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Lora Lee Sep 2016
Night comes
r
     o l l i
               n g
                 down again
in painted coats
of thick onyx
clouding my vision
as if a brightly-striped
cuttlefish,
                sister of squid
has enveloped me
in its
dark liquid
           sea ink
an opaque vapor
for protection,
a shimmering
            sheild against
disillusionment
pain of potential
         loss
endless strands
of longing
knotting in my
hair like kelp
keeping me rooted
to the sea floor,
feet ensconced in
the soft squish
of muck and earth
Miraculously,
    I breathe,
as if a sea nympth,
a mermaid
holding on to
the silvery scales
of her reality
indigo-dipped
in deepest iridescence
blending with fronds
of vibrant greens
and I am floating
within a vast membrane
     of brine
somehow nuturing,
liquid cushion
of womb-water
letting it slake
the piquancy of thirst
that bursts my tongue
               into succulence
Spiked in sea stars
like thorny crowns,
I reach out to
discover new textures
puncture the dark
with my fingers
enfold those waters
      to me,
letting them
rock the soul
          of my soul
the heart
      of the seed
of my heart
   and allow my
sonar, as powerful
as a whale's
encompassing call
to surge up
through nautical miles
                      of ocean depths,
buoyed through layers
of waves
        up unto
the winds
that ride,
     ever-tenderly,
the surface
    of
       the
    dawn
wichitarick Jan 2017
Breaking out with nothing more than meager minds & meandering souls


Still not even a glimpse of that elusive blue sky for which other neighbors are willing to die


How bad the history to toss it in the wind & follow the passing wind for a new life taking on unknown roles


Leaving mongrels for fabulous futures overly protective she nurtures ,what will her resolve signify ?


Pressing passions peeking out ,climbing onto a new board will the beauty be worth the unpaid tolls?


Integral,meshed strength from mind,body & soul are the naysayers merely jealous of this because they have a short supply?


How can people have no country when they are standing on firm ground then who becomes the master to confirm or deny


Mass exodus from natures over abundance or her maximum denial ,in the distance are new goals


People proud of their past yet forgetting from where they came who are they to say I am just some guy?


Living with a new label "stranger in a strange land" now with life's biggest gamble

whether coming east,west,north or south all simply seeking new homes.R.C.
Could have tried harder,but simple thoughts after helping some folks ,literally arriving to the middle of the U.S. from parts unknown Africa with the shirt on their back,but with more strength than to many others I have met in recent times,imagine learning to wear a coat for the first time at 40 yrs. old? :) But it also still begs the question,are they gaining something or losing something as they become "Americanized" ? I appreciate any in put "Peace Takes Practice" Rick
planting a seed
and watching it blossom
into a beautiful rose-
takes time, nuturing,
and patience...
so does friendship
and possible love.
i can wait~

2007

COPYRIGHT; Sabrina Denise Healey,
~Angelmom~
Ravi Hemnani Jun 2013
In this miniature world,
There reside billions of souls,
Each one with a story to be told,
Good, bad, all kind of memories they behold.

Passing through the streets,
It was indeed a beautiful night,
There i saw her under the street lamp,
Wondered what were her story and her purpose at this point of time.

I came close, stood beside her,
With no hint of shyness she arrives,
Called for some money,
Pleasures like never before, she claimed.

Now i could see her hideous display,
Dressed to showcase her body,
She smiled at me, pulling me towards her,
That was the time, I met the queen of the nights.

Puffed a cloud of smoke on my face,
I saw her eyes had a shining blaze,
What i wanted with her was still unclear,
I was there for a purpose but now I cant seem to steer.

From top to bottom, she was different,
Nothing was matching and there was no fear,
I was sure to spend my time with her,
All I could say, "Are you game for the night my dear?"

We made a contract to stay together,
It was for hours and not forever,
Lead me through an alley to the magical door,
We entered a world to which I was unknown before.

There were rooms, rooms and some more i could see,
With the same signs at the door knobs as i could perceive,
"Whatever’s happening behind, we are having a good time"
I was following her to conceal myself from the outer world.

777, I read on the door,
We entered the room and everything was neatly kept,
A perfect decor,
She handed me a bottle of scotch promising me a roller coaster ride through all.

I wondered what number was I for her,
She seemed experienced with the looks, i thought,
She sat besides me till i gulped down the whiskey shot,
And there was the question, "What do you want to do? How do you want to start?"

Blabbering in my head, I was speechless at first,
I wanted to know her rather than starting over,
A fool, a *****, a waste **** has to come to brothel, they might think,
That was me i guess but people said I stink.

Her previous clients had specific demands she said,
Some wanted her to pretend dead till they are done with her,
Some acted as heinous souls and wanted to abuse her,
They all had their needs and she satisfied them for real.

She screamed as per their wish i learnt,
She was willing ***** as it was the part of her curriculum,
Each night, strange men,
All this she did, just to pay the rent.

I told her it was her wish tonight,
She came close and whispered, "You wouldn’t be disappointed Mister!!",
My clothes were off leaving me to be naked for real,
All the jobs were done with great deal of satisfaction.

Her body was a wonderland and I was lost,
Perfect bosoms, perfect shape, everything was perfect i thought,
The clock was ticking and the end was near,
Suddenly inside me was a tangible fear.

Time was up, it was the moment to leave,
She lay there naked, it wasnt a dream,
She asked for a price, I paid, I left,
There were all kind of voices I heard on my way back.

The ****** was high, so were the noises,
Some cried and some happily dealt with it,
So many souls were pushed into becoming the toys for others,
Was there any identity they carried, will they ever be respected?

What some people did it for pleasure, they did it for money,
At the tender age of nuturing, they were loosing,
Why such a disturbing thought after such a great night,
"Will i ever be respected?" were the words inscribed on the wall besides.

I left the door opened as i walked outside,
Under every lamp, the pavement was flooded with them,
They lived there, ate and fought for survival with their might,
They were queen of the nights.

Walking down the lane,
The thought was bubbling like about to burst,
Will i ever come back to satisfy my thirst,
To the place where people come to unleash their monsters.
The Anti-Monk

Resurrect a tribal passion, when the needle threads the skin after each wince the pain screams that this canvas is art happening. An art so ancient, an art so ancient; nuturing itself like a child alongside ourselves developing traditions that encompass every mountain on ourselves to only just a small patch of grassland on ourselves. The true tattooist's masochism has no bounds, well except maybe brands, a decision about your portrait of self only your choice will imagine. Paint my self reflection upon myself, the aethetics will please me.

Suppress a primal ugre, where the mind threads between the skin after calm the tranquility whispers that this temple is peaceful, still. A practice so ancient, a practice so ancient, festering itself like a ***** alongside ourselves deccelerating rituals that encompass every valley on ourselves to only just  a summit of our plateau on ourselves. The true monk's bounds has no art, well except maybe botany, a decision about your portrait of self only your choice will imagine. Meditate my self reflection upon myself, the anaesthetic will soothe me.


An Anthesis and a Monk
Jessica Who  Mar 2013
Untitled
Jessica Who Mar 2013
Swaddled babies never felt such care as this, being wrapped in the blanket of your love. Nuturing kindness, whisper soft kisses on angel soft skin. Dancing souls, matching steps and even breaths in this moment they share. Anticipating needs with a watchful eye and a caring heart. One made of something more precious than gold. More beautiful than the rarest of stones. Yet forged in a similar manner. Wrapped in the pressure and heat of our mutual adoration. An ever growing presence in itself. Transforming all that we know and understand about ourselves and each other. Sharing thoughts like a glass of fine wine...leaving floral tones on the tips of our tongues. Curious as to how each others individual tastes might influence that tone, we share a kiss and find ourselves amongst the stars.
betterdays Apr 2014
The verdency has long been bleached from the grass.
It is now hollow straw and chaff.
It soughs and rattles it's
sorrow in whispering distress.

The livestock, ***** smudges
of skin and bone.
Stand listless, under the stick
bare branches, of the ghost gum .
Waiting for the rumble
of the feed truck to come.

The dust swirls, red fine
and irritating to skin and eyes.
The only creature to thrive
are the buzzing horde of
flies.

The bore pump clanks to life
and the water allotment
flows.
The sheep arise and drink
the trough, bone dry.
Before resettling into hungry
repose,
under the white ghost gum west of Gundagia.

This is drought, this is the
wait for rain, this is the daily
struggle, the farmers lonesome refrain.

All but the sturdiest stock
sold, shot or long gone dust,
to the unforgiving heat. Nuturing the best,
saved from starvations
questing hold.
To rebuild the farm
and complete Job's test.

After the rains have come,
all will be good again.
And if they don't come.
Doesn't matter, soon we'll
all be dead.
written after a conversation
with farming friends.
DawynSHunter Jul 2015
Today
The tears have managed to slip out
Bringing about the red eyes,
choked out cries
of what life is really like
Inside these four walls

At every corner
i cave
Knowing if i stand up
i will get slammed down
down to where i curl up
dead, still wishing for a better life
inside these four walls

I live in fear for tomorrow
Afraid i might finally have the courage
to press down deep enough
to expose the anger that runs through my veins
everyday
inside these four walls

Mother and father is what they call themselves
nuturing us with love and care
protecting us from the evil that is out there
but is there a difference from the evil out there
and the evil that is stained
on these four walls

Forced to play by their rules
We follow them blindly
even with the ocassional abuse
"you're not white" excuse
marks of bruises
that show our traditional ways of life
inside these four walls.

Crying is not allowed
no sugarcoating when we're down
we live only for your purpose
of control and possession
choices made under your disgretion
indide these four walls
it's all i've ever known
there's no place like home.
Infamous one  Jan 2013
cleanse
Infamous one Jan 2013
the rain comes and goes cleaning up so the sun could shine
wake up in the morning saying the day is mine
appreciate the good not soak in the bad
dont be sad the good will over power the bad
ask for forgive one day youll be glad
might not have it all be glad for what you have
you want to create and much as youd like to live
you give and drive to be better each and everyday
regardless of what they say nature in the nuturing heart
you pray nothing goes wrong
mind your mouth they make you seem like you are acting smart
RenzoAndy  May 2017
Years of love
RenzoAndy May 2017
Morning....
Word that i always wait to hears
Just like sunrise shows in years
Never too late never to slow
Hope of fate that me to know

These are what i knows and what i vows
Those are what i seeks and what i meeks
Are these what i hears and what i fears?
Are those what i says and what i pays?

Last night....
Bed wasn't that warmed anymore
Blanket wasn't nice as ever before
Stories of us making those taugh floors
Stumbling paths matching the true chores

Us right now...
Passing many years gone by with scars
Maturing our seeds to grow like thee stars
Here we are curing with quarrels
Nuturing the love in wine barrels

Let's see....
No body can see the journey up ahead of us
No one can expect the comfy bed for us
What you grove is what you'll grown
For us there's no groove for a clown


Years of love
Khoisan Jan 2021
In the quest for the existential
need of nuturing oneself

we dangle in the jungle
by burning candles

it is a super humane thing
drawing ink from another

Secret leaks from
a writer's pen

for we were blind

even keeping
the true devil in mind

sacred to ourselves
as we trip by default
over our own thin lines.
It is good to acknowledge
in reference
A poet who inspired.
jeffrey conyers Mar 2013
Somethings of creation just needs a little nuturing.
And when it's good.
It just needs a little worshipping.
To comprehend the many sweet blessings.

With us, it's been layed out.
You're the seed.
I'm the plant.
We have accomplish growth forever more.
We'll be the tree of love.
Now and forever.

You'll be knowledge.
While I try to be wisdom.
But together, we could be both.
We are blessed.
Blessed to be the tree of love.

Without water nothing could grow.
It would be a product called experimental.
We all know God doesn't create falsehood.
It's the people.

You'll be the heart.
I'll be the beating within.
As we create a loveship that will never end.
The same way our friendahip's first beginned.

If anyone should become jealous.
There's really no need.
For, what we share?
They can also share too.
If they work at becoming, the tree of love.

If it's true.
It can only grow.
If it's real.
Nothing can destroy the love they share.
Just like a blossom flower.
It just needs a little caring.

God shine your sun upon us.
And let the growth of inspiration take over.

— The End —