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 Jan 2017 Louise Ruen
Devin Ortiz
People cheat for many different reasons
But almost none of them involve you

Being enough is not a factor
Listing the things that could be done
Differently is a waste of precious time
Because it truly wasn't you, it was them

Some do it for power, some do it for control
Some do it in loneliness, some do it in emptiness

Whatever the reason, remember it isn't you.
It is a mental compulsion, a temptation
That some otherwise extraordinary people
Fail to overcome, inhibit or control.

This isn't a justification, nor is this an excuse
I just want you to know these things
Are not because of you.
 Jan 2017 Louise Ruen
Chris
dreamers
 Jan 2017 Louise Ruen
Chris
here's to the ones
who live past the pain
here's to the hearts that ache.
here's to the ones
who swim through the stains
of lonely past-framed loves.
here's to the ones
that dream.

here's to the ones
that hope for a future
a dance with the day
that takes toes from the ground.
a ballad with air
an air-struck floating found
in romance.

here's to the ones
who look for the heart
leap without looking
for the girl
and the mess they made.
i'll always remember
her flame.
here's to the poets
who dream.
here's to the words
they leave.

i'd fall without looking
and tumble into her
again.
her heart was so freezing
i spent a month sneezing
but i think i would do it again.
here's to their hearts
and the mess they made.

bring on the rebels,
her rubbles,
and both of our devils.
bring on her smile,
and how she dared to
dream.

here's to you
for daring to extremes.
here's to me
capturing our feelings
foolish as it may seem.
here's to the future.
and here's to our hearts
for living their dreams.
less of a poem, more of a rewrite. inspired by a musical number from my second favorite movie. "a bit of madness is key, to give us new colors to see" i love poetry. i love film. i love art. and i love you.
In the night somewhere
A baby cries
And somewhere else
Lovers sigh
And as time passes
An old man dies

Somewhere out in space
A planet turns
And light years away
A star sun burns
Making us merely dust
And no-one learns

                                 By Phil Roberts
 Jan 2017 Louise Ruen
Anna Starr
I tried to tune the radio
The waves were being erratic
I tried to twist the knobs
But then i was left with static
No hums, no notes
White noise screamed its way
Into the hollow canals of my ear

Oh how i miss the gentle breeze of the piano
The twang of country guitars
Played by those whose voices
Come from the deepest corners of their hearts
I have lost my ability to hear.
Your silence spoke volumes.

I can't hear you anymore.

*Can you hear me?
you who are beauty
stolen from the moon’s mansion
a dress the color of coral

to hold one close
is to burn with longing
while your duty is calling you away

so remember
that all my arrows are broken
and you are the compass
that leads men to freedom

believe in tigers
for their smile is wider than
two elephants kissing

almost a minute has passed
yet without the raft of god
no man can ever return to land

the shore is lonely
without your heart
so hurry and lift up
the rocks that have fallen

remember that once bitten by this mosquito
a mountain will grow from your soul’s exhalation
and reach the sun by morning’s official dawning

give way to the peaceful blessing
or sing me to sleep while i am expecting
dreams to caress me
and utter my name in your dizzying voice
music is the throats way of filling itself with joy

loops from your ear
sting like the water
on a cold pacific beach
I jump from those cliffs into rivers of speech

instant release is ready for you
if you are willing to help yourself
to a second serving of madness

relatives drift like targets
before your eyes
treat them like savages
and voice savage longing
for kindness and lightning bugs to carry
while you were left waiting
in the days before
we knew each other’s eyes
string theory summarizes the way we are nothing
vibrating like something, becoming diamonds
residual consciousness burning like millions of onions
ministers of death set the test, reminiscent of themselves
exceptions are everywhere, so elevate the burning flag
and raise the consciousness, as jah is my witness
your mind is a prison, simple living is eloquent
like swinging from a vine into water,
that is cleaner than your heart
tragic embankments push the plow
through heavy piles of clouded dynamics
communication is complicated
when there are no parties involved who are present
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