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yellow seems to me
like almost sunshine,
but it's a false
warmth.
it's the colour of old bruises
littered on
arms and legs
like painful
little
kisses,
blossoms of pain
that fade and die,
just like everything
else.
while I type this poem
a president speaks to his troops
behind me on the TV
wearing the same bomber jacket
the president before him wore,
saying the same **** things to the same ol' ears
about the same **** guns and the same ol' wars.
he makes promises he can't keep,
while I make another ***** tonic
that I intend to drink.

and to think,
I'm the one considering therapy.
 Sep 2012 Jordan Jones
Arkips
As I stand beside and wonder,
Of clouds and rain and thunder,
What force or drive could be so great,
To carry all your reckless hate?

Who lied to you? Who let you down?
Who pushed you back? Who stole your crown?
Who stood you up, so proud and tall,
Slipped away, watched you fall

So surely you, such strength, such might,
Would find this soul, and set them right,
Meet their eye, hold their gaze,
Finalize these torturous days,

But to an end my thoughts conclude,
Though not for me, but just for you,
Your wrathful dreams may sail free,
But just for you, not for me.
From A to B, my temper holds
stronger than if still,
for I can't see a destination
stronger than my will.

Moving breaks my static gaze
as reels of passing art
leave their mark and fall away
but just in perpetual shift may they
stretch out time for me and stay.

My pangs are lost in deep transition
as we reach towards B from A,
and I look ahead to C, dare I say:
As life winds up its next stretched reel,
my will on that way would be stronger still.
Take a look into these inviting eyes of mine
Tell me what you really see
Attention uniquely reflecting back at you in kind
Or a surprising mystery

Do you see yourself in the reflection there
Shining sweetly back at you
Or the brightest shimmer of a stranger’s lair
Impossible to subdue

Now look away and then quickly back again
Never falter in your stare
Do you know where I start and you begin
In this love so real and rare

When I look into those inviting eyes of yours
I see only you and me
Reflecting love undefined by any words
Our own true destiny
© 2010 Neva Flores - Changefulstorm
Changefulstorm Poetry - http://www.changefulstormpoetry.blogspot.com
Changefulstorm - Categorian - http://user.adme.in/blog/browse/u/Changefulstorm
the sky a silver
dissonance by the correct
fingers of April
resolved

              into a
clutter of trite jewels

now like a moth with stumbling

wings flutters and flops along the
grass collides with trees and
houses and finally,
butts into the river
 Nov 2011 Jordan Jones
A L Davies
shifty-eyed sundays/summer smiles.
green backyards child-full,
meat eaters meat-eating,
bellies & throats conversation/food-filled.
young families flocking fawn-eyed to communion barbeques,
sweaty raspings/of feeding minds;
living-room, reading-room, lessons & phonics
shortwinded swindlings at tables of breakfast (equal portions)
---sub-divided.

categories..elements
systems of classifying,
lessons limping/near succeeding.
trekking inglorious [tired] track laps---round laps of track,
tried feet feet-walking
sleep-talking
waking, taking rests.
@ intervals,
(splashes of time) clock/clock-time.

sleep, repose, health profits;
restless prophets. word-of-mouth.
strange tongues, th'creaking of breaths,
classical forebodings---brow beating, war breeding.
wrist flickings/blurred strokes

markings/carvings---letters/numb3rs,
communicating---language speaking.
(overhearing.)
positive consensus
> press play.

un-buttoning buttons
soirée is overfinished, overture.
shirts come up/over/off---
bath's running---taps run-running,
clippings clipped from papers,
---snip-snipping.
crashing/slicing blades of scissors,
point-on-point.
television evening sign-off/lights off.
interestingopenwindowenergy,
an elegy..
under_scored.
wrote this a few years back on the 1933 underwood, was playing around with a coupla things:
1) how much punctuation i could include in the piece without detracting from the flow and keeping the pace i desired,
and 2) trying to write a performance piece as suggested by good old Erin from the karma marketplace.

any thoughts? i'd love to hear 'em if you have a couple..
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