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intangible love
pink ash rose smile
wrapping
your
arms around
me again
pulling my soul
through
the
candlelight wind
Too much to ask for a genuine heart when mine is feeling foreign,
Like the absence of words that can be heard to rhyme with the colour orange
@copyright 2018 Luke Wallace
I have visited the land of over the moon happy
Where my tears created silent rivers
Being an ethnic woman
The exotic figure of many dreams
Feels like popping the champagne
And having to clean up the mess afterwards
I am both the star and the maid at the same time
Clean slate
at birth.
Filled up,
programed
over time.
Information
force fed,
pushed into
minds.
Created.
Created by
location,
environment.
Information
from the
past.
Ancient
information
told as truth.
Whose truth?
Earthly truths,
limited in
nature.
Billions
of galaxies,
one speck of
dust.
Most not
known, much
incorrect.
How to move
forward?
Understand,
we know
little.
Much of it
wrong.
Question
everything.
Accept nothing
as fact!
Clear the mind
of ancient
thought.
See infinity
straight on
and rethink
it all!
I had nothing... but my eyes painted with tears,
broken wings of so many passions and dreams,
petrified in overwhelming, ruthless silence,
torn by the screaming thoughts from the islands.
I had nothing... than infinite fear
to change my life, like I'm changing the gear,
stumbling in my own dreams with unbounded laces,
running on the road of sadness I left a few traces.

I have nothing... than my fiery heart that's blazing,
I have the relentless frowning in my judgment while racing.
It fills the gap between my soul and thoughts, one or two,
but I can not help it ... I lay my love in front of you...
because yes... I choose to love you like no other,
I dress my heart with the colours of your endless summer.
I may be a dreamer, but you brought me to the ground
from the living stars that I might have found.
Blow my heart now, so that it never hurts wearing the crown,
until the sweet death gets my eyelids to come down...

I'll have nothing... if I don't have you from the start,
I will have nothing... but a deserted heart
pulsing abnormally, pounding so fiercely, I will suffer,
but I know that you and I are destined for each other,
we just have to trust love, time and have much patience,
we have to want more of the burning dreams and sensations,
to dare to breathe through emotions the love of this century,
for our children to carry on our name and our memory...
Nobody cares about you
Nobody thinks you matter
Nobody thinks you’re smart
Nobody misses you
Nobody thinks you’re strong
Nobody thinks you’re beautiful
Nobody wants to support you
Nobody thinks you’re worth it
Nobody loves you
Nobody thinks you’re special
Nobody hopes your day is going well
Nobody thinks you’re kind
and Nobody thinks you deserve the world


but don’t you worry
because my name is Nobody
although it may seem like “nobody cares” i can rest assure you that someone does care
please take care of yourself xo
“every one shall sit in safety un­der his own vine and fig tree and there shall be none to make him afraid.”*

Letter from George Washington, 1790, to the Jewish community of Newport, Rhode Island


  <•>

multiple motifs present poesy alternatives,
but one supremes

safety in your own chosen orchard,
supping on clear water, wine and figs
children of trees, nurtured by one’s own hands,
children of your children, running the grove,
shouting out in sweet safety

the wasps happy shameless pollinate,
dreaming of more generations,
ruefully smiling, thinking of
Adam and Eve, who ashamed of
their apple’d sexuality,
hid their nakedness of course beneath
the safety of
fig leaves

you do not pray for safety
you do not ask for anything,
nothing to fear says the father,
for you already live in our own
George’s garden of eden
Received a call from
a suspect fraud line.
I answered:

“Sheriffs office.
Fraud division.
How may I help you?”

Funny thing happened.
Line went dead.
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