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Erwinism Sep 27
Us All

In hunger, my belly aches,
of clawed darkness, I’m afraid,
to forsee what is to come, I’m blind.
—just a reflection of all else.

On damp paper you may sit,
on thorned cushions someone may,
to the vast universe, insignificant.
—just a reflection of all else.

To linger, is in the hands of time,
but as the rest, home waits as death,
merits mortals with same eyes.
—just a reflection of all else.

Fields of wombs
grown on unsteady soil,
the ides of May, harvested
and cast into the fire.
The brand is seared
into the soul,
yet we scoff and sneer,
while we dangle on the branches
hanging on for our dear lives,
of the same burdened trunk;
of the same root that sired
us all.

—just a reflection of all else.
George Krokos Nov 2023
Where small minds gather there is bound to be
trouble brewing and people who don't see.
______
From 'Simple Observations' ongoing writings since the early 90's.
David Hilburn Oct 2023
Listening to the future
Sing a song, sing a deeds our
In the stark and relative promise, we cure
With hugs and kisses, the toil of anarchy in all power

Cherished time...
With imbued lips, the chastity of sorts
The wind to live once more, in world and chime
To know a clash with poise, these tears are yours...

Rights risen, to voices of callousness...
With the claim of sincerity as a tool, that becomes
A harrowed force, we have never seen without bless
Of a seclusions kindness, though even a hate may be some's

Risen rights, to voices we care
Forth a heady Christ, the trade of a lifetime?
Walls of avarice and heed of a monstrous appetite to fare
Is here and now, beloved, even in the eyes of barren lives?

Burden in sight, brief as a war with silence is
Evermore, the turn of chastity into a problem for needs
That burned a charity's flames, a grant of sin to substance
That in the spoken drive to see another become, living seeds

Welcome home
The vanity of surmisal, and its hurry to question the truth
Has added, has asked the vestige of powers, has life atoned?
For the notice of speed in the vices we spare, from even the risks of poorness, so aloof...
A row with the blessing of the neighbors, until richness has faced the music, we are a harmony that found you, blind...?
M Vogel Sep 2023


"They've outlawed it, you know.."

       "Outlawed what, Sweetie"

"The  Unknowable--
that which cannot be  defined
  or easily explained away..
That which cannot  reduced, down
in to something  more palatable;
  Or maybe diluted-down
in to  that which  one could drink
..without it bringing some form
    of dis- comfort"


She is looking down;
Woven into her hair.. all things
edelweiss,  suddenly begin  
   their wilt

  ..and  all along the waterway
  are those coming towards her
     to smother
                    .
You will hold on, my Beautiful
(or maybe even turn  to face
for the first time, with loaded gun)


--But Beautiful girl was never  meant
    to go loaded
(..And her beloved Rooster Cogburn  said
that she's no bigger than a corn nubbin)

    My beautiful girl
    locks and loads, anyways--
Because the Mason-jars  
she was forced to  pour it all in to,
     were never made  big enough
         to contain it.

There's a small stall  at the  swap-meet..
on Thursday and Saturday  mornings,
  she rents a space there
      Her wares,  true liquid Gold..
   (when a jar  becomes sold
   no hidden-thing will be  needed
        to sustain it)

  .      .      .      .      .

Quiet hearts  are never meant
to reveal themselves
      Some words (in this world)
      were never meant  to be spoken

You'll see now, beautiful Angel--
that this Rare-Jeweled heart  of yours
  is not the only-one,
                perpetually Broken

Some gifts, the world
may never  be ready for.
Lip-Kissed,
may I be the one
to help  get that
un-ready World, ready--
(so very well fed
    yet still;

  so very slowly,  burning)



Some beautiful Heartbeats
are so very much worth dying for


        ...  And I,  myself ;  

                        I  am  turning..



--Look out, Mama, there's a white boat
   coming up the river
With a big red beacon
and a flag,  and a man on the rail
I think you'd better call John
'cause it don't look like they're here
  to deliver,  the mail;

And it's less than a mile away
I hope they didn't come to stay

It's got numbers on the side,  and a gun
And it's making big waves

https://youtu.be/-yzOpjQsXvk?si=nNaMXxzqjLtP_DPf
.
David Hilburn Jan 2023
The next act, of adrenaline
Supposed forces, to win a kinder stare
Through the looking glass, as if shine
Is a wall to itself, patience and their horses, fare

A race to the more, ever and stone sore?
Of a friends cleverer smile...
Same to how, we found your quarrel
With me, a simpler distance to while...

Mean or main stay...
This moment, made for the devil and the blue sea
Meant, in time with sour notion, pain
Is the only force we see, for a man or woman in love, deem...

A hat of errors, that knew you for a wiser momentum
A whine of distant feelings, that shares the known, to be
A callous share in proof, that has the time to question a room
A singing candle? awake at the touch of a lover, is my kiss anarchy?

Hate a rhyme to begin, with a resolve in the rage of another?
Spite, carnal license, and hopeful sycophants of a rule of thumb
With your name on it, and my cares, the risks of loving a bother
With your needs and vice, as a charity we will know is succinctly won...

Heroines, with a table to eat from, timidly share a savior
******'s, with a resolute few, is here to skip the wisdom of done who
Hero's, with a tap to ply and explain, are a safety's warrior
He, with an excused hand has a reason to be, to the patience we do too...
A request from hell and back, that has no final kiss, but rages mind...? What if a silent kiss for purposes unknown, was yours?
I S A A C Jul 2022
my blindness causing me strife
never committed to being right
but never committed to being wrong either
just trucking along the beaten path
I didn't know there were fires birthed in my wake
I didn't know for goodness sake
I would not be the bad guy, even if it were my fault
but ignorance is bliss at the top
water the burnt fields, open my eyes to the real
could you open my eyes?
for real
My Dear Poet Dec 2021
A blind woman gave birth
to the most beautiful girl
on earth

She could feel her heart beat
but could never see her face

She could touch her hand
but never saw her
eyes of grace

She could smell her skin
but never seen
her smiling

a beautiful blind woman bore
the most beautiful woman on earth
who saw her mother more

than just with eyes and all their worth
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