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 Sep 2014 Lambert Mark Mj
Born
I still write about life's tragedy
and its circulations
the things that call for celebrations
and the ones that cause damnations

Am not good with goodbyes
i  never was
when things grew tough
i walked away

I've never felt a thing
i escaped attachments
i stayed away
and embraced solitude

I know most of us don't
understand my poems
my character is not that out
standing
i dodged bullets
and my heart grew solid
 Sep 2014 Lambert Mark Mj
mike dm
To bleed the binary
And speak fluent touch and
jaguar yawn
Is that asking for too much?

Think on it, friend

But there is no time to think
The hands circling
Always circling
Losing their clutch

Sloth
Downed from
The canopy

Little small
Specks of ****
Will be the end of him

All that is accomplished in cubes
-time well spent-
Mustn't ever reach
A white-eared Sibia
Alighting a Sakura tree flush in pink
Drenched
in the cool warm glow
Of a winter star that now must go

Swift quarter-inch turns of the head
Lazily nimble
In its slim space
-it could even fly away if it so wishes-

While he
files away widgets

His time is near
He feels it
thread stripped
From the twist the twist
These's a trail of tears
That we take through life
From the valley low
By the river tide
From the shallow graves
On the mountain side
A trail of tears
That we try to hide

The trail of tears
Is the path we take
Where we seldom learn
From our past mistakes
The slippery *****
Has a lot to say
On the trail of tears
That this life has made

The trail of tears
As we move along
Hoping in the end
It'll end in song
From the daylight break
To the evening gone
This trail of tears
That we all are on
We are the-
Unattainable
Lampshades--flickering
On and off-
In-and-out
With
And without.

--And her skin
Is all I can breathe.

I write in cartilage
Memoirs just to feel
Unfeeling.

But we love unfairly
Until digging nails
Into walls--

Becomes beautiful

We-the-unreachable
We were in a book together.
We were on the same page.

But
there was a small margin
on the left
You left me in the margin.
Like a scant reference note,
which was soon to be erased.
He was often a little shy round the opposite ***
His shyness caused so often his mates to be vexed
But this lady he decided he’d ask for a date
Though he fully expected a miserable fate.

So he asked her to dinner one summer long ago
And to his utter bewilderment she didn’t say no
They fell for each other and they talked all night long
And from that night on his heart filled with song.

Each Valentine’s Day he sends her a rose
He oft writes her poems or occasionally prose
His love no bounds nor does her love for him
Each feeling their hearts are filled to the brim.

No longer that shy like he was once before
They married and he carried her over the door
She bore him two children who they love oh so much
Their love so ethereal, bewildering to touch.

If ever you meet the person who makes your heart glow
And you’re both free to love, then perhaps let them know
You’ll both read the signs and then maybe it will be
That you too will have a life as happy as me.



©Joe Wilson – No longer shy…2014
 Sep 2014 Lambert Mark Mj
Day
Am I selfish for wishing you
would learn to tether yourself to me instead?

If waves were miles and each break an hour,
we could pretend to know math and call it
science, based on sands that have pulled us closer
and this collision of horizon I childishly wish
would be you and I.


I promise to keep you together
much better than she ever did--

- To not be broken about it,
and to teach you that making someone
love you
isn't your "fault".
*

This is not my place,
however,
and I am just waiting for history to
reset.
 Sep 2014 Lambert Mark Mj
Rupal
I would rather be empty
Than lead a shallow life.
Dear Willa,

I'm writing you for health and recovery, not just selfish feelings of affection. The truth is your love haunts me still. When I turn off my lights at night, its as if you're in the corner of the room still whispering sweet gestures in my ear. My love persists without permission and only rears itself in my dreams. You are not just the girl of my dreams, you ARE the girl of my dreams. Even though your physical presence left me long ago, your phantom stays in my mind, caressing me and keeping me company in the loneliest crevasses of my brain. I miss you every morning and think of you often in waking life, though it seems harmful for me. I can't help but think of you when just the night before you smiled at me so sweet and told me you still love me in so many different scenes. It appears that when I told you my heart was yours with my hands cupped together with nothing but air in them and tears in my eyes, I was giving you more than I knew.

It's only you for me, just like the whooping crane, for he has a wife his for all his life and if she dies, he'll do the same.

Goodnight,
My Hotpak
love letter
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