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the calendars get tossed out
and the funeral cards
stack high.
I sit and wonder
where it all went,
the connection that is,
deforming and reforming
with glimmering threshold
as the past becomes a dream,
love becomes a sudden tragedy
and the music continues to play
through and through.
we simply
are not
there.
What lines offer evenness
Amongst a passionate play?
Would not actors stand in line
Waiting to play in the heated Malay?
Roles cast of heart strings
Tied between lines whispered phrases.
What right has any character
To come alive whilst on stage?

One scripted part comes right on cue
As one mark meets the other
Right in the middle of the author’s view.
The background accompaniment
Playing softly to the screen test.
When suddenly one moves the other
While that one moves all the rest.

They stray from the script confusing all the stage.

At first tip toes lead into a scripted kiss
But then she falters losing her gauge.
Music continues its composure
While feet flounder in the demise.
She becoming the new composer
As he gets lost somewhere in her eyes.
They came to try out,
To play love in a play.
But what began to play out
Was a true love – some say.

For they could not hold back
And before all the audience,
Shoulders touch while hand in hand.
He breaks rank against the lines
While their lips cover each others
Engulfing love’s unscripted reach.

The music changing tempo
Giving more meaning to each.
Passions groping forward
Creating a brand new play.
She losing her shoes
As he shed his spats.
Non refrained skin opens and just
As this was about to become a part of that's,
The curtain swiftly closing as
The audience’s heads all tilt sideways.

Oh well - after all it was a passion’s play.
Maybe the author knew it wasn’t important what to say.
Once started, the lines conjure up
Loves unscripted intent.
Unprepared actors
Lose their marks
Lovingly spent.
Don't you ever wonder if the actors in this life's play are the people we want to be? Sometimes we read our scripted lines repeating the same things over and over again. In this piece the actors loose themselves daring to refuse to repeat what has been scripted for them to say. The irony is that when we witness anyone varying from what's expected, we generally shut the curtain on them. Only in poetry can we venture on....
Clouds rolling across our azure sky
As far as my eyes could see.
The white man told us another lie
For he just couldn’t let us be.
Behind us all of our homes were burned,
Nothing as far as they were concerned.
Destroying us and all our years
Marching us onto the trail of tears.

Behind the mask they wore a disguise
In an attempt to cover their lies.
Teardrops falling like rain
While our blood spilled again and again.
One in front of another across our sacred land,
Oh if only we could have had our last stand.
Destroying us and all our years
Marching us on the trail of tears.

First the weakest fell, then the old
Then the youngest, all turning cold.
First my Aunt, then my mother,
Then father, my son, my brother.
I carried them all as far as I could
While the soldiers beat my manhood.
Destroying us and all our years
Marching us into the trail of tears.

I focused on one soldier with a crooked cross
As he told us it wasn’t far off -
I must killed him a thousand times.
He laughed and spoke in white man’s rhymes
As my feet began to bleed.
Cold, hunger, thirst, the water we need -
Denied to us and all our years
Marching us down the trail of tears.

More than a thousand miles we walked
And yet today my people are un-talked.
Could you walk barefoot in the cold that long
When all those you loved fell so wronged?
All for nothing but a gold filled piece of land
From which we, my people were banned -
Removing us and all of our years.
Crawling us along in our trail full of tears.
Somewhere in this society there is something so evil afoot. It's not anything new. As a matter of fact it's more common than you think. Daily the news is full of man's injustice to man. Yet all it would ever take is for those who claim to be good or righteous to stand up and put a stop to it all. But in corners of the world the trail of tears continues. All for some form of greed. I just don't understand.
As you breath,
With trapped lungs,
Like a fly caught,
In the silkiest of webs.
Her manifold shell,
Multiple eyes of harrowing,
A succubus to the harmless,
dampening a gentle candle lit,
In sheer darkness.

******* on our blood,
Like a hundred leaches,
Her nature thicker than mud.
Fluid runs smooth,
like ash and water,
but she stains your heart,
in gray poisonous matter,
Using you like puppet on strings,
from the very start.

She hides behind the lies,
That she fills within your head,
like a hot air balloon,
soaring through skies,
Unaware of what's below,
Avoid prickly skinned women,
They'll eat you alive.
Just a quick write. Many people can probably relate!
Your memory evokes my dew drops like tears
To fill up the seven oceans of your world
With every blink of my eye
You adore seven seasonal colors
I too wear those rainbow colors and
Dance around in your inner oceans
I've also stolen your seven body fragrances &
I wear them one for each day
- Sunday to Saturday...
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