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Raven Black Apr 2015
Sometimes we float on a surfice
Of a calm sea
Silent tenderness is lulling us
Back and forth on a watery bed
Pumping blood slowly
Other times we rage and scream
Loudly and messy
Lungs filled with passion
Hands itching for touch
It's a dark night again and lonely
Sleep avoids me
Just a slow hunger eats
Coldness and fear
Love and lust
Raven Black Apr 2015
My tears are gone
My fingers are cold
Morning crisp air
Makes my skin crawl
I hate you 
Your small fake smiles
Angry thin lips
Long, long list of lies

Just *******
No good mornings
Can change my mind
When evenings bring
Clouds to your eyes

You're walking around 
In your huge baloon
And I'm sending you small dart
In the color of *******

You'll understand
Better than others
What the hell ******* is
You're master of the art 
You wrote doctoral thesys
In the field of *******

Oh *******
From me all right
**** of
Same old me
Morning and night
  Apr 2015 Raven Black
Pablo Neruda
I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.

Write, for instance: "The night is full of stars,
and the stars, blue, shiver in the distance."

The night wind whirls in the sky and sings.

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

On nights like this, I held her in my arms.
I kissed her so many times under the infinite sky.

She loved me, sometimes I loved her.
How could I not have loved her large, still eyes?

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
To think I don't have her. To feel that I've lost her.

To hear the immense night, more immense without her.
And the poem falls to the soul as dew to grass.

What does it matter that my love couldn't keep her.
The night is full of stars and she is not with me.

That's all. Far away, someone sings. Far away.
My soul is lost without her.

As if to bring her near, my eyes search for her.
My heart searches for her and she is not with me.

The same night that whitens the same trees.
We, we who were, we are the same no longer.

I no longer love her, true, but how much I loved her.
My voice searched the wind to touch her ear.

Someone else's. She will be someone else's. As she once
belonged to my kisses.
Her voice, her light body. Her infinite eyes.

I no longer love her, true, but perhaps I love her.
Love is so short and oblivion so long.

Because on nights like this I held her in my arms,
my soul is lost without her.

Although this may be the last pain she causes me,
and this may be the last poem I write for her.
  Apr 2015 Raven Black
Pablo Neruda
I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine
Raven Black Nov 2014
Light touches
On my skin
Dancing game
Like candle flame
Kisses and whispers
Tangled hands
Love, love and dreams
Slow walk on paved path
Hoping odd stones
Avoiding cracks
In the narrow old street
A thousand year old wind
Tease a milion year old sea
Just as you tease me.
  Aug 2014 Raven Black
I am guilty of all you've been told
I admit to being cold,
Mean, inconsiderate and selfish
Not minding this beauty without blemish

Have I used you? yes, guilty
And I will do it again as need be
Forgive me for the wrong I have committed
Though a wrong carefully coined and crafted

I have used you in so many ways
May be those even wrong,
Dear poetry, you must endure the pain
Because whenever I get the chance, I will use you again.
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