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M Salinger Apr 2021
My young body is impatient.

Restless
a bird held in a gilded cage
that would be at peace
if that cage was not
there to rattle against
like ribs
creating a fortress
to
a soft heart,
yearning to be free

she mistakenly
thinks freedom
is granted

hungry for experience
so that her bones may know her truth.

My old soul is ever-patient with her.

Understanding
the energy and vitality of youth
and its contagion

my old soul waits

needing no one else's company but
her own,
she will wait lifetimes if she must

because, for her, there is only one
other
to wait
for.

She sits behind me
and my pain,
under a beautiful arc of roses
dripping
the colour of blood

watching over,
and watching those
that have failed her test
with
compassionate
knowing eyes.

For she doesn't know
what
he looks like in this life,
but she'll know
when she sees him

she will feel it when they meet

and an entire lifetime
will
be
captured in
the
strength
of their gaze.

They will bring us to bed,
me, my tired body, and my pain

he will kiss our foreheads
and she will lie down lavender
and we will we drift off into a sweet sleep,
curled into each other

while our
breath is heavy and snores
escape
our chests

and that night, in our dreams
we will meet
his pain

and together,
fingers interlaced
the sun setting on the edge of the horizon
the last lights of day playing on the ocean crests,
we will walk into the water

and be
washed
clean.

We will lose time,
and at times
each other's hands,
and the waves of the ocean will take us in
like deep sighs

for one full night,
under the full moon
we will float,
and as we pay our respects to all those before us,
we will be bathed and renewed.

As day breaks, the tides gently bring us back to shore
and we will bend our heads to the ground
and thank the sea for what it has taken
and given
in return.

-

We will have wildflowers in our hair and around our necks,
and you will tell me that you see our eternity in my eyes,
and
I will look into yours and see the happy laughter of our children
running and free

we will give our pain back to the earth
and will give ourselves
to each other

two souls
in this lifetime
in every lifetime
in sacred union.
Jack Torrance Nov 2019
Come take my hand,
and we’ll fly away.
To better times,
of yesterday.

We’ll search for places,
that are thin between.
We’ll find the tears,
and slip in unseen.

In between to nothing,
that exists there.
Where we can be alone,
without these cares.

Or we can travel through,
to the next world beyond.
Find the next in between,
and truly be gone.

We can find a place,
where we don’t exist.
Or we can choose to fall,
into the abyss.

Just be brave now,
and take my hand,
and let’s fly away,
to Neverland.
KHAYRI RR WOULFE Aug 2017
Putik
na nabuo
mula sa luha
at alikabok.



Bulaklak
ng damo
na tumubo
sa puntod.



Isang  munting
uod.



Isang butil
ng
pulang buhangin.



Bato
sa kabundukan
na tinutunaw
ng hangin.



Pulubi
sa daan
na namamalimos
sa mga
matang piniringan.




Asin
sa basong
walang takip.



Panyo
sa upuan
na pinakupas
ng tubig-ulan.




Munting ilaw
na sumisilip
sa silid-piitan.




Isang sulat
ng pamamaalam
na nakaipit
sa pintuan.



Pahina
ng kalendaryo
na nakaligtaang
pihitin.



Kandila
sa dilim
na nakikipaglaro
sa mga
anino.


Kabibe
sa tabing-dagat
na walang
laman.




Mga tunog
na walang
huni
at nagsisilbing
musika
para sa
mga bingi.



Hibla
ng buhok
sa ibabaw
ng gitara.



Antipara
na nakapatong
sa lamesa.




Pakpak
ng tutubi
na tinupok
ng gasera.



Isang tuyong
dahon
na sumabit
sa bintana.


Langaw
na nabitag
sa sapot
ng gagamba.



Kutsara
sa tabi
ng basag
na pinggan.



Mga basang
uling
sa hulmahan.



Katahimikan.



Usok
na humahalik
sa kalawakan.
Written
27 December 2014


Copyright
© Khayri R.R. Woulfe. All rights reserved.
Harley Hucof Apr 2017
To the sound of your strings i fade and disintegrate
To the touch of your keys i disolve and evaporate

I merge into the wild tone of my incarnation
Liberating myself from the lost echo of my incarceration

Your dark notes nurture my sole existence
Because
Light corrupt the night in the realm of my subsistence


Words Of Harfouchism
Edward Coles Dec 2016
We were together
Staring out at the black sea;
A void in some backwater alley
Of central Bangkok.

You were laughing at its beauty
And like the stars I stared blankly,
Looking for everything I could not see.

Alternating undercurrent
Of raw sewage and street-food spice,
Alive in the shadow
Of a searing neon skyline,
The moon made of bone;
We blacken our lungs
Six thousand miles from home.

Set in greed for *** and company,
The familiar lilt of Latin tongues.
In a dream I still need to breathe,
Still need to feel the heat of love
Or at least the touch of anyone.

I lean, habit-ridden
Over the railings of misspelled lovers
That carved their names half-drunk
With hotel keys
Into the dandelion paint,
That with gradual loss,
Succumbs to the traffic
And falls in the breeze.

You wept at the sentiment.
I baulked in their loss.
I drew you in closer
To keep hold of this dream,
Before the night fades,
Before time has forgot,

Before life pulls us apart,
Before love loosens its knot.
C
Rob Sandman Nov 2016
Only when I dream am I safe,I ****** hate the place I'm at,
I ****** hate the pace I'm at forced to slow down to a crawl,
******* all I hate the four walls I'm constantly starin' at,
trapped in an evil habitat,as twitchy as an alley cat,
I'm feelin close to snappin necks,
leavin wrecks of bodies in the walls like my name is west,
my best years are flying past
while I'm constantly harassed by "so called" loved ones,
you're lucky I don't own a gun
-cause seriously don't push me cause I'm at my boiling point another joint?
maybe it'll help me chill,I'm so stressed its makin' me ill

and my friends can't help me,they've got their own probs man
plus I don't like to admit how suicidal Mr Sandman the tough guy is really feeling,
Astral project and punch the ******* ceiling
out of this glass house that's constantly throwin' rocks,
your self obsessed attitudes is seriously a load of ****,
so I try and get my sleep on,
no more time with the leash on,cause the Sandman controls you there,
remember all the nightmares? you've been having recently...
its ME messing with your nocturnal life is payback for my days of strife,
and I can keep it up for years,investing in your deepest fears,
lets see how YOU like holding back the tears,damming up like a blocked weir,you won't be spreading fake cheer,
with the Sandman in full control,
your life your dreams,body and soul,
like Alice falling down the hole,
my goodness!,oh my gracious me,
you really shouldn't stress me,
I'll fill your mind with TNT,
mix it with some ***,
you'll blow your mind like LSD,
and maybe then remember me!(to be continued)
The unvarnished unglamorous side of life at the moment,coupled with Lucid Dreaming and Astral Projection...a dangerous combination!
Francie Lynch Mar 2015
The year following
Jimmy's death
(my first encounter,
and my little brother),
I smothered myself
In every read on
Parapsychology,
Astral beings,
OBE's, NDE's,
And plasma projections,
Reincarnation and all
Aberations.
I awarded myself
An Honorary Doctorate
In ******* (Ph. D.B.S.).
Then I met ****** Mary,
As the police called her.
Her keen abilities
Recovered bodies
And the snatchers.
She had a dead-on reputation.
She spoke German and gesticulated
Wildly while she oracled.
Her husband translated simultaneously.
Her sun-room shone,
There were plants on
Every table. No candles.
Perhaps I was mesmerized.
She had one message for me
From the other side:
     Tell Francie to leave me alone.

Marlene
(my darling little sister,
And my next encounter),
Had a dream the very same
Day I saw my seer.
She dreamt Jimmy
Was alone,
Crying at home,
And through his tears
She clearly hears:
     Tell Francie to leave me alone.

****** Mary was free,
That's right... no fee.
She said her gift
Was for sharing,
And she shared
Her gift with me.
True story. I have left him alone all these many years. "There are more things on heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy, Horatio." (Hamlet)
JennyFrenzy Oct 2014
I walk through walls when I travel
To a midnight blood orange sky
Iridescent raindrops in soft motion
All discerned with my third eye

The astral world is tranquil
But not everything is as it seems
Creatures just heads are hiding
Inside articulated trees

Madly twirl to change the scenery
Watch as fish swim in venetian glass
Jump as high as painted mountain tops
Then rest on undulating grass

Weightless flights to brilliant Luna
Imagination guides the course
The realm of out of body
A thread embroidered to our source

— The End —