I just wanted to feel again
For too long I was trained to feel nothing
Self medication was killing my senses
The government numbed my feelings
Her lack of love killed my hope
She had cheated on me again
I was a thousand miles from home
And then I met you

I was broken, lonely, lost, and dazed
confused, hollow, a killing machine for Uncle Sam
But deep down, the trapped little boy cried out
for passion, for love,
to feel something other than nothing
and there you were
An angel with a devilish smile
the Southern Belle I'd always dreamed of
On a park bench outside the rec I confessed
with so much fear, I wasn't ready to let my heart go again
but I really liked you, and I couldn't hold it back anymore
instead of being let down, you lifted me up
from a painful October to a November of dancing
your name rolled off the tongue
like an Italian singing to a Sinatra Sonata
Kellie Greene
a North Carolina peach with a body like a violin
a beautiful, sexy warrior woman, with a heart of gold
Who knew such women existed!

With each moment I fell harder, loved more dangerously
I kept winning, so I kept pushing my luck
with you, I always got lucky
I loved you
and you loved me back twice
each kiss was a heroin shot that froze me in place
don't even start me on your Southern curves
or your Carolina twang
God crafted you like a sword smith crafts a katana
smooth, sexy, and razor sharp
few deserve such a goddess
I sure didn't, but Fate doesn't always pick favorites
Fate give me you, and you gave me something
I never knew existed
Love that didn't cost me freedom,
Love that didn't drive me mad
Love that didn't leave withdrawals
Love I wasn't afraid to give back
And the sex was something the angels sing about.

Kyle D.

do you recall
dancing through tall grass?
i swore i loved you

Lady RF 7d

Choreographing words 
Into theatrical dances 
With her imagination,

Gracefully exhibiting 
All of her thoughts —
Using letters 
As lavish decoration.

Having them leap-out 
Onto the stage, 
Outside of her mind,

Hoping in each performance, 
“Her life’s story”,
You will find.

Lady R.F. (C)2015

Reposting an oldie!

                        ­                Of
                                                        ­ ­       My
          ­­                             You'll
                      ­         Listening  
             ­                    Making
                   ­ ­                     Strum
          ­­                              Your
                        ­ ­      I'd
                     ­                      Connected
  ­                                            Wanting
                   ­                   Let

So miss hearing a guitar being played. Was  a constant sound in our home

Every week they gather around in a dark room
Where sounds are the rulers of body movement
Music becomes the puppeteer that aims to abolish silence
Prophecies of love and lust spread across the floor
The veins of the room are shaken by harmonies
Sight is overworked to the point where it no longer works
Light beams run wild, and spotlights bring shadows to centerstage
This busy room is where the dead are born again

But when we want to talk about the dead
Who said anything about coffins and carcasses
Anyone becomes dead when they have lived too much
Like this lady in the corner sipping on her drink
She wears her lips like blood on a battlefield
Her body is raised like she's tipping over the edge
Her skirt hugs her like an old lover
She laughs loudly like she’s ready to cry
Her tears fall directly from the cracks of her broken heart

Another is a boy drinking his youth away
And drinking away all his clean shirts and pants
His eyes wander and surf through the sea of people
Around him are others who drink like him
Others who want to forget
He gulps down each red cup he can get his hands on
He waits for the alcohol to go straight into his brain
Like polish remover, erases the traces of heavy hands
And sharp words that hurt him every time he breathes

For some, this busy room can be home for a few hours
Because home is where life is not allowed
Life does not interfere with our safe space
We come to this room with our dead hearts
Hoping a drink or a song would jumpstart it back to life
We hope the beats bring back the beats in our chests
We hope it brings back the warmth in our skin
For this is the room where the dead are born again

To those who like a party.

I don't belong
to anyone but me
I belong to wind
and wood
and water
and Earth
and the taste of a whistle
dancing in my teeth

I belong
to every beat
of my mother's weary heart
I belong
to the wildness
of children
as their lives start

I don't live anywhere
but here
and now
the tick-tock of a clock
as it chisels though
these rock-hard hours
every twitch,
twist, and turn
of my growing body
marks each second
that I can declare,
my heart's wide open,

I am the blessed
and the cursed,
the simple and complex,
thriving on faith,
dying under the weight
of wasted dreams
I will survive
so I take every ashen scrap
of burned dream
with them build the steps
up which I climb
to the place
where I belong.

I dream of dancing with you.
Although, I'm not exactly good at it.
I dream about just us two,
Dancing and moving together, sounds fun, I'll admit.

I would love to dance,
as long as it's with you.
I'd give dancing a chance,
if you taught me how to.

I'm sorry if I step on your feet.
I'm not the best dancer.
I'll try to move with the beat,
I'll distract you from her.

Dancing never really was my thing.
Harry Roberts Aug 26

Molten Gold
His touch
A wanton hold.

He chases away blizzards
Brings fire
Stands against vipers and lizards.

My man is a God
And I'll dance for eternity
Brotherhood, love & fraternity.

Short and sweet. Hope the message is clear.

swaying across the hardwood floors
swoon, swoon, swoon
under the moon, moon, moon

your fingers dance across my spine
like piano keys
your hand tapping against my thigh
like a tambourine

a gospel choir singing
in the background of your laughter
sobriety is easy
when you're drunk in love

and you didn't even know you could dance to this

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