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 May 2013 Joanne Fuda
st64
1.
your words are oft like sweet-sour packages in the post
excitement mounts to rend strings yet dread too, peeps in.

songs you play are wrought from famished strips of liquid love
that my wretched soul with face upward, so wanting, laps up.



2.
oh, let me be that tree for your succour
come into me shade

oh, let me be that wave for your restlessness
come ride upon me swell

oh, let me be that light for your needing
come meld within me core

and take what you need.

(and please be mine, too)



3.
I am so in awe of you that I'm angry!

can you just come upon this landing, already?
let me lay you down, beside me . . .
this garden awaits

tomorrow never knows
of what wondrous delights we spake
mine eye seeks thee, always.

let me . . .
stroke your disheveled mind
and allow me to slow-spill into obdurate you
soft and gentle, sweet and kind
your destroyed words
to hear how swift and sudden they really are.

let us fall headlong . . .



4.
when, once every millennium
the tale doth go:
the time-eagle returns
to that diamond-mountain
so far away
to sharpen its beak
     and when, it finally wears down
     that haughty hill
then one mere second of eternity will have passed

yes, the hour-glass of eternity will run its full course.


despite time and distance
forever is a wicked charm that I must wait for . . .
and forsooth
the weight of it, I will bear.


S T, 14 May 2013
It is said that death is like sleep.
So, therefore, it should be painless, right?
Dying would feel like....falling asleep.

Then, maybe (if one believes in life after death), what follows is like a dream...or a rest between phases, to wake up to the next phase.

So, perhaps in life, who's to say our dreaming isn't as real as life itself, that we go visiting places and experiencing weird stuff.....displaced feelings.
And that it only feels weird, to convince us that it's not real, to persuade the mind that we were never there, and YET, it feels so real, so vivid!

I mean, who's really to tell...? (Maybe that's why birth feels so ....dunno, displacing..? All thought ripped away, so you can't even be a witness to your own inception! Then, it'll take a whopping lifetime to make sense of crap and understand this *******, by which time the moment dawns yet again, to...get going..)

Yeah, I know....stupid, using an equation (if a+b=c, then inversely, c=b+a!)
ha! what a freakin' joke.

Never mind, man.
I wasn't here and you're not reading this.
Ok?

(oh, what a beautiful morning,
oh what a beautiful day,
would that this dear soul would wake up
feel all the love that there is to unsay)
 May 2013 Joanne Fuda
st64
1.
pushing blindly
through carpet of old leaves
phototropic

buds anew.



2.
rare, potent connect lies
yet, affection unslung,

only
cloak refurbished.


(on lit trop)


S T, 12 May 2013
what is real?

oft, a change of scenery is great, yet it doesn't change its upstairs counterpart.

wearing new jacket over a torn shirt...means, there's still that **** torn shirt underneath!

novel moniker...still has you underneath, no?



sub-entry:

'essence'

1.
(try) too hard to capture essence
granted in tiny drops.

drink gratefully every heady dram
inhale displaced mercy
swoon in thoughts

purity of rain's essence remains pure
cannot be diluted nor enfeebled.

2.
yet
can't get over
really an uphill battle

and still
so intent on overtaxing strengths
leave beats so
downhearted, thread-bare.


enjoy new growth!
 May 2013 Joanne Fuda
JM
If I
 May 2013 Joanne Fuda
JM
am not kissing you
within five seconds
of seeing your eyes
in shared sunlight,
then the earthworms
will swarm to our
feet and by seven seconds
our tongues will touch
and the universe will
stop holding it’s breath,
knowing our time has begun.
 May 2013 Joanne Fuda
Liam
She moves through the fair of her life
with an awareness and introspection that belies her years

She still feels the effects of the darkness that plagued her past
but, as she goes forth, reaches with her soul towards a new and enlightened age

She will not forget her suffering, but uses it to transform her spirit
as an alchemist uses the philosopher's stone to produce precious from base

She is a rebel at heart, but hers is a cultural revolution, an awakening to the beauty of a spiritual life filled with music, art, poetry, language, philosophy, and the science of nature

Transformation isn't instantaneous and her emotions will still go medieval at times suddenly rising like a Gothic spire from the landscape

However, with each contrasting experience she is reborn and better equipped to fashion a belle époque of her own design

She may tend to shun the glamour of convention and develop a unique style
She just wants you to know who she is
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