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 Apr 2015 Sibyl
Deon
In this far strange land
Is a place i call home
Someday we'll return
To our loved ones at home
And won't have to fight to be
Brothers in arms

Brothers i ate with
Fought with
Bled with
With my last breath
I'll stand by you
My brothers in arms

Let us fight till the end
Just as we did before
As we march on to victory
With blood on our hands
Side by side
With our brothers in arms
 Apr 2015 Sibyl
Unknown101
i like those pretty lines
on your face

those little creases
with each frown
with every squint
your puckered lips
and eyebrow-raises

those permanent folds
that etch your happiness
across the canvas
that is your face

those delicate grooves
that tell me you've been
happy a few
and sad once too many

i like those pretty lines
and that they're here to stay

and my dear,
i hope that i'll add
to those around your mouth
some day
n.b. some day
 Apr 2015 Sibyl
Joanna Oz
seconds
     ticking
          tick-tick
    flip-flop
         ti-
             tick-
                  ticking.
poking     at      me,
c o a x i n g me
        to move:
stand up, get out, be, hear, see, do,
everything's right in front of you!

those two
        idle hands
                
should be crafting a cat's cradle of cathartic creation…

but easy comfort
         in apathetic

                                                               ­ nothing,
in slowly
         being e n v e l o p e d
cuddled back into, back into, back into my bed of
                                                                ­                                        blank…
slate, blank mind, blank hands.
blankets covering a blank stare at a blank ceiling.
smothering the murmurs
of the matador
in
     my
          chest,
I  s  l  i  d  e  into a hazy half-dream.
the light slips past,
going home with the sun
and listening to
lunar lullabies,
I
         sigh & hum
              slinking
                            into yawns
excusing myself for d r a g g i n g
        tiredness
                     pulling on   my   strings.

sinking,
       sinking
                   into sulking.
staying
        to sit
                 in sadness,
                                            sinking.
tic­king
       ticking
                   t i c k i n g
TOCK

the blocking of
      my eyes,
             ears,
                 hands,
                      feet,
                          heart
stymied by my own will.
and it will
continue
      for
             e t e r n i t i e s
of absolutely
                   arbitrary
                               nothing.

expect for cookies.
I will pledge my honor to soak up all sweetness so that my bones might
      rot
          faster,
             sinking,
                 weighting,
                       wearing,
                          tearing,
                                        s
                                           i
                                              n
                                                 k
                                                    i
          ­                                            n
                                                         g
                                                              .­

spiraling out faster,
                                              sinking
into another
                                               sinkhole
black void of destruction
                                              *******
the color
the dimension
of
me
into the next bed
                                             dungeon
for sleep,
dreaming of
                                             sinking:
plummeting past plumes of poisoned plum trees
plop perched atop an immobile glass-sealed sea
yet,

I
        sink
                     in –
                                            apathy.
Wrote this a while ago and formatted it for a project.
 Apr 2015 Sibyl
Joanna Oz
charity
 Apr 2015 Sibyl
Joanna Oz
if I am to love you,
I will love without expectation
of return
or reciprocation-
neither acknowledgement
nor honey sweet affection.
I will love despite
brutal response
or dismal absence,
regardless of wounds and abscess,
and with no regret.
I will love every part
radiant and rotten alike,
leaving no portion of you out in the cold of night.

if I am to love you,
I will love with conscious intent,
not based in fleeting emotion,
but grounded
in purposeful action
and ever-evolving
spiritual awareness
of the pure metaphysical essence
of you-
and I-
as One.
I will remember that love is a garden,
and not an avalanche.
I will love in understanding
and trust that
there is nothing that separates us,
transcendent soul
immanent in each bone.

if I am to love you,
I will love in tranquil tracing,
in tender waves -
ascending and
receding.
candid caressing
peacefully pulsing pace of peeling
back layers
of my self-skin
to return to
the egoless origin.

if I am to love you,
I will love in humble gestures,
sacrificing all before me
not for moral glory,
but to recognize
shared sacredness.
surrendering desire and attachment,
equalizing all extensions
of the
you-me matrix.
I will love stepping over
self-interest
and dancing into harmony in singularity,
entire generosity
sharing all the puzzle pieces of me.

and,
if I am to love you,
I will love wild
true
and free.
letting the universe
continuously
wash my eyes in new clarity.
opening further
each golden morning
to share the light it has gifted me.
I wrote this after reading an amazing passage on charity, or pure spiritual love, from The Perennial Philosophy by Aldous Huxley. I am finding that I have so much to learn about interpersonal love through the concept of divine love: what it is, how to live in it, share it, embody it, and accept it.
 Apr 2015 Sibyl
Joanna Oz
closure
 Apr 2015 Sibyl
Joanna Oz
if words could capture
the feeling
of being
with you again,
i would write them all.
scribbled up the sides
of ancient oak trees
secrets engraved onto leaves,
comfort stretching tall
into the night sky.
the cold strips clarity
into clouded eyes -
you are not mine
to hold,
but you are mine to have,
and the love shared
need not be
spoken,
how you have
and have not cared
displayed in token gestures.
i sit in peace
with both
knowing,
you
are exactly who you have always been
and will remain,
and i
am equal parts
your opposite
and reflected same.
 Apr 2015 Sibyl
Joanna Oz
I want to ***** a monument for extensionality,
and hand out pamphlets about revolutionary love
on the corner of the street.
I want to prescribe laughter and meditation
as cure-all medicine,
whisper thank-yous to the sun
and dance with the trees waving at me.
I want to hug sunflower giants,
remind the river of the power in her peaceful energy,
and tell her I like the way she's molded the clay bed beneath my feet.
I want to dissolve through dew-soaked grass
into the endless layers of earth below me.
I want to be broken apart, fossilized,
and pressed into crystalline form by the heat & heaviness of the universe.
I want to evaporate and rain onto a rolling hill,
form a stream of consciousness that feeds a babbling brook,
and giggle at tadpoles just finding their feet.
I want to caress cliff-sides
and press my toes up to greet mountain peaks.
I want to wiggle my soul alongside the jellyfish in the open sea
floating though golden sunbeams,
ascending current of galactic daydreams
bubbling up to the break surface,
gasping salty air into hungry lungs flushed with new purpose.
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