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Robby Nov 2019
Sometimes I forget how much words hurt
The sting as they hit your ears
And the jagged incision they make to your brain
Then on to your heart

Even more often I forget that silence hurts worse
Your pleas and needs falling on deaf ears
The response of a muted tongue
It’s so hard to find my balance
Still Crazy Aug 2014
no mean feat to reestablish,
palpitating those few seconds
when arms-in-motion wave frantic,
in desperation,
in fall-prevention mode,
comical and tragical,
a salty suite,
and the semi-familiar
taste of fall/failing
the freshest fear,
jalapeño hot on the tongue

some months ago,
the thinnest tightrope,
not an obstacle feared,
what I lacked for,
I could not say or now recall

the kindness of calm prevailed
now tension lines drawn,
under the feet,
around the neck,
high voltage wires that
no artist-survivor-breadwinner
can walk without trepidation
though you don't see my arms flailing,
there are faint marks on my soles,
parallelograms on my throat,
where fear has tested
the prowess of its equipment

my life retrospected,
have miracles
made and gained,
given and taken

nine lives used up so many times,
thought my allotment was
nine X nine to the power of nine,
stupid-stopped looking over my shoulder

the poems came so easy,
every phrase overheard was a
story explicated, and the insights slid
from throat to paper so fast
I did not count myself blessed,
just merely fortunate

well fortunes veer,
turn left bad right,
no direction home,
and what was easy,
now impossible

how the story final beds,
will keep you posted,
right now all I can predict
with 100% surety,
the fall is surely coming
for the summer-man

the sun cannot burn off
the fog that paralyzes his
ship to shore,
invisible the safety of port,
the horn sound more of a croak,
his voice, ashamed of failing,
has this man both
landlocked
and lost at sea
this poem was once centered
too
Mark Toney Oct 2019
constructive or destructive - criticism’s delicate balance
12/10/2018 - Poetry form: Monoku - Copyright © Mark Toney | Year Posted 2018
Tyler Matthew Oct 2019
Peering intensively through fog-marked mullioned glass
into a cool and conquering October sunrise
I am met with a profound and welcoming sudden awareness -
zephyrs breathing through each emerald green grass blade,
     brow of country hilltops, mountains materializing
with the passing of each era like wrinkles in a face,
clouds crawling the longitudes to reform over Pacific pools somewhere,
soil forcing upward making way for elm or oak or pine to tower,
rivers thundering wild down the backs of continents,
     cliff or crag breaking the maelstrom on occasion,
and all the while spinning, all of this and more, clinging to the frame of the earth
as it dances balanced on axis, pirouetting through the cosmos
in turbulent, beautiful, simply complex form just as I
back away from the window and extend an arm to brace myself.
Nadia May 2019
In that moment she transforms
Unquenchable pressures rise
Rage flares into firestorms
Fury thrives, amplifies

She dances on recent slights
Flinging words of blistering flame
Fires fuelled from yesterday’s fights
She wields with unerring aim

When the fury burns to embers
When logic eventually returns
No one left remembers
The cause of her righteous burns

NCL May 2018
Simon Oct 2019
Souls don’t have friction, if there without clear instructions to what’s being used for? Meant to combine the velocity of aspects surrounding the pure energy from growing without endangering itself. Souls becoming too powerful without layers. Layers interpreting logical statements of what good values is growing over itself for protection. Layers protecting itself. Protecting itself from the one that needs sheltering. Forcing more layers to follow in direction. Direction forcing more layers to protect itself more over, then pure energy endangering itself too much! Prompting the ideal for conquest in the face of chaos. Chaos sharing varieties without clarity. Clarity taunting the individual switching off any claims to servitude. Who’s this individual? Umm…clarity itself? (Sighs EVERYWHERE!!!) Energy isn’t withholding itself anymore. It’s destabilizing altogether! Pressure doesn’t come with layers. Endangerment is consequence. The ideal claim without surfaces. Surfaces needing layers without logical statements evolving proudly. Evolving flaws meaning to pace itself out. Clean up the act so chaos can protrude reasoning. Basic fundamental truth of life itself. So, which is it…? Souls without layers! Or dynamic layers ******* energy material too fearful to crack without confrontation? Exceeding the limitations of presence alone. Were all doomed! However, why isn’t there a claim to any of this? Friction has another backbone in its surface. It’s cleverly silent.
Time and place for all things to rub surfaces together. Layers aren't that great when challenged by something that doesn't make sense to itself. Clear varieties when looking deep within.
Simon Oct 2019
Frequencies are tough. Frequencies are managed. Two frequencies combine surfaces not existing in one another. Unless strips of different wavelengths are pushing each frequency to each others enlightenment. Nothing judges. Except one binding these apparitions together. A form becoming static too mutual for any compromise. Frequencies become laced with purposes. Easily definable. Never perfect enough for change. Only enough for simple practices. Practices reminding two frequencies of compromise. Compromises aren’t welcome, if one’s purpose is easily definable. If so, then why ask? It’s already staring you right in the face. Proceed with balance! Strips of wavelengths letting frequencies off chains made of static. Finally! One rippling a new focus. Releasing their time and service to entities holding them back. Purpose lays waiting, for all to see. Two frequencies happily definable now. Without change, static doesn’t occupy their purpose. Sparking a judgeable wavelength. Letting you off with a warning. A warning filled with benefits to a newer frequency. One that doesn’t hold frequencies by chains of static. Chains stripping connections between outer wholes. Sparks flying around its properties. Molding your own frequency together. Molding static between ripples of its own actions. Actions feeling the ripples of energy contracting with concern. Movements seeping into another part of itself that wasn’t identifiable. Becoming what wasn’t apart of its own identity. Surging pressure of rippling actions not belonging to itself. Stinging the outer symmetry of ripples. Frequency becoming thoughtless. Submerging into a shocked exterior. Feeling stressed without foreboding it’s purpose. Rippling the caregiver away from its own appreciation. Apparitions flowing misinterpretations. Faltered to a halt! Filling volumes of enlightenment too closed off when trying to supply purpose. Energy is a purpose. Rippling all around each spark to pledge. Pledge what? Pledging a way out! How will it turn out for these rippling fabrics of stationary purposes? Only two halves to a greater wavelength tapping into its own energy supplier.
Frequencies are judgeable when fluent practices run a muck! Only to ones staying broad within perimeters of itself. Only then will things shake moments into the clearing.
Tyler Matthew Oct 2019
Constant over-stimulation,
no thoughts of what’s to be,
numbs us from the inside,
separates mind from body.

But why change for anything
and take all this away?
Every pixel, every wire,
everything that brings us

further from the nature of things,
further from me to you,
further away from what’s real,
further from the truth.

Stay awake, remember
let your body tell you,
let your own mind tell you.
Feel it from the inside.

Blend pleasure and pain.
Embrace each moment willingly.
Let intuition lead you.
Seek authenticity.
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