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 Dec 2016 Raul Zamarripa III
vhea
i can feel you fading away
with every moment that passes
i miss you
the way you looked over at me with intent,
the way you caressed my hand softly,
the way you smiled at me when
you thought i didn’t notice
did i miscalculate everything?
did i over-analyze every word you were saying?
i can feel you getting further
your absence is becoming more evident
i don’t want to say goodbye
I'm leaving it up
to somebody else.
The battle scars
are notched on my belt.

Come take my wounds,
I'll leave burdens behind.
I'll shut myself in
and close the blinds.

I didn't know there was a battle
that could be fought within
against the weight of
despair
and the fires of sin.

The kindles of hope,
the ladders of strength,
tested by life
and its brittle length.

Just lay me to rest
where I
unsheathed the sword
come strike me down
in absence
of the Lord.

I'm seeking the peace
that I struck to p.i.e.c.e.s,
that I replaced with pleasure
and its demanding releases.

When you're broken down
and I'm broken in kind,
let's give up the fight
and leave burdens behind.

It'll all crumble,
the world and the sword,
and we will all mumble,
eternally
ignored;
for sinners will stumble,
in sight of the Lord.
Feeling a lot stronger than I have in a long time.
Hopefully, this will make you stronger, too.

Enjoy :)

DEW
 Dec 2016 Raul Zamarripa III
vhea
if you only knew
                 the things
                         i would do  
                                    for y
                                              o
                                                   *u
maybe you'd love me back
She was wearing a red blouse
with a black choker around her neck.
Her neck surrounded by invisible kisses
that were indelibly marked by
his thick full lips.
Burning with pain and longing,
She took a swig from the
Bordeaux on the table
and as she held the bottle to her lips
she remembered the feel of his lips.
She gulped down her sorrows,
hugged her new boyfriend
and danced the night away.

The kisses came back to her as
soon as she lay her head on the white
silky pillowcase.
I went to turn the grass once after one
Who mowed it in the dew before the sun.

The dew was gone that made his blade so keen
Before I came to view the levelled scene.

I looked for him behind an isle of trees;
I listened for his whetstone on the breeze.

But he had gone his way, the grass all mown,
And I must be, as he had been,—alone,

‘As all must be,’ I said within my heart,
‘Whether they work together or apart.’

But as I said it, swift there passed me by
On noiseless wing a bewildered butterfly,

Seeking with memories grown dim over night
Some resting flower of yesterday’s delight.

And once I marked his flight go round and round,
As where some flower lay withering on the ground.

And then he flew as far as eye could see,
And then on tremulous wing came back to me.

I thought of questions that have no reply,
And would have turned to toss the grass to dry;

But he turned first, and led my eye to look
At a tall tuft of flowers beside a brook,

A leaping tongue of bloom the scythe had spared
Beside a reedy brook the scythe had bared.

I left my place to know them by their name,
Finding them butterfly-**** when I came.

The mower in the dew had loved them thus,
By leaving them to flourish, not for us,

Nor yet to draw one thought of ours to him,
But from sheer morning gladness at the brim.

The butterfly and I had lit upon,
Nevertheless, a message from the dawn,

That made me hear the wakening birds around,
And hear his long scythe whispering to the ground,

And feel a spirit kindred to my own;
So that henceforth I worked no more alone;

But glad with him, I worked as with his aid,
And weary, sought at noon with him the shade;

And dreaming, as it were, held brotherly speech
With one whose thought I had not hoped to reach.

‘Men work together,’ I told him from the heart,
‘Whether they work together or apart.’
I have been one acquainted with the night.
I have walked out in rain—and back in rain.
I have outwalked the furthest city light.

I have looked down the saddest city lane.
I have passed by the watchman on his beat
And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.

I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet
When far away an interrupted cry
Came over houses from another street,

But not to call me back or say good-by;
And further still at an unearthly height
One luminary clock against the sky

Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.
I have been one acquainted with the night.
There sandy seems the golden sky
And golden seems the sandy plain.
No habitation meets the eye
Unless in the horizon rim,
Some halfway up the limestone wall,
That spot of black is not a stain
Or shadow, but a cavern hole,
Where someone used to climb and crawl
To rest from his besetting fears.
I see the callus on his soul
The disappearing last of him
And of his race starvation slim,
Oh years ago—ten thousand years.
Nature’s first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf’s a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf,
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day
Nothing gold can stay.
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