up of shadows and illusions black and gray;
He's a quaint manifestation of the muse you've thrown away.
All of your escaped emotions,
All your unmitigated strife,
Packaged up in flesh and bone and given dusky life.

He breaks apart unfinished thoughts without regard to you,
And uses them to flesh out patchwork dreams of rosy hue.
But happy dreams are wrought of love,
And though Wolf vainly tries,
Internal nightmares oft bleed through and mar his cheerful lies.

He takes your lost sincerities and shapes them up like clay,
Gives them form and simple purpose,
In a rhythmic, pleasing way.

The Wolf is but a poet, his goal you mustn't misconstrue
For he will tear apart your soul
And smiling, give it back to you.
 Feb 2013 J Penpla
Morgan
He was crying on his porch when we turned on to his street. I rolled down his window from the driver's seat, handed him a cigarette & turned up the heat.

We're used to breakdowns and we're used to feeling lost. We've had a lot of friends whose lives paid the cost.

Well, we grew up around the tragedies that you read about & all we really talk about is getting the **** out. 

We act like our minds are perfectly clear
but we spend most nights overcome with fear.
Not tonight, blue eyes.
Turn up the music.
Have an other beer.
Smoke it down to the filter.
We're gonna make it through this year. 

*We're gonna make it through this year.
 Feb 2013 J Penpla
Leonard Nimoy
A silence with you
Is not
a silence

But a moment rich
with peace
 Feb 2013 J Penpla
Samantha
As I walk, I dream
Slowly letting my spirit teem
I go through this life, filled with strife
Floating along like a simple moonbeam

Away on ships I go
To where exactly, I do not know
Somewhere away from the pain so I won't have to feign
This pathetic masquerade of a show

Roses float around me
Gently in the sea
It stretches out, rolling about
As calm as it ever could be

Deep in shadows I rest in wait
Meeting you at the floral gate
Though nowhere you are, as you're up with the stars
And so shall forever be late

The clock ticks slowly, by and by
Accompanying me while I cry
Under my blanket of air I still feel you there
Whispering "I love you" and wiping my eye

Promises have been broken by you
Everything I heard was true
But if that's the case why do I still miss the face
Of the one I thought I knew

Play a song for me, I'll shed not a tear
Though I have much to fear
You disappeared from my sight, took away my light
Now each day feels like a year

Time engulf me, make this end
A letter to you I shall send
Hold me tight, I won't put up a fight
If only peace you can lend

A hundred reasons to cry
And I don't even know why
But I know with you here there's nothing to fear
Even though you're up in the sky

Another good night to you my dear
Please don't shed another tear
I am with you, know it is true
And remember you have nothing to fear

Dream once again of happier things
Like jokes and juggling and the joy to sing
Do not forget these, hold on to them, please
And remember the happiness I can bring
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