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 Feb 2015 lloyd britton
PrttyBrd
Ah, to write with glorious sight
All life's joy and all its pain
To color in the shadows and highlight their beauty
To fill emptiness with gradients of emotion
Oh yes, a pencil can pierce a lung if stabbed with enough force
A sketch can elicit unexpected responses
And the words of a stranger can feel like home
In the subtleties of one's own emotion
In the thoughts that build our fear,
There is only loneliness when the pictures don't hit the page
For in our isolation, there is unity
In our pain... passion
In our hate... love
And in all things... beauty
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 Feb 2015 lloyd britton
PrttyBrd
The sea is all flow with no ebb
As the moon hangs full in the sky
He pulls her to him on a breeze
Salty, heavenly, mesmerizing
She comes as he softly beckons
The magnet draws her in close
She inches toward his cool gaze
With the warm water he yearns to drink
For he is parched
And she is giving
Flowing in gentle waves
He calls and she slinks to him in shadows
Locked in the gaze of desire
A gaze broken only by the pleasure
of the deluge of their union
And in that union there is tranquility
His peace releases her
She ebbs, quietly lapping the shore
She turns to see him smile upon her
As she sparkles in the warmth of his glow
21015
 Feb 2015 lloyd britton
Mirlotta
Paper faces on display behind their
crumbling, flaking paper masks.
Bodies carved from fragile glass
about to shatter as they dip and dance.
Longing for a false romance
to warm and burn their paper hearts.
Kisses underneath the stars;
the fraying smoke from their cigars.
What have I done to you?
My lambs ear child grown thorns
Along the backbone of our narrative
Each vertebra a catastrophe
And I can’t make skeletons fall in love with me
No matter how much flesh I force on them
And in the interludes of the symphony they wrote for us
I taught you dark by darkness
I watered you with gasoline
And snatched each word from off your tongue
I sprayed fresh poison into your lungs
And I can still recall
The twelve tears
Blurring that birthday
That suffocating epiphany
Of this-has-gone-too-far
And these aren’t scars
They’re time bombs
Landmines in the marrow of your bones
And this is not a ******* throne
It’s an electric chair
Look at me I dyed my hair
And I mourn us with the black around my eyes
Here we are we walk this line
I ask you how you are
And you say “fine”
And I am shocked at how much those thorns sting me
Every ******* time.
Evergreen and ivory
Turquoise tears bleed ebony
Fuchsia trees bear violet cherries
Blood oranges,
Mushroom clouds and ashberries.
These are the thoughts that grace my mind
As I turn to leave
Garden gnomes and rose scraped knees
Faster now
Faster than before
Kiss me golden,
Less, then more
And tell me who I am.
Coteries and clandestine deals
Soft-sweet midnight chamomile
And indigo aspirations
Somber February celebrations
Anniversaries white and red
Blue and green and white and red
And can you keep a secret?
Black-tea memories always slap me sleepless
And I have never known quite exactly how I feel.
Clementines suspended in yellow lamplight
Cross it out to scarlet rewrite.
Beige mountains and Alaskan hills
Crescent moon and sawdust mills
Silver smiles on a benign boat
Blessed if I'm an allusion to a footnote.
 Feb 2015 lloyd britton
Traveler
Angelical whisper
Beyond the spectrum of sound
Speaks to the downtrodden
Where brokenness abounds
Surely there must be a reason
For living in this maze
Dead ends like lost lovers
Children gone astray …

To live the life of morals
To seek out happiness
To hold a dying friend
To forgive the Judas kiss
All last but a moment
Like an eternal fleeting glance
As we pray somehow forever
   Holds a second chance...
Traveler Tim
Re-posted to November 2016
 Feb 2015 lloyd britton
Traveler
Is it evil or is it right
The death we face at the end of life?
Is there peace and all knowing
Do we reap the seeds we're sowing

Hear now the reaper's reasoning
Dust and bones, vultures feasting
Driven by an unknown calling
Life to death is but a stalling

I can not tell, nor can I dream
I can not feel your suffering
I can not ease your loved one's grief
Nor can I confirm your disbelief...

I am only a Reaper, heartless and cold
I put the end to growing old!
Traveler Tim
re to 04-18
Velvet soft skin
Playing fingernails
Dragging down your skin
You impeach me from my slumber
So i rise....

Steady i flow
onward to your rhythm
and we join as one

Hold me tight
Hold me please
A tear escapes its chamber
Iv longed for this
Iv begged for this
Save me from myself
Holding hands with my shadow
the source becomes apparent
as subtle nuances conglomerate,
the boundaries between them dissolve
my awareness begins to loosen
its grip on self-inflicted illusions
making room for
-- This Very Moment --
the culmination of pulsating particles
subjectively self-willed  .  .  .

The difficulty becomes
A source of ease as
perspectives adjust
the dust settles
& the inherent perfection
of each idiosyncrasy
dulls the duality of
my self-conception
From one thousand mountains the hawks flights are gone
Soaring freely & thinking clearly through the clouds in the sky
Not looking back persevering to fulfill the dreams
The dreams aren't solely an illusion in the mind
But a preview of future times
For the reality in the hawks mind is dreams of happiness
Clashing between difficulty & a paradox of what is seen & what is not seen
What is believed has 20/20 vision
A clear sight with no eyeballs
But a driven mind with great visual
Anticipating the future of success
Feeling blessed and alleviating stress
Persevering and passing all the tests
What lies is the wind which is the past
Securing things of desire at last
Achievement is a good friend
Resulting in a fulfilled end. . .
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