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Kenshō Nov 2019
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gxI3t67cspw
Listen and recite on tempo with the space between preferably
--------------------------------

Let us sneak past the beholders
And fall through the hedge

Twist and tuck your shoulders
Careful not to slip the ledge

Where that speaking plant rose
'Till all noise is scant

Pass the root that slows
'Nd Keep the leaf that quickens

Follow the vine that goes
Passed the sign of picking

When the lone holt rises
And the deep mire thickens

There are three stones stricken
Standing of similar sizes

There it is the time of all ages
'Nd it doesn't matter what your age is

Where the wind flower is always a toss
And where the rocks are growing on moss

I have had it with signs and maps
At this next crossroad I will try to get lost

Nothing feels familiar and I've lost all name
Here life feels only a process, maybe a game..

I'm feeling wayward
I hope you are feeling the same

Forget all clocks
We will look in each others eyes to tell time

Forget all forms
The great Dao is a mirror and you are a mime

Whistle 'gypsy' to meet a sekret of my kind
Passage to a garden of thistle and thyme

five fold colors from the canopy above
rest warm and low on the mushroom land of love

With draping crowns of brugmansia
and fragile ground of foxglove

tip toe the maze and careful where she lept
for where she landed is where many had wept

the life giving rivers we swim
are the same some were sweptt

or have you ever thought
that where you are now is where once a soul's body was left?

where one is complete
another in this life is bereft

so respekt what beyond that hedge lies
everything may be separate now, but everything is one when it dies

And if I were to shapeshift into a fish
my swirling ocean, i would call my sky

And if that fish had one wish
Would be that the world would never run dry

See your spells of intention and what you imply
dictates what your world is run by

And that is beautiful
no one can deny

But quick! cover with the shade of mind
because beholders of beauty are everywhere
yet some give the evil eye

so I shade with the hedge of night
And gaze with my third of sight

so my body can be hidden
and my soul in soaring flight

Because something in the air in the city doenst feel right
But I see it in every one of your eyes, your own starry night

if you are still weary on the path to unite
this spells scroll recite

in one lord and lady
in darkness and in light
i cast this as tinder for your soul to ignite
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gxI3t67cspw
Listen and recite on tempo with the space between preferably


i know there are some errors i will correct em later. or not
Erin Suurkoivu Nov 2019
Peel back the layers
of my rural purgatory.

Figure out
the critical junctures
of where I once stood,
with this one,
now on TV, and this one,
surfing in Hawaii.

I was a **** girl, spreading
my legs for sailors, and
getting crucified for it.

I am guilty
of still imagining
our beautiful possibilities.

Death may yet
claim him, and my ****
are still round
and firm.
Ju Temo Oct 2019
Can I find you past Mount Hua,
After crossing Cao’e River,
Through the fields of Longkou,
Will I be walking for long?

Sat, waiting for the train to go
To take me where I am supposed to be
Head pressed against the cold window
I want that seat.

Lost among the frames
And paths between stones
You should be somewhere among
The busy laying down of flowers
I want to know

A fickle not fitting anywhere
A missing piece,
Just wandering.


Who do I owe my existence to.
Who brought me here.
I would kneel down to you
And offer my deepest gratitude

Tired of floating up in the air
Just whisked around by the wind.
The tree with roots is stronger
The clouds so lonely.

Breezing by, the single leaf
Stuck in this one state
I’ll walk alone with my two legs
Don’t worry, I’ll continue to go
But where are you?

The people who came before me
Blocks of my past
You’re going too far
I’m lost.

This voice,
The voice formed
Trying to reach out
It’s calling out
It can’t let go,
Where it came from.

Every sunshine,
Every storm,
It surrounds us
Brings us to life.
I’ll always look up
And see it like you.

Going past Mount Hua
Alone among the clouds
Who put me here
I want to know.

I’ll travel long
And so far,
I’ve been walking for long.

I’ll put my respects
Will you see me
I won’t be disappointed
I’ll lay down everything
Just to have my place.

Left away
Those a part of me
I’m walking through the path
But where are you?
Ju Temo' is a freelance poet that is inspired by songwriting.      
All other poems can be seen at:  www.feelapoem.com
ANH Sep 2019
I walk another broken path, across a collection of burning fragments of orange and brick red, towering above my seemingly insignificant head down a pathway of forgotten futures to foretell.

Each tender leaf just falls. A crisp, whispering wind numbs my face, which would be all too great if it doesn't start to turn to a skeleton freeze and harden to a crystal clear.

Turn back time-- to a more pleasant day.
A day with no wailing cyclones of color circling around me,
No almost-black bark barred trees stretching its arms above my head,
No crunching sweet beneath my feet,
No musty fog to lose myself and forget,
No thundering storm cloud lingering not too far behind to finally come down upon me and sneer as I soak,
No looming forest to navigate through this seemingly endless broken path as I keep moving on.

But it can't be done. There's no going back.

I come across a clearing within and lay my head on the damp, wood soaked, earth-scented soil and look up. Look up into the ever-gray eyes of the sky, hiding its greatest secret--the infinite cosmos of possibly.

Oh, what worlds could there be?

Worlds of echoing majesty and light. Worlds that could cut the mold of ordinary life. Worlds where one doesn't need to navigate on their broken paths but where you can fly high above all else till they're insignificant to your gleaming sky-dried eyes.

But no.

In the forest is where I am. Does that really matter though? This is my fantastical world, here, so I should make the best of it.

I must go on. I step up again and continue in the journey. My journey. I walk to the sound of a trickling, icy, stream. I step over knotted root to knotted root. I almost glide on a mirage of gold and crimson.

As twilight whispers into the wind, I take a look around this endless wood of possibility and march forward on my broken path.
This is old homework from 2-3 years ago. I figured why not share it.
Mystic Ink Plus Sep 2019
It could be
Like this

You may think
He/She is following you
Actually
He/She may be chasing
His/Her dream

And you are in
As simple as that
Genre: Observational
Theme: You must know that || Crossroads
Fayez Sep 2019
I walk,
A thick brush
Paints my way

I cross,
An inked bridge
My feet black

I stop,
The black brush
Paints a crossroad

I sit,
days pass by
As I ponder

I decide,
A blackened path
Walking on ink

I wait,
The brush draws
More diverging paths

I reach,
Holding the brush
Snapping in half

I look,
My body covered
In black ink

I walk,
My body blackened
My path white
A person and the brush that paints their path. An ode to fate, destiny, and the premise things happening for a reason.
Sometimes breaking the brush will make us lost and 'blackened', but atleast we will be free
SWebster Aug 2019
Hey
I’m feeling pretty low,
Just feel adrift and stuck and don’t know which choice to make.
So I make no choice essentially,
the coward’s choice.
Looking at the thin strip of red-
barely visible, already fading-
I feel proud?? As though I have been resisting for so long, such an age and I finally managed it. I achieved a mark.
Albeit only a sliver, a skin scratch, one without blood
It gives me hope that there can be more
(A return to the past)
And maybe something deeper, one which will drip.
Something I’ve just written, a letter to myself.
Miguel Cardozo Jul 2019
Surely, though our story is to be found amongst the rooms and walls and shelves  within the library of Babel...

Each letter perfectly paired to the next, and every space in its rightful place.
Periods and commas punctuating every moment exactly as they should.

...That room has yet to be illuminated, The walls therein unseen, It’s shelves have been left unenumerated.
And the book is yet unnamed...

Lost is the certainty,
the written account,
existing within the infinite possibilities of algorithmic and mathematical clout.

...Leaving us to marvel and worry only armed with faith and good reason, through all of life’s seasons and its many unmeasurable miserable doubts.
Kinda at a crossroads with relationships and work... I found a website called the library of Babel where a guy basically came up with a way to get every possible combination of the 26 letters in the English language, plus periods, commas and space. Making it possible to find a perfect written account of your birth/life/death and everything in between... if you just knew the location within its infinite volumes of seemingly endless babble.
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