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saige May 2018
velcro wallet
was navy, i think
gray plastic zipper
grandma gave you
i had a locket
it had your picture inside
but you threw it away
because you looked like a rabbit
hair fluffed, eyes puffy
two teeth and two hours
of squirming on a photo booth

plastic coin pouch
small crayola blue
walmart sticker on a side
but it never made me smile
not like that piggy bank did
yard sale treasure
no smashing to withdrawl
our tooth fairy dollars and dust
still, you crammed stink bugs
down the long neck's back

now, a denim bag on my bed
rhinestoned one in the closet
and your wallet is
real leather, i think
has superheroes on it
rough and grungy
as the comic books in the attic
or, did you toss those too?

who needs a screwdriver
without a *****?
that's all money was
just hardware we didn't have
much use for
but there is more than one way
to use a tool
so here, i'll paint it straighter
who needs a coffin without a corpse?
especially when we were
so full of life back then
Syv Elena Nov 2018
Are flowers
Are stone
Are tears
Are ash
One day I'll write a poem celebrating his life. Today is not that day. I'm sorry.
Em MacKenzie Sep 2018
She grabbed my neck, one hand, and her fingers quickly connected,
“You should have some more self respect, you’re taking this further than I expected.”
I swear that I’m eating again,
but I won’t try to pretend,
that the food doesn’t make me hurt, the removal of my organs didn’t mend.
I ask her to forget it and to just talk about the weather,
the topic wants to drop; she won’t let it, she knows I’m not getting any better.
I was always too much of a lost cause to trust I’d ever be repaired,
for years she’s held the gauze and just silently waited and stared.

At 21 my mother died from a long battle with cancer,
I toughed through it to provide comfort I could never allow myself to receive.
So my own sickness was inspired by Elton John’s “Tiny Dancer”
it was never my goal but what my
brain wished to achieve.

I told them all to leave me,
I didn’t expect they would do so,
a few stragglers stayed who wished to prove they were strong.
It’s still shocking that they believed me
or were they waiting for a polite out to go
one that they could argue wasn’t wrong?

And I’d rather break a mirror
than to see the reflection everyone else shared,
it’s not that I would fear her,
but through seven years bad luck I’ve already fared.
I made a choice and a deal
to give my worthless life for just a few good days,
you can’t put a price on how you feel,
you can only hope and pray that that feeling atleast stays.

I became best known through all encounters in every social gathering
as the laid back confident joker, because they never saw me shattering.
I assure you that after I was always in my Honda drowning,
arguing with myself if it was better to be fake than the person always frowning.
I was dying for interaction beyond just meaningless conversation
and only ever met the odd soul to bring that alleviation.
I was so used to the shadows from the comfort of my basement
that I flinched when I saw sunlight and only after felt amazement.

I was a skeptic and untrusting as to why the sun would ever shine on me,
and the refreshing waves that brushed my feet carried potential for drowning.
And just when I got used to light and a natural source of heat
the darkest cloud in history attacked until it did retreat.
Then I thought that drowning in the sea wouldn’t be the worst,
if it didn’t carry me into a current, perhaps it could wash away my curse.
But even the tide will move away when you decide to take that step,
past the point of clenching a fist, every muscle I own did treppe.

Los Camp said the sea was a great place to think about the future,
but I know it’s a great place to think about the one you lack.
Inspired by Los Campesinos! “The Sea is a great place to think about the future” and thinking about things I was too busy and too tired to confront.
Hirondelle Sep 2018
What are the hands of fate that separate many a great mate,
when even the word ‘great’ is not yet as great
to estimate that which no word could relate?             

This morn cast                  pulverized to a waste...
                        an ocean vast
Miles lay in dregs,
                           lost in crags,
                                           on two rebel hands...

Before a giant gesture so gentle in measure,
did continents cringe and crumble in a seizure
when two spirits of a kind defied leagues at their leisure.

What’s love compared to a soul sibling to whom you are bound,
when even the sentiment ‘love’ is not yet as round
to show you how profound the meaning you have found?

        two souls cast                 to a pulverized rest...
                            an ocean vast
     miles dwindled away to dregs,
                              washing down the crags
                                                     of two rebel hands
              locked in...

©️Hirondelle (08/09/2018)
I have always tried to veer off from the metaphysical, but I doubt how much I have been able to do that especially when it comes to feelings that give me the power to carry on. These innervations being the product of 'thoughts' could sometimes be conjectural and straddle both the physical and the metaphysical. One such example is the notion of spiritual kinship.

Plato's realism transcended the physical and sought the Forms aka Ideas, 'private mental objects'. Over time, this philosophy seeped into art, religion, and human relations most. 'Private' and 'mental'... What better recipe for conjecture: that no man's land between the physical and the metaphysical!

Don't we have a general inclination to look for an answer to some of the 'big' experiences in our lives from a divine, spiritual or some other metaphysical standpoint, which makes them 'private' or more easily understandable? You could, let's say, be an atheist, yet you would have no trouble calling someone who is dear to you your soul sibling just because you have these 'private different' conceptualization of that person. Isn’t this contradiction astride both physical and metaphysical planes?

Yet the feelings the conjectural reality gives us are real. If your blood is rushing, a doctor can read it on an electrocardiograph for example. It could also be that you imagine that you possess these feelings. How would you know? It's conjectural, however the cardiograph is still the same cardiograph.

This conjectural reality could be your religion, and it makes you happy if you are reconciled...
This conjectural reality could be your nationality, and it makes you proud if you are reconciled...
This conjectural reality could be your car, your dog or even your jacket you wear, and they give you different good feelings as a result of the 'private thoughts' they evoke in you...

Can you imagine the power of a person, who you believe could be a brother or sister in the spiritual sense? Yes, not a sibling by blood but by spirit, much superior. Much greater than all the positive feelings in the above stated list... We would have no disagreement about the dog, or the car or even the nation I guess... Yet, 'religion', you might say, is greater than a soul sibling when it comes to inspiring in you feelings... Well, I cannot measure things on a conjectural scale, and I truly don’t want to sally into that special sentiment in people’s lives. It’s not a debate of religion here. However, though people do believe religion is reciprocal, it is not physically interactive, and those who interacted are either saints or prophets.

A soul sibling looks at you in the eye, speaks with you and shows their reaction to what you experience together...

There are myths about soul siblings. One has it that two people who are soul siblings but don't know it yet will recognise each other when they meet or when they share an experience and their souls will lock. Well, a poem will prance then... Clouds clad with the radiant colours of the rainbow will scud from some magic fairyland to find you and soak you with the torrents of vibrant happiness.

The soul deems no obstacles. Remember Psyche [soul] in Greek mythology. She was forbidden to look at and see her husband, so she had to share with him many a blissful moments for days yet in a dark place she didn't even know, obliged to concede to the unseen existence of her beloved. However, succumbing to curiosity, she lit her oil lamp once to see her sleeping husband, who was Eros, the god of love. Burning oil dripped on his susceptible body and he flew away in agony. Consequently, she was punished severely by Aphrodite, Eros’s mother who was enraged by the harm that befell her son from Psyche’s hands. For years, however, Psyche sought him in backbreaking toils and tribulations. Then, she was subject to Aphrodite’s loborious tests. Yet she did not relent despite these exacting sufferings. Seeing her defiant devotion to Eros [love] in formidable trials and extreme afflictions, gods helped her eventually and she was made a deity in Olympus to live forever with her husband. Since then ‘soul’ and ‘love’ never parted.

The defiance, perseverance and power of the soul are the key elements in this poem. You can see how it pulverizes both continents and oceans between a brother and a sister. What is space or time in the eye of the soul when even Aphrodite could not stop its human form, Psyche?

The soul will chirp its song independently from the corporal phenomena, so will soul siblings. Children have soul siblings, the very old do as well; once they cross paths they are inseparable.

Call it conjectural, metaphysical, mythical or even childish; the cardiograph will tell you yet another story...
King Panda Apr 2016
I’m sorry
I was devouring you
with my eyes
your liturgical eighty-eight
your curves and robes
raising my alter
to this pinnacle of
something holy
to take slowly
into my body
love, I wished
sibling love
not to be mistaken
for religion
for surgical jazz
for something else
love, sister
and my promise—
I won’t go to the pyre
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