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K Balachandran Jun 2014
The night, is present with all her special accoutrements,
see how mystifying her final role is; from  now time is at a stand still!
the stellar remnants, after the play is finally over
                       --interstellar medium of gas, dust and dark matter
                       accumulated waste after the rock concert, light years long.

Sell it to the best collector of art in the cosmos
go fast,  find him before all the universes crumble.
Let each piece feed to his ego's need and the greed to possess
make him  brag to the cosmic pantheon that he has the Piccassos, Dalis
and The scream, Munch's epiphany of mankind's predicament,
and all the galaxies from the dwarf to the most massive
present, past and the ones just fermenting on a wasted hope,
and the most original of the nights, the very last ever.

We'll drink the bubbling white blood of the day and dance,
the moon is our accomplice, we want to disappear together
before everything starts to disintegrate,
humankind on a pilgrimage, has then a change of mind
ladies and gentlemen we now are going
not for a fishing expedition in tranquil seas, but for a hunt in the wild.

hunt the rest of the world that rejects
our proposal to surrender, to the inevitable, we invited
we were immortals till the day before
but then we found out everything has a price.
For the gift of fire to the mankind, Prometheus had to
endure tantalizing days and nights,  countless
let's forget the fear of sin, and false happiness of hope
even water becomes our pain,
once we are forced to think in terms of sustenance.
Aaron Jun 2014
untethered
through the dark,
we tread
across that familiar park

on the path coarse
she rose
graceful and free
she moves
like a gentle breeze
on a mid-summer night
our elbows locked
she turns and dances
giving life to a shadow
in the streetlight, static
and yellow

a commune of silhouettes
beyond the lake
like wonted mores
try to reach us ashore,
spellbound by the water
the black reflection ripples
and moves into stillness

red tinted clouds
drift miles above us
granting glimpses
of an indigo night sky
dotted with distant stars
and an orange Mars

almost time now
she spots the International Space Station,
a white lucent shine,
rise up from the vagrant reds in the west
and draw a lucid arc
across the indigo canvas
a deft motion of a compass tip
subtle, taut
and at ease

the white glow dims
and then fades
as the night turns on itself
we rest
on that wooden bench
overlooking the lake
just being
watching

the midnight drama
unfold,
like a fountain spring forth,
a breath we hear

take shape
as the ducks play and laugh,
as repeated greets by a shy hedgehog
as the bats in acrobatic flight
and the long white fluffy thing
which to this day
remains mysterious
to 26 and 21

the ubiquitous black intense
is void no more
awake we are
and our souls, a choir
a breath cosmic,
flowing
untethered
Brycical Jun 2014
Delicious midnight,
kyanite and citrine crystal bells buzz
& haummm....
Piano notes dance around the room,
some sing silent eurythmy patterns.

An amalgam of pinball gypsy
time travelers colliding--
the timing couldn't have been more perfect
as we rest in the sacred loft
under the metallic ear.

Full Flower Moon
whispers persimmon kisses at 2am.

Here we rest,
a space for the timeless animals,
wounded healers,
soldiers of peace
all seeking a brief respite....
collecting energetic auric heart fire fuel
before we slingshot off in our kaleidoscopic time machines,
candles navigating to the darkest reaches
of outer and inner space.

Here, fear dissolves....

Here, light evolves....
For Jesse, a dear friend and wonderful teacher.
danny May 2014
there's a certain beauty in the unknown.
a certain beauty in not knowing if
you're as crazy about me as i am about you.

there's a certain beauty in knowing that
my heart is ******* in such a knot that even
a seasoned boy-scout would cringe at the sight of it,
all because of you.

so many nights i have spent looking at the moon,
hoping you were doing the same.

and oh-so many nights have been spent swallowing
pills with various numbers inscribed on their very surface,
just to try to forget about your absence.

but the thing about the unknown and drugs and the moon
is that none of them can even come close to the beauty
that you possess.
danny May 2014
I stumbled into a world
where good vs. evil was routine;
where cards were alive, cats talked,
and a strange man asked me to tea.

I was young and forgetful,
the memory faded away
then one day I fell again
chasing a rabbit with a familiar face.

I was confused
my destiny once again unclear
a peculiar catterpillar
told me what was to appear.

If I shall fall again,
and be given another test
I hope the question is
"how is a raven like a writing desk?"
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