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 Jul 2017 LR Thompson
Em E
I closed my eyes,
lids down against the fire of the afternoon sun,
and through those new curtains I could no longer penetrate.
And so I turned inward instead
seeing the fire within my head,
the glowing embers radiating
out in a spinning, shifting, turning
series of wheels and tiles, burning
a deep glowing red,
then cycling through to hottest white
And the purple and blue
of deoxygenated blood
Returning to my lungs for another breath,
To gather the elements to delay my death
Working with my heart
To keep me vibrating
Every part in tune,
Each cell cradling me within
A billion tiny wombs comprising my skin, my flesh,
Incubating every spark of me that is
(my spirit).
That fire that burns within those spiralling rainbow hues,
that welcoming tapestry of space connecting me to you
and everything.
I saw this only when I closed my eyes
and let the sunlight filter through.
 Jun 2017 LR Thompson
Em E
The world looks freshly painted
directly after the rain,
each surface glistening in the streetlight:
newly created.
As if a great artist
in a flash of inspiration
(like the strike of lightning
that preceded this storm)
envisioned this all in her head,
called it instantaneously into being
on her canvas.
All the colors, still wet,
slowly flowing into each other.
The pavement, the fallen leaves,
my footprints trailing through.
At the corner, I look behind me.
My footprints are gone, ****** into the paint;
it smoothed itself out as I passed, in my wake.
Wet and breathing spring: a perpetually-renewing clean slate.
 May 2017 LR Thompson
 May 2017 LR Thompson
I never got the sun,
A shooting star got there first.
So I played catch with the moon
And when I took my hands away
My fingers bore

But the moon doesn't have flames,
So the fire must be in me.
The moon should have some burn marks though
Otherwise the whole thing has been a façade.
I used to love you
Now I forget how
With fresh flowers blooming
And teardrops melting in little ponds
I used to love you
Now love dissolves
Like sugar in lemon water
It isn’t even your fault

My heart isn’t broken
No fire burns within me
You’re just a person
I used to love
I guess one day it just decided
To stop beating for you
Heart and mind agreeing
I used to love

What I used to do
Now you do
When you stop chasing
They start thinking about you
Without the curse
It’s surprisingly painless
No tides swallow me now
I used to love you
free at last
 May 2017 LR Thompson
Jake M
 May 2017 LR Thompson
Jake M
The next time you wander through
the Forest,
give attention to
what makes it live.

From towering oak trunk to timid
wisps of grasses,
blows through.

Though rampant branches jut
in chaotic cacophony,
wind calms the fray:
harmonic, swaying, symphony.

To refer to Wind by her name
seems almost unfitting.
Product of the sun itself,
impossible to be un-felt,

Wind pervades.
She's a comforting breeze on a calm day,
who soothes whatever goes wrong,
forever on the mind when she's gone.

Perhaps Wind could be better called
by a name that captures all
her beautiful, ceaseless soul,
twisting through life.

My Love,
they should call the wind

a poem written for my first love
 May 2017 LR Thompson
Styles 12
I heard her thoughts breathe.


she needed something with Redwood patience to understand why her mind traveled with butterflies searching for Eden.

Said, she felt ants inside her dreams carrying away the dead.

wondered if there was no limits to how her heart could grow or communicate with anything.

I saw her quaking eyes search for a place to land back before the first words that God said.

She felt the masterpiece come alive at midnight it spoke beyond all languages, treaded outside of logic, flew outside of time, connected itself with everything alive and spoke to her with a simple grace.

Everything is already yours.
Your heart is the doorway home.

She took a piece of me when she left, left an ice pick for me to play with.

Her sensitive nature understood why roots dug down in a quest for warm solace.

My heart almost closed forever, I felt the final straw detour me to wasteland.

I ran emerald frontiers in her eyes,
butterflies landing on my hands
their wings stained my eyelids
I can't go to sleep without flying through her.

my heart headed to the outskirts of Eden
imagining how she is
Loving her from behind bars
Her butterflies never seeking
my garden.

It almost wilted.

Windy wrath almost destroyed it all.

I had to search the silence
Try to understand myself through a tortured past, I had to tame your tyrant that grew inside my head.

I had to bear the weight of impatient voices that I could not repeat to anybody here
but the dead already know it,
Ones that died by their own hand.

I heard her thoughts breathe


our roots go past the stars
hidden in our beating blood
is the whisper and light of God.
 May 2017 LR Thompson
mσσnlíght ín thє mєαdσw
cαѕtѕ thє ѕhαdσw σf thє trєєѕ
í cαtch α glimpse of ѕílvєr
αѕ thє вrαnchєѕ cαtch thє вrєєzє
thєrє'ѕ juѕt α ѕσund σf ruѕtlíng lєαvєѕ
ín ѕσlítudє í ѕtrσll
thє wσσdѕ αrє mínє thíѕ єvєníng
αѕ í plαч thє wσmαn'ѕ rσlє
pαuѕíng вч thє rívєrвαnk
thє ѕчmphσnч вєgínѕ
thє ruѕhíng wαtєr'ѕ cσuntєrpσínt
tσ lívє σαk'ѕ crєαkíng límвѕ
thє gєntlє wínd, thє tєmpσ mαkєѕ
αnd í вєgín tσ hєαr
thє rhчthm σf thє pulѕє σf lífє
αn єαrth ѕσng ín mч єαr
hσw ѕwєєt thє єvєníng ѕєєm tσ mє
αríαѕ fíll thє níght
αnd thєn thєч mαkє α chσruѕ
αѕ thє mσσn rєѕumєѕ hєr flíght
hσmєwαrd вσund, í pαuѕє αnd líѕtєn
α mєlσdч ѕσ ѕwєєt
rєgrєtfullч, thє ѕpєll íѕ gσnє
nσw, juѕt thє trαffíc'ѕ вєαt
Happy Earth Day!
 Apr 2017 LR Thompson
Some dead things just won't lay down
We keep walking
Long after we've died
Wreaking havoc upon the living
what little of ourselves that remains alive in
Tears and shame
Throwing up on sidewalks
Bringing the occasional young stranger home
To get that little drip of pleasure
From his heartbreak at dawn
But apparently
This kind of "self help"
Isn't working
Tomatoe juice with celery sticks
And people behind desks in
Ugly polyester suits with framed papers on their walls and a prescription or two
Is now
Rehab for the dead
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