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How is it that you're so far, but
Yet so close? I want to be seen
As the girl who catches flies, not
The girl who runs for the moon.

How is it that you haven't noticed
My soul? Even though I've been dancing and singing ahead you,
Dressing silly like most girls, with heavy make-up on?

How is it that you never put a glance
On my face? As if I were a fly passing
Through, or something you disgust

I want to be seen as the girl
In the magazines, or the girl
Who's got thousand dollar shoes, or the girl everyone loves.

But I'm just a debris to you.
for Harlon Rivers

the river potion,
the river portent,
the river potent

it is all of these and not one

he is bank sided,
observing the false idols,
the image mirrored
in the glass of the river

transfigured molecularly
he becomes something ferried frothily, forcefully

as if a twig
or a small thing of human manufacture,
an object tossed up airborne-repeatedly

his poetry:
the clash of particles at the many junctions
of objects and water, eddies and the currents,
ceaselessly circumnavigating,  
searching revisionary pathways

but randomized,
prisoner of the flows,
servant to the wind's directives and the
earths magnetic indivisible undulating waves

this life,
its unsteady gait, 
the irreverent wavering of drunkenness
resultant from potent potions,
portents of inopportune position

in him,
my own histories, 
my poetic recordings
also become
water borne,
replayed back for me,
for erasure, censure, closure
and rededication

this River
is a tapestry,
a torn map,
drawn on broken shards
of slivered water,
living with all the others

but we,
are the untitled,
are the un-entitled,
and he is the

Oct. 20, 2016

harlon is one of the best poets here
if you are new to his writing, be sure to tell him honestly what you think...

his work can be found under  
Uncover him, and discover yourself within


Harlon Rivers:
my personal call sign, Poseidon
Poseidon was very fitting with Harlon River,
due to the symbolic nature of the water in their names.
I have only read few of this gentleman's work,
But I can assure you his work is very much a gift to the audience,
And like Poseidon that gift is fire to humanity.
Dawn of  Lighten
and of course<*****/
Now the only way the moon will ever light our shadow again, is when it remembers that night almost two years ago when i first kissed you.
We can't be together
But I love him

And the worst part is
He loves me too
Dear friend, far off, my lost desire,
  So far, so near in woe and weal;
  O loved the most, when most I feel
There is a lower and a higher;

Known and unknown; human, divine;
  Sweet human hand and lips and eye;
  Dear heavenly friend that canst not die,
Mine, mine, for ever, ever mine;

Strange friend, past, present, and to be;
  Loved deeplier, darklier understood;
  Behold, I dream a dream of good,
And mingle all the world with thee.
Thy voice is on the rolling air;
  I hear thee where the waters run;
  Thou standest in the rising sun,
And in the setting thou art fair.

What art thou then? I cannot guess;
  But tho' I seem in star and flower
  To feel thee some diffusive power,
I do not therefore love thee less:

My love involves the love before;
  My love is vaster passion now;
  Tho' mix'd with God and Nature thou,
I seem to love thee more and more.

Far off thou art, but ever nigh;
  I have thee still, and I rejoice;
  I prosper, circled with thy voice;
I shall not lose thee tho' I die.
I shall have this dance and
give it a whirl,
you are the girl for me,
but on a Saturday night at
five o clock
I go home to my mam for tea.

I make you laugh you
make me smile,
your voice is a melody,
but on a Saturday night at
five o clock
I go home to my mam for tea.
 Nov 2015 Stephanie Cynthia
 Nov 2015 Stephanie Cynthia
I spit the moon, a fingernail,
in the black eye of night.

Stardust was born
from the dirt of a lifetime.

I had the universe at my fingertips,
and blew it away like a kiss.

The world is a better place for my loss.
We fail
only to make
taste that much
Sometimes I feel like I'm here, but not really.
My breath moves like last words,
slow, full of missing you dearly

I smile and wave at people, my life seems dynamic.
But inside my mind,
sh sh sh
Just white noise, static

I often look in the mirror and think is this me?
These Halloween eyes with cracked skin underneath?

I feel alone but not lost, I know where I am.
But if one is lost in his mind, what is life but a scam.
I Need help today, right now, real handy!

Because I feel like a Jack who's in need of his Sally,
Like jack my emptiness began to grow,
way before these hallowed eyes,
this skin, breached with holes.

It's been growing like fungus putting it's static in my ears
It's been hiding like a rat, only coming out in my tears.

I often wondered what this feeling is, and I now know.
the fog of my life is lifting and this feeling now shows

It's there and so clear, but it hurts still the same,
it's been buried for so long deep down under my veins,

It burns my veins cold and makes icicles of my bones
And there it is, the feeling:

"A longing that I've never known"
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