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h b r Apr 2017
new born
born new
to a world wide
with nails fine smooth
round like shells
little hands that shudder as they curl
hold me tight i will hold you
always
i will pearl you
between rough hands
between a box of black and white light
inside this frame i will keep you
born new
and sweet like water
brush love over my skin your skin is
so light and your eyes ripple
as the sun does when it spills over
the blurry horizon
like water over the brim of your hands
red and brilliant yellow
and cagey orange
and then it's autumn and you
are still new
and your voice could raze even the taller trees
the peeking birds hear your
warble they drop from the
branches dripping and dropping
puddles of whistles & beaks & birdnails
this is a feathered rainstorm growing growing
growing up
which is hard
i can’t make it easy only
easier
the oysters crack open and
daylight shines softly down
to the sea floor
you lie there on the black rocks
lie in my hard hands
lie to your mother and tell her you don’t
love her (she tries to say it back)
but do not lie to everyone about everything
and especially certain things
it's what i did and it made growing up
something awful dark and
alone
i ask again do not
sink to the bottom of the sea
coming up for air makes breathing easier
but not easy
Max Watt Dec 2016
Chased alone by Exterior Judgment he found himself face to face with The Mirror,
Its surface winked at him, but the person who stared back from within did not.
And then came his Interior Judgment. He asked of The Mirror,

“Phase me out,
Obfuscate me,
Obliterate this judgment I feel.
Make me concrete
against which solitude will
beat its relentless fist
so that I will no longer bleed or bruise”

And so came his christening, the depth of shallow water.
For years he paddled and splashed there knowing his time would come,
Because this was where real pleasures lurked, just beyond his reach.

“Cloak me here,
Keep me invisible to all,
Except those who matter,
And then take me blindly to my coffin”

And one day, while he lay in the pool, he felt the world’s foot on his back,
And he gasped for air, though for what use he didn’t know.
Years later when he finally captured his breath, the only words left were:

“Make it stop.
Make it stop.
Make it stop.”

And now he stares back into The Mirror and the Mirror glares back.
And he wonders who he could’ve been.
Where all those years had been spent.
Max Watt May 2016
Crawling into my own head space
only reminds me of the mediocrity
that climbs the walls of every town and city.
Every thought that races furious around
my brain screams
that I can never be the curious one.
Just the One who observes and never truly
finds his home.
Just the One who whimpers
among those who talk big
and in arrogant tones.

An unfamiliar thing that
never embeds itself in-
to my being.
Talk of arrogance - everyone has it.
Even those who are above it.
Even the One who is not amongst the arrogant,
because he is alone with it. He does not
confide it.
For the One who sits alone confides only in himself
and shares his arrogance with nobody.
Why else would his self indulgent scripture be titled as it is?
Luann Jung May 2016
Everything I own, I carry with me:
i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)
It has done me good because of the color of the wheat
But love is not a victory march

Herta Müller
e.e. cummings
Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
Leonard Cohen
No copyright infringement intended; only trying to be creative in the presentation of four quotes that I happen to like.
Victor Havel Apr 2020
My ankles transport me to work
Work on nothing
Nothing

A moth directs itself to light
Direction
Nothing

Who is this life for, anyway?
Some-thing or some thing?

Things someone thought about and it seemed right at the time

Nothing can beget nothing
No thing is possible without hope

The thing I want most is to be a wire.
I chose a generic title to avoid any predisposed ideas of what the poem is about...
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