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 Jan 2018 S P Lowe
Star BG
My computer-like self
is frozen in thought like the outside chill.
Mouse moving in heartbeat fashion.
Light pulsating to
balance eyes that stare outward.

Time slows
while flashes of visions come
upon minds screen
melting into a field of technical descriptive words.

Software of passions and goals
must be updated to align with
lifeforce energies.

Dreams become distant
in hard drive of heart
while rain fills eyes
and keyboard
resonates with sounds.

Virus must be found
by breath and focus
grounding in a sea of gigabytes
housed in cells
taken over until balance can be achieved.

Platform is set with intention
for real self to meet fabricated one
as old fears are dismantled
and guided to a tunnel lined with trash.

With flip of
button all is eradicated
in just seconds
for a new thought to anchor
and peace to be part of a new program.

Second to reboot my consciousness
for guidance and spirits love to enter.

StarBG © 2017
Just a thought that floated into mind and I used as a diving board to swim in words. Just a thought to ride the waves of a frothed verse to photograph by assembling words. Just a thought.
 Jan 2018 S P Lowe
Clare Coffey
I am the girl in the corner
The one you simply don’t see
Years of perfected camouflage
So you will never notice me

I don’t make any ripples
Wouldn’t dare step out of line
Nobody can hear my voice
I hope that they will sometime

I live in a world of fear
I’m not sure why I’m afraid
I have found inside my head
The place where nightmares are made

A place buried deep within
Filled full of darkness and dread
Breaching the edge of reason
And icy cold like the dead

Visions writhing and ghostly
Fleeting outside of my grasp
Yet returning to haunt me
I breathe pain in a silent gasp

I want to be comfortably numb
All the way down to my core
Not to feel all this heartache
Not to know hurt anymore

Pills and ***** can’t save me
Why can’t you hear when I scream
Desperate depressed and lost
In a land of broken dreams
#s
 Jan 2018 S P Lowe
The Fire Burns
Pressured darkness,
movements surround me,
bioluminescence glows green,
back toward the surface.

Xenophyophores lie silent,
in the syrupy coldness,
a snailfish glides by,
ignoring me completely.

Sinking in the gray ooze,
every step is a challenge,
as I head downhill toward
the Challenger Deep.

Surprisingly it is not silent here,
baleen whale song tickles my ears,
as does the sound of propellers,
from many miles away.

Now, completely alone,
as I bottom out,
squeezed and frozen,
in the blackness.

Nothing here save some microbes,
invisible to my eye and ear,
I've had enough,
I begin my long ascent.
 Jan 2018 S P Lowe
The Fire Burns
Camouflaged Jack Frost infiltrated covers,
worming into the bed in a military crawl,
starting at my feet he slowly creeps in,
even slithering into my socks.

Slowly up my legs, he oozes,
eventually sapping all my heat,
I toss and turn and turn and toss,
but that just gives him more room.

I get up to free myself from his icy grip,
headed to the thermostat on the wall,
pressing the screen to increase the temperature,
the fan icon spins, but the real one doesn't turn.

Tripped breaker, Mother Nature wins,
I bundle up to go do battle outside,
the wind batters me as flurries fall,
I pry open the icy breaker box.

Icecicles fall, threatening my toes,
like ***** traps set for me,
a pile of snow falls off the house,
and down my collar, as winter fights.

But I win the battle this time,
I flip the tripped switch and the heat kicks on,
slipping and sliding back into the house,
the war continues outside.
 Jan 2018 S P Lowe
Casey
the Fly
 Jan 2018 S P Lowe
Casey
small and nameless, Kronos summons
one such Titan who's born to fate,
to numbered days until fully grown,
to lashes of satin and of stone.
sailing songs into the breeze
lost in skies of hum and tease
failing to see what it all meant
among all the hollow remnants,
of broken kings and pauper wings,
of vacancy and necromancy
our "once we were" and "as we will"
come soothingly upwards into a chill
and we can fight and disagree
until our suns resign and our spirits free,
The Fall creeping, meek and shy
Or when we're ready, after the Fly
I sit at the park,
Puffing toxic smoke ;
Inhaling the pain i weep alone.
My life, indeed is like a rolling stone.
As the sun shines,
I became blinded,
While I exhale..
Puff.
Puff.
Puff.
Where is my hope.
 Jan 2018 S P Lowe
Mitch Prax
You are a novel
gathering dust on my shelf
but not because I don’t want to read
but because I’m afraid
to turn the page,
afraid of how you’ll end

— The End —