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pitch black god8 May 2019
~

dark early pre-dawn

body suspended between the-dark ochre earth tones of night,
and the teal pealing notes of warning of an impending morning,
signs aborning, me rising with urgency of the leaden half deaden,
torn from the bed casket to venture into a different kind of twi-lights,
nature demanding both intake and outtake, a restoration of balance

but first a bumbling wobbling, the body as carnival bumper car,
installing soon-to-be-bruising for later examination-exhumation,
lurching from handhold crevices in the walls like crazy cliff climbers,
my balance disturbed, eyes try  tearing apart the sticky glue of night,
my sense of direction keeping me from free falling into green glass
edges of glass tables, barely, and not always, red cuts evidentiary

“my balance disturbed” words fresh formed, and a poem expulsion
required to balance the unjust scales of spirit soul and the body cage,
patch an negotiated agreement between warring cousins, just a
twenty four hour ceasefire to retrieve the wounded and the
corpses unfounded in the small copses of false shelter,
like my ancestors expelled from Spain, making escape to be
strangers in strange lands, or remain hidden in place neath disguises
of clothes of new poems, prayers for old and new gods

this new poem comes quick like a young man making first love,
for the poem has been written by thousands nights of practicing,
so ready for quick retrieving in a smattering of a few minutes,
expulsion expulsion
what a perfect verbiage to capture the night terrors, the differentials,
the procession path between what was and what will be,
when my balance restored and this poem’s completion installation
in the body of my work, as a nail disguised in the works of my body,
entering by command of the pitch black gods
5:29am April 24th
A-McIntyre Apr 2019
If happy is an emotion and emotional is me, where oh where would happy be?
See I cry too much, and if you're lucky I'll scream.
Is this a weakness, or simply just me?
I say out loud "I'll just runaway",
because everything is my fault, and I don't know how to change.

If I cry in your presence, will you call me dramatic?
If I let my heart show, will you call me weak?
If I tell you I am hurt and defeated, do you blame me?
The world made me.

If you present a stranger a secret, is it still a secret?
If they tell, are you selling a small part of your soul?
If your heart is ripped open, but you can't find the tear.....
This world that made me, why can't it be fair?

If everything is in a balance, why do I feel tilted?
If everything has a purpose, why do I feel wilted.
If the sound of a clock reminds you of your mind....
This world that made me, just isn't very kind.

If happy is an emotion and emotional is me, where oh where would happy be?
See I cry too much, and if you're lucky I'll scream.
Is this a weakness, or simply just me?
I say out loud "I'll just drown the pain",
because everything is my fault, and I don't know how to change.

I grasp, I claw, I see the light.
I fight the waves, I fight the night.
I run, I hide, hug myself tight.
I fight the world, I fight with all my might.

This world has made me
but
This world isn't right.
so
I always lose,
but again, and again
I always fight.
Oskar Erikson Apr 2019
peace comes in packages we sometimes can't find strength to open

peace comes in millstones we can sometimes release ourselves from

peace comes through doors we open
and sometimes reveals itself
once we shut and bar some from entering

peace came and laid down arms in the name of forgiveness

peace came and lasted

peace
Sai Kurup Apr 2019
Head spinning
Heart aching
Torn between worlds
Like cloth being ripped apart

One of tradition
Speaking my native tongue
Wearing my culture
A dress adorned
With the tales of nameless ancestors
Lost to history

One of modernity
Pursuing the passions
That burn like a blazing sun in me
Eyes sharp, voice echoing

Trying to find day and night
In search of me
Sharmila Juliet Apr 2019
I always lost my balance
While trying to step on
The right path.
No one is there to hold me
From falling.
No one is there to lend me
Their hand to get up.
Now, I am learning how to
Balance myself from
Shattered pieces of stars.
Shy Apr 2019
I feel like I am walking on a tightrope
Gently balancing myself
On the thin line
Between trying too hard
And letting go
I sway to one side
More often than the other
And I am finding it difficult
To regain my balance
Carl Webb II Mar 2019
demons and angels.
horns and halos.
wings and wings.
even the pharaoh,
born with Plato,
sings and sings:

“I long for heaven
as well as hell.”

these aren’t just sevens,
they’re eights as well.
the time will tell.

—————————————

o’, thank the stars for darkness,
thank the lord for ghouls and goblins,
thanking god for satan’s roar?

playing the cards of hearts
to flash in clubs with diamonds,
save the spades and maybe score?

what more is said
for parity?

win the best and lose some more
for charity?

nevertheless and neverthemore
the wrongs go right
for parody?

enter a death
to save a life,
and lose the mind
to get to therapy?

nothing is left for days
and nights bereft,
we fuss and fight
for clarity.

nothing is left for days
and nights bereft,
we fuss and fight
for clarity.
emru Mar 2019
i keep my balance,
    throughout the day,
         until you meet my way.
              suddenly feeling dizzy,
                    tipsy, looking at your
                              pretty face.
Anna Mar 2019
Breath
                                          In
                                                                               Out

Think of rain not pain
Think of pages not rages
Think of the calm not the bomb

Find something to ground you,
Then...                                              Breath
                                 In              
                                                                              Out
                                    In
                                                                    Out
Breath, focus, it will be okay
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