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 Apr 2014 Weariness
Liam
they say a watched *** never boils
but my mind certainly does
and i watch it all the time
it's never out of my sight
yet it's constantly spilling its contents
in a roiled turmoil
all over my consciousness

the result is a reduction
of my state of mind
of my perspective
either a concentrated awareness
or a flavorless sludge of grey matter
it all depends on the heat applied
it all depends on evaporation

a proper chef would be attentive
a saucier of good stock
choosing quality ingredients
maintaining a simmer
avoiding a seethe
controlling condensation
distilling even pabulum to perfection
 Apr 2014 Weariness
SG Holter
Wi-Fi
 Apr 2014 Weariness
SG Holter
When we don't speak
All signals are clear

As if undistorted by matters
Of heart's flesh and

Ego's transparent frailty.
Whether close as Siamese Lovers

Or a whole world apart; I have the
Password to the Wi-Fi of your soul.
 Apr 2014 Weariness
SG Holter
Poet, be not afraid.
There are far worse things than
Bad poetry.

Keep writing; like a child keeps
Drawing with the purest of
Disregards to likeness.

The more stones you turn, the more
Gems you produce.

The more ink you rain,
The more gracious your written
Children grow.

All flexing builds muscle.

Rough bricks form castles.

Even Dalì carved canvases to shreds
And started anew
Not caring too much.
Not caring

Too much
To keep painting.
 Apr 2014 Weariness
SG Holter
But they may very well the absolute
Middle ones.

Thank God they are a poem.
 Apr 2014 Weariness
Liam
my sweet boy is lost to me
or i am lost to him
as it once was
before together we were found
so shall we be
once again
found together
forever


                                            ­                                  
 Apr 2014 Weariness
Jack B
Do rage, and imagine the earth and the rulers saying, break away from us.
Laugh.
Then speak pleasure.
My art I shall give for the earth.
My second attempt at Blackout Poetry.  I did this one in a bible, Book of Psalms.
If you're curious, the original psalm reads:
Why do the heathen rage, and the people imagine a vain thing?
2 The kings of the earth set themselves, and the rulers take counsel together, against the Lord, and against his anointed, saying,
3 Let us break their bands asunder, and cast away their cords from us.
4 He that sitteth in the heavens shall laugh: the Lord shall have them in derision.
5 Then shall he speak unto them in his wrath, and vex them in his sore displeasure.
6 Yet have I set my king upon my holy hill of Zion.
7 I will declare the decree: the Lord hath said unto me, Thou art my Son; this day have I begotten thee.
8 Ask of me, and I shall give thee the heathen for thine inheritance, and the uttermost parts of the earth for thy possession.
 Apr 2014 Weariness
Jack B
i am fighting a disease,
so i became a ******.
my drug of choice: just to run.
to run each day with an unfeigned grit.

the medicine for my mind.
no need for a doctor to fill the prescription.
my morphine.
my high.
ease my anxious mind
and uplift my heavy heart.
calm floods my insides,
immersed in quiet rapture.
****** exhaustion settles in
and silences the disease-
those incessant, enslaving urges that regulate my every move
are replaced by stillness.
this
is bliss.
this one is personal/literal...first time working through some of my OCD via poetry.
 Apr 2014 Weariness
SG Holter
I shuffled off my armour, fought with bow, then sword,
Then knife, then handfuls of gravel and stones.

Pebble for arrow, the ones who joined my flesh
I tore out and hurled back in crimson sprays.

My children were too young for slavery.
My wife was too pretty to be left alone.

Home redused to ashes.
Family lost in an inferno of boots and blades.

I would rise from this.
I would arise a cold and hungry demon,

Composed by the devil that is revenge, justice in blood,
And plain, animal violence.

And you would see -before the life left your eyes-
That you created me.

You had nothing better to do,
So you created me.

You killed all I was,
And created me.

You were laughing

When you
Created me.
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