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preston 9h

You remember..
  and you know it

you were  on
the swing
  and I walked up to you

You were too young then—
not yet quite in high school
and I was not yet old enough
  to drive

  but old enough to know better

Still.. I needed you to know
so I walked up to the swing—
the one at the park- on
your way to school

and I stopped you  mid swing
and I gazed into your eyes
by grabbing the only thing
that made your swing,  swing--

          the  c h a i n s.

  They bring  you forward
  as you keep trying
but the they're fastened  too

       to keep you from flying..

          the very thing
       you have always wanted to do

For way too long
we've settled for these lies
when so much more
has been waitin' on the other side
I think it's time
we crossed this river so wide
leave these shores--  step off the edge

leave it all behind

Cut loose..  cut loose the ties
let go,  let it go:
fly,   fly

you can fly..
preston 5d
Selmhem Naise

Keep writing
about the
because your way of
describing it
is a description all its own.

In the magic of your words
you are able to somehow make
the intangible almost feel
as though it can become tangible.

And for myself-- It takes all
I have to keep from being
drawn-in too deeply into
your words. I do best
by letting the words
all but destroy me; so
that there's not a lot left of me
(my-destructive side)  to
bring itself to the table.

The destruction I feel-  there's
an immediate tearing down of

and an instantaneous building up
of hope and celebration--

    the true  deeper side of me
    absolutely digs that ****.
Ya true story.

preston 5d

Keep letting the words of your own writes
have their way with you-- let them climb
all over you and 'destroy' you  with the
love-message they carry within them.

People who read and feel your writes
will respond from their heart, and in those
responses, you are no longer alone--  you
then carry a piece of them with you that the
expression of your own heart has created.

    There is a magic in that kind of healing.

The words of others back towards you
become alive in your own heart  as the
realness of it all comes to you
                        in a moment's flash.

That is what is called the living word..
and also the healing light of relationship.
Know that, friend--

    that is what is healing you.

I don't mind spendin' everyday
out on your corner, in the pourin' rain
Look for the girl with the broken smile
ask her if she wants to stay awhile

and she will be loved,
and she will be loved

preston Oct 22
Stephan W

I have seen you there,
standing alone, along the shoreline
    --if you only knew--
Your thoughts- a poetic buffering,
spoken out- onto weathered paper,
through trembling hands;  words
let in to the ocean wind--
the dreams of your heart, the needs,
ah, yes.. the deep needs of your heart...

    among these rocks,
    you are always alone.

At the tip of your fingers-- the small ridges;
fragmental, yet monumental imprints, etched
in to you, the moment your spirit entered
your temple. They tell the world of your story:
through fine, texture-perception, you feel it--
your trembling fingers grip the pen, expressing,
conveying your truth into a world that does not
hear.. a shallowing, that deafens..

    You glance at your fingertips--
    to assure, you're really there
    ~ ~

(The sea has picked up a bit, now
the waves, crashing against the rocks
rocks, that still won't hear..)

And here also, outlined
within the warm beat of the
human heart,
there is a sound that can be heard--
one similar to the aliveness
of the crashing waves.
Place your fingertips against those
that are real-
the sound blends-in perfectly
with the sea
as the uniqueness of imprinted ridge,
moves up against that of the other--
contrasting, here.. fitting together
perfectly, there..

    Scream, "I am!" to the sea; and see, love..
    scream it out, and see.
    ~ ~ ~

I am everywhere near you-- encouraging,
celebrating.. at times, weeping;  hands
outstretched, the uniqueness of my
own finger prints, longing
Along this shoreline, I have watched you
for an eternity, hoping
that you might somehow take it all, in.
Clouds beckon, asking again for the
earth's moisture

      and I respond,  e v ap o r a t i ng.

      ~ ~ ~ ~

Your small, beautiful feet, now
all pigeon-toed- now, standing
at the water's edge; as the
rain cloud gives up its prize
just beyond the breakers--

    (my imprint remains,
    but I am of the sea now..)

    Wade into me, love
    that I may wrap myself around you:
    Along this shoreline,
    may you never be alone again.

The voices in the wind,
will take you home again,

the journey home has just begun, my friend

The magic in your eyes,
was more than I surmised
and I surrender time and time, again

To the will of the wind;
the will of the wind, child
The wind in the wind chimes,
takes you home again..

the will of the wind
dancing, dancing..  dancing

this one always makes me cry
  Oct 21 preston
rest, rest, baby, on my ankles, feel the skin sink it: rink with skates on, cradling figure eights on, get inside the wrapper,
speaking French by the gate hoping the door would open to the commanding plea: once the gates open, stampedes of brown sugared roaches, which shed skin daily, reluctantly through the thinned walls and under cracks.
he refused to talk to me, besides one small moment in time: I broke through his timelessness with mania. it turned him on; I know I hurt him, it made him throb inside his skull.
and here i sit wonderin' where mercury is: can the moon shine some light on me? neptune please stop tricking me, stay right here near my sun and mouth:
**** my *******, neptune, come inside, neptune, come inside-outside come by inside, neptune:
liquor bounces off of my derriere smoke hazes forward: plume grasps your neck and chokes you out, the fog gets thicker.
poles glued to our hands, the pendulum of swirling up and spinning down;
sliding with pearls of sweat, capsules of fluids prance on the floor under my heeled feet, jewels bang against collarbones that hold a vase of gold ash.
handprints, bruises, tight grips on thighs: silkened ripe ***** bounce down to take all someone needs.
here she sings to me in a repeating step-harmony, i close my eyes and see the love-drunk maroon fill my entire vision, there is no black:
the Goddess guides me, it is I singing the song: we sing. she caresses my ears with her intangible lips . . . i stretch to hear the call of a few angels, perhaps begging or commanding I serve them, serve me. i feel connected to the nature of You i feel You. we are here, i roll my neck and close my eyes:
your blood rushes to me, I cry when I feel the images of you: who should I call my godly servants, I am. apart of you in this earth there should not be any servitude, but I know my reluctance on Earth has to do with not wanting to follow God's melody, not the creator God but the God of Being.
Goddess fluorescent. and now the angel that visited me, that kissed my cerebrum, she has flown away, providing me with images,and him, the angel who watches me in that space between Earth and Heaven, goes back to looking at me through the reflection of his sweet watered pond, smiling as he dangles his arm lazily into the water, creating ripples:
the same ripples I feel when I ******, when I blush, when I think of him, when I get the seed of God.
preston Oct 18

Is it asking  too much
to want to hide away  safely?
I never should have met you

yet, I have been  looking
for you all of my life--


You are in me now
so deep;  our spirit's gears  perfectly
synced- each gear a pre-honed..
  precision fit--
                even when we clash

                Especially-  when we clash;
                and somewhere,
                in the depths of  my love

                I hate you for that

      In a broken world...
      dreams were  n e v e r  meant
      to come true.

      I think I read that  somewhere,
      or maybe someone told me..


              or something.

preston Oct 15
Stephan W

My beauty is resisting the worldly pull-- to
slip into lethargic un-consciousness,
in order to no longer feel the anxiety
brought about by non-response to the
primal-question's asking,

But instead is choosing to feel it all-- and in
doing so- it, is costing her everything.
She is showing us all what true courage is about,
suffering for the greater good:
for that which is within herself
for her children
for all womankind-- and therefore, for all of man-kind also.
She is the firstfruits of the Universe's
deepest dream; that of a full restoration,
allowing herself to be cut-open, internal parts, rearranged,
heart regenerated, rebuilt through love's magical ways
her mind, being renewed through understanding,
repetition of love's true ways, washing it clean
from the shame unfairly pressed upon her
by the broken, fallen love of man

She is the new Eve-- this beautiful-one,
free from the need to re-create what love is--
she is open, believing.. her beautiful receptors-
perfectly aligned with the harmonic-tones
emanating from the garden, as she walks.

And I.. Adam, love her deeply.
There is an ache with in my side-- a reminder
of my consent of its removal
so that I would no longer have to be so alone in all this magic
and as I struggle, taking in all that is beautiful about her,
I see now that she was not produced from me,
the man

But that I was the oyster,
and she, the beautiful pearl--
the one beyond all price,
the shimmering diamond-- formed,
within this lovestrong lump of coal;

over millions, and millions of years.

I sit in awe as I watch her
she has been worth every moment
of the wait.

"Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth;
for the first heaven and the first earth passed away,
and there is no longer any sea;
And I saw the holy city, new Jerusalem,
coming down out of heaven from God,

made ready as a bride adorned for her husband.
..and God himself will be among them.

And he will wipe away every tear from their eyes;
and there will no longer be any death;
there will no longer be any mourning, or crying, or pain;

--the first things have passed away.”
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