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As white as Wisconsin,
    As white as Ed Gein,
As white as Tommy Thompson,
    It's a white Halloween.  

                          —Boulder, CO
                              10/31/2019
I love the sound of steady-falling snow
Heard through a window casement’s glassy sieve
When everything is off (the radio,
The stale debate on “to live or not to live”),

And the silent fuzz of sound-in-negative
Accompanies the light, dynamic show,—
The freestyle choreography of blow-
ing flakes that drift and spin and dip and dive.

Pacified,—snowed,—blissed-out by this very sound
Is how I’ve spent this Christmas afternoon.
No accident is this, no; nor a boon
Of cosmic chance or coincidence profound:
It’s gentle and mighty Colorado’s gift
To one whose spirits needed—this day—a lift.
Shibu Varkey Jul 2018
A thousand shifting dunes
A million mirages
Brazen storms a raging
heavy laden with sand

None a single cloud
In the fiery blaze above
Blinding flames of fire
Pound the miles of sand.

Footprints lost in time
Wiped by moving strands
Was there and is no more
The trace of who tread where

Pushing on with head bent low
Arid winds and sand assault
Unseen yet clearly seen
To reach that patch of green.

Within the nature's viles
An island of paradise
Lush green and flowing blue
Unreal surreal but true

Thousands lost in the dunes
Scorched parched marooned
Few tho of good fortune
The oasis they find a soon

Each day as life's wind rages
Time shifts and moves as dunes
Blaze of regrets beat down
Track wither to go is wiped

Within my daily desert
A patch of life so verdant
Makes the trek more hopeful
The oasis that is you

Green with life so vibrant  
Blue and clear your spring
***** breeze your laughter
My Oasis for here and after

Shibu Varkey
Does the time make us fools or simply were we always so to begin with .
Sketches faded now remain a ghost that haunts only the artist and nobody else.

The clock strikes midnight, but time stands still in this illusion of borrowed hours

Will there be a moments peace within the turmoil which ever lingers upon this day
The hours are toxic to a idle mind.

Falling in a routine and a favorite vice the blade still glimmers even after all its use .

We always find misery easily where others just themselves.

Voices speak to me of freedom
But freedom is not something I desire
I beg and plead with you
But hell
what do you care
I'm lost
But don't treat me like a fool
A fools freedom in your smile
Is not freedom at all

As I walk now past empty gardens that once knew life of summers embrace .

Winters chill is a empty ended promise .
Now simply scorched is the earth that does remain.

The clock upon the wall simply keeps time we only hold memories and nothing more


Life has been a listless game of joys and sorrows
I've spent my joys too quickly and they nowadays spread themselves thin upon the stage which is my life
Sorrowful me that lingers on the edge of reason
May reason be the saving of my  sanity and not its end
Rai has been a great friend through the years and it was a honor to do this co write with her .
And for someone who had not co written before I swear she could have fooled me .

Thank you my friend
Star BG Aug 2017
For a better life,
we work and toil
balance and struggle
reach and dream.

For a better life
we move in human form
awakening to who we are,
and why we came.

For a better life
we look into hearts
to hear our inner wisdom
to unite with others.

For a better life
we now integrate
our tears and laughter
to focus on new beginnings.

All for a better life
as co-creators in new energies
infused with love
infused for peace.
inspired by RH78
Lawrence Hall Nov 2016
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com

           An American Legion Meeting

O let us sit, our coffee cups to hand
And discharge half-remembered boot camp yarns
As ragged volleys of camaraderie
Blasted through well-defended hearing aids

O let us not raise funds for this or that
Through weekend fish-fries in a parking lot
Or catalogue good deeds inflicted on

Those

For whom our kindness is a border breached

O let us sit, our coffee cups to hand
And remember again the Vam Co Tay
The bottle and old thoughts haunt me all the same
In whispers of what was and should never be did we lose our way
or just vanish as quickly as the night before the day?

So many times I thought of lines
now simply I cast shadows where the blank spaces do reside.
Tomorrow cannot promise so why should I?
Let the words hold there own where I never could .
We all have a cross to bear and me?
I prefer to simply drive in the stake

But make no mistake,
what's nailed upon
an empty cross
is full of regret and loss
and underneath a barren plain
is buried pleasure and sadistic pain
self recriminations and needless blame,
but all the same
we build empires of shame
to live inside as truly insane
we drink from memories
that stoke a flame
to burn eternally, assuring fame
and comfort in a well of regret
we drink to forget, tomorrow
was just a promise made to us
by those that sit at our feet
when they crawl upon our laps
we are beat, we are trampled beneath
our own demise, we hid beneath
our own disguise
and we expired, when we desired
surcease from our wickedness

As I walk a red card in my  jacket and miles of empty thoughts long cast aside
No words find solace were the demons cling to their vices.
All things decay as if to remind the living of the walk we all must bear

I find no guilt in my pleasures just more scars to bare in happiness to none.
Whispers of once was lay in empty thoughts.
I speak with a mouth full of razors all to eager to cut down the meek .
No words hold me in chains I simply but as I will nothing speaks clearly as a pause of silence.

And the old thoughts that linger to grow into rumors
Now they are all that is left of me .

Rumors of old bones that litter
the path to ruin are spoken by
those that whisper to dead ghosts
and kiss bloodless lips
inside crumbling passages
of age old keeps, on windswept
moors where bleeding eyes leak
tears weeping for something more

Down the streets cobbled with fear
slicked with garbage and the stench
of ever rotting verbiage,

Speak no more in silence, cry no more in penance of an oft abused
life that only walks alone under an
ever present thunderstorm of
howling winds and lightening strikes
and icy rivulets that trickle upon skin

This walk of  sin is where it begins .
I have seldom found a true friend who's lines so easily flow with mine Helen is a true friend and it's always a honor to work with her .
Richard K Aug 2014
I stare into their wandering eyes,
My history there in black and white lies.
Can I go back before this time?
Back when my life was numb and divine.

No mouth to speak, my heart is mute,
This mirror shows what I have learned,
This reflection of the bridges I have burned.
My sickness cut their spirits' root.

My youth propped up, upon a stage,
But freedom lay outside the cage.
The colors surged and blood ran hot,
Can I pay the price to be free of his thought?

Oh lights, oh lights, they blind, they burn,
This hopes' shining vision,
Just a faithless derision,
And my new found freedom still waits its turn.

The mirror shows all this to be true,
A life in the darkness ever fearful of you.
But the mirror cracked as my reflection ignites,
And even without words my electric heart can take flight.
this is old but I needed something to post

— The End —