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 Apr 2014 Kanorah
Fox
Why is hellopoetry.com black and white? I've always wondered about this... why my colorful photographs are required to travel back in time. How does this effect the poetry in any way, shape, or form? But I understand the wisdom of this design now. And it sets a great metaphor for all of the people of the pen involved in this truly noble motion, this secret society for people with passion, talent, and troubled minds and souls. Hello Poetry is black and white not because it has to be monochromatic and modern, but because us poets fill these pages with enough inovativeness and color already with our words, ideas, thoughts, songs, senryus, ballads, heartbreaks, insecurities, that adding literal color to this website would be overwhelming. These soft undertones of gray, black, and white may be considered drab and depressing to some, but to us poets it represents timelessness. And this is probably why we are all here. Hourly, daily, weekly, monthly, or even yearly publishing poems. Because we all know we are not going to live forever, and we are so entirely insignificant in the broad scheme of things and of the universe itself, that it is a bit comforting and helpful to have this coping mechanism or soft blankie to calm our fears, that this literature we write, however insignificant it may be, is absolutley permanent. And that maybe someday it will be remembered so a small bit of us may live on. Tom Riddle knew the needs and wants of man kind before anybody else realized it. Maybe he was just trying to cope with the fact that he is insignificant. These poems are all our Horcruxes so *viveamus per camenam nostram.
^^^let us live through our poetry
 Aug 2010 Kanorah
DJ Thomas
Poetry is often made impossible
and forgotten it dribbles away

Experiences begot are dried
in dusty memoriam of thoughts

Locked in chipped ornaments
pictured emotions die framed
in an old letter's sentenced pain

Decorative wordy entrapments
cannot fool or command love
however many silvered words
try to stir or grab at thine heart

Whereas times every moment in
your observed, captured thought
does cradle this beating heart

"We shall gift thought it's
touch and bites of freedom
then love it's sustenance
"

Fun's giggling thrashing bushes
of living sweating poetry

David x
copyright©DJThomas@inbox.com 2010
Words aplenty I always have
To express the way I feel
Yet looking in your eyes right now
Word's can’t even begin to tell

I feel no hate towards anyone
Though perhaps I should for you
But I know any hate I hold inside of me
Would destroy me too

I am saddened by the reasons
I now look at you
For you and myself but most of all
For our families too

My heart cries for your children
As it cries for my own
Left alone without both their parents
To love there in their home

Such a senseless act of desperation
For a small nominal gain
That ended the life of a beautiful man
Bringing all of us such pain
Copyright *Neva Flores @2010
Written to the young couple that murdered my husband.  A senseless ****** that hurt everyone including them.
In memory of Vicente Antonio Morales Flores 09/21/54 - 09/25/08
My Beloved Husband
 Mar 2010 Kanorah
Marx Cline
Grow up selfless,
Follow the crowd.
Play the marionette.
Break free from the suffocating darkness,
Right into the desolate bleak.
Find rest in the bottomless grave.
Free at last, free at last.
 Mar 2010 Kanorah
Alexander S
What the hell am I doing with my life?
Kind of just letting it happen for now
Drifting through without a defined purpose
As though fate will somehow carry me towards
The blissful future my shaded eyes see
Only shaded eyes, like seeing specters
I guess divine comfort is only that

Still I method act out the optimist
Some parts of yourself cannot be escaped
I can’t help but feel her breath on my neck
And whispering sensations on my skin
Thinking soon I will play nomad no more

Seeing the ***** thoughts she undresses
Through parting lips and silent caresses
 Mar 2010 Kanorah
Alexander S
Fingers and toes curling
My fingers, your toes
Eyes and walls closing
Lips and lips watering
At the thought of a Lover’s kiss

I want to run my tongue
In delicate lines
Up and down your thighs
Smiling while You’re gasping
In my passing
Lips to the other side

There is an art to teasing
Having you twitching and wishing
I’d get to the pleasing, seeming
To pass closer and closer each time
Up and down your thighs

And while fingertips
Are a sorry substitute for Lover’s lips
It only takes the slightest brush
To have you quivering at my touch
And you cannot disguise
The passion building in your eyes
As I run my hands
Up and down your thighs

I’ll kiss your lips
No more stalling
As my kisses, slowly falling
And your heartbeat quickly rising
Fabric dropping, realizing
That finally this time
I’m not kissing towards your thighs.
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