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The moon is bright
The stars are heavy
Anchors of light
Holding steady

They breathe with the motion
Of a thousand waves
Little dots in an ocean
Swimming to forgotten graves

When sunlight rises
Over the bold horizon
Their twisted shadows burn
In shallow crisis

Wreathed in fire
Their flames die out
Like candles to a pyre
Or thirst to a drought
Death blew through today
took a thousand souls
and went on his way
Nothing to give, only to take
just left tears flowing in his wake.

I saw him on the news gloom
my dad says he was ever present
in the emergency room
opened the door for my nanny
she said no it's too soon.

Religious quarrels pave his way
hard economic times make his day,
no prayers or pleas are heard
just collecting souls, in the wind like a bird.

The storms, wars, and accidents
make it necessary to dig holes
to take the very young and very old
and those that always sell their souls.

Yes, death had a long day today
so hard to see the sorrow and
the young and the old beg and borrow.
The widows and the mothers crying
and so many dying.

It is a fact of life
we must go when we are through with the strife
a quarter for the ferryman
or to take the incarnation of death by the hand
either way we cannot stay.

Namaste....
So much death and loss in my family and in the news lately. Thought i'd let my feelings out. Hope you enjoy. Write on...................
We used to grow here
A sanctuary for our sacraments
We used to know here
A safety from our pain

We used to learn here
Insights from the Other Shore
We used to yearn here
Aching for more

We thought we could stay here
We thought we knew this place
We thought we were safe here
We thought that here we could find space

We lost the fire here
That used to light our day
We lost desire here and
Sought another way

We lost traditions
And friends we used to love
We lost a comfort
That used to be enough

We found a new path
Unfolding up ahead
We found a new place
To rest our weary head

We found a center
From which to radiate
We found a new way
Our thirst to satiate

We looked behind us and
Saw where we have come
We saw with each step
We never left our home

We journey on, yes, and
Maybe change our stance
We never leave, though, our
Home -- this endless dance
 Oct 2014 once privileged
Denisse
I love words until I became one
I am made up of incomplete phrases
Not everyone knows who I am
And at some points, no one wants to understand

My mind is a dictionary of joy, pain, love, happiness and sadness
My heart is a pile of poetry
I can be the prettiest written song
Or the most beautiful sonnet that chills thy bone

My words can be a perfect haiku
I can turn every single thoughts in my mind to be a perfect sentence that complete the story
I can be the longest-endless novel
Or I can be the most  special prose that you'll never get bored of reading..
We write to express ourselves and at the same time to know who we are. I love my life, i love to blend it in the most beautiful metaphors. My thoughts are composed of poetic voices and to minimize the casualty, I know I have to inked them.
Darkness, it's so mysterious
A sign of the abyss
We can't penetrate it with our eyes
We will never no what's beneath

It can be a color called black
Which people will wear
It's for grieving and for sadness
And for protection too
They won't come near, if they fear
The emotional abyss
The one that in srounded by our
Dark outfit

It can be a hiding place
For those who always fear
With no lights they can't come near.
It gives us a place of freedom
But it frees our enemies too
We can't see them coming,
The monsters under the bed.
As they hide within
Their darkened mist
In the dark abyss.

It can be the unknown,
A shade of mystery.
We are all left in the dark
When we think of this shade.
We can't see, we can't know
Whatever lies beneath,
Is unknown to us humans
As it wiggles in the deep.

It can be evil
The sign of tainted good
The color white muddied,
By the darkened sins.

It shows us when to hide
Since the monsters come at night
It is the spookist of colors
The one that shows us death.

But it can be beauty too,
A protective guard over us.
A shroud of mystery
To keep the others guessing.

It lets us be alone
When we truly wish.
It hides us from our enemies
And keeps the small ones safe

After all when its night
And we all wish to sleep
We plunge our selves into darkness
And welcome the abyss.
Repost if the darkness has ever shown you beauty, protection or hope. And please comment I'm always happy to see what you have to say about my poems
If I only I could know
the dept of your mind;
The Hell you put me through;
The consecrated B.S. that
only flutters your mind-
putting me inside out.
The assault, impeding comprehensible
Delusions of your own mind.
The character of a dog-
the dog that screeches at
himself constantly over and over again.
I can only imagine the head-
ache that you place your-
self for no words are given lightly.
There is a time to make
things right- and that time
is not now- and will not be later.
The sooner the later, only
reality can make that call.
I can only imagine the
hurt you are feeling; yet,
the character assault makes
it obvious- that day of judgment
answered your evil questions-
no wonder that only if
I could mediate between you
this low-life will only
be considered the Character Assault of my life.
He is the silence inside me,
The only thing that brings me peace.
He is the calm place in my mind
That centres all the chaos inside.
Then he was gone,
I am adrift in my own madness.
I once saw through your eyes. Now you're as transparent as everything else. Grey, hollow, meaningless, apathy. Cigarette's fuel the smoke. If I smeared the smudge with alcohol, you'd come back as painful revelations. These sensations and vibrations take me for a ride. Walking down the street is a pain as I feel the pain in your eyes. The inactivity down the subconscious subway is beyond painful. You might as well not even exist. I'm halfway there already.
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