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MikeTheVike Nov 2017
...

Set   Fire   to   the   beach!

T h e  c r u e l  s u n  c r i e d.

While the edge of the earth

licked it's rays with the tide

his skin like a paper; it peels and curls and cracks
the heat like a vapor; it seals and swirls and traps
                     i t s e l f    i n s i d e    h i s    c e l l s                          
                                     ­    

   a virus encircles above                    
                
                                               ­       just a seaside paloma        

                 i m p r e g n a t i n g  skin                                              
          ­                                  
                              ­                      with malignant melanoma        
                                  

his doctor like a butcher; with hands he chops and stains
his pain like a structure; it stands and burns and caves
i n      o n      i t s e l f

Set   fire   to   his   cells!

The   cruel   chemo   cried

while the wicked bag of morphine

dripped drops at his side


...
© Mike Mortensen
  Nov 2017 MikeTheVike
Star BG
I am scared that when I'm
Mothers age of 91
my memory
too will leave.
And than my life will be
of one who wanders
in a memory wing
waiting for a meal
and visitor I barely know.
inspired by Mike Mortensen
  Nov 2017 MikeTheVike
Cobalt
Why should you limit yourself to being just pretty?
Don't be just pretty.

Be a storm, beautiful, dark, intelligence flashing across your eyes like lightning and a voice as loud as thunder. Be a storm and never be silent.

Be a forest, rooted, wise, strong and unmovable in the force of opposition and yet a dancer in the wind. Be a forest, and loyal to your land.

Be the ocean, glittering, mysterious, captivating thousands of hearts and countless lives in your allure. Be the ocean, and be ruthless.

Be nature. I guarantee nothing will get you farther.
  Nov 2017 MikeTheVike
Tyese Chumov
Sin is lost
The lost are found

By his grace
Where love abounds

The flesh is weak
The heart is sore

Here I wait
To hear the roar

My Lord my God
My solid stone

Can you take
What has been thrown?

You are the One, you are my own
You hear my heart
Beat through the groan
  Nov 2017 MikeTheVike
mel
an ocean rises
beneath your shallow
eyes and i have never
been so afraid of
d r o w n i n g
in my entire
l i f e
i'm still holding my breath for you
always
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