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 Jan 2017 K Mae
CharlesC
A racial or privilege of identity
where difference is unnoticed
results in a sameness
in our blue-pilled culture..
Some plead for an awareness
of these differences overlooked
both small ones and elephantine..
Yet in these endeavors
something else escapes notice:
our strong belief in separation
a belief born early.. never shaken..
Here is a radical approach:
step away from the differences
and find the Presence which
contains all differences..
Know that each of us
although molded in difference
the moldings are not
apart from but made of
the  Presence...
 Jan 2017 K Mae
Nat Lipstadt
~
for T.M.R.
~

We find our poems in many different ways.  Of late,
I keep finding inspiration in the public and private messages that many of you send to me, regarding poems I choose to publish here.

So I repeat my disclaimer,
"any message you send, can and will be used as a poem."

~

instant recognition at levels so deep within,
what are the odds, given the enormous differentials,
that the kin in kindred, would blossom across two lives,
where the oppositional factoids are exceptional

as if seeded in the fertile soil of the blank spaces,
between each of our poem's words and verses,
there secreted for each other, but gleaming visible
for all to see and uncover, even join in,
uncovering semi-hidden insertions and assertions of affinity

I confess

she stands behind me ofttimes in my mind, silently,
suggesting, reflecting, critiquing a word choice,
a nuanced pressure upon the hand redirecting,
with infiltrating suggestions imaginary

oh wordy me, four stanzas excised,
abstracted from the memories contained within my fingertips,
this, an accolade to the pleasuring of humanizing mystery connectivity,
when she, in the depth of her stylized brevity,
captures more than I, after hours of exercised trying,
in the succinct excalibur of her comprehension

*"We are an unstated understood"
 Jan 2017 K Mae
K Balachandran
A sprightly snail crawls,
etching a message as it moves;
cryptic conundrum.
Certain things are unknowable
Have you ever counted hour by the seconds
feeling intensely hungry for life?


If for once the sun forgets to rise
this night fails to usher in dawn
what my memories tell me are lies
it's today only I was born.

If this day is filled to the brim
in a blissful child's innocence
yesterday is a bad dream
tomorrow makes no sense.

If only this night is a ceaseless flow
never short of word for a rhyme
on her axis the earth spins slow
and the morn is away longtime.

If only I'm allowed to choose
to relive the life whole night
a fantasy is the hangman's noose
calling me by first light.
 Jan 2017 K Mae
martin
morphine took charge
night came on
and turned into mourning
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