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Freddie Ruiz Feb 9
I remember every detail of that day
as if it were yesterday;
the two of us, alone together
at midnight on that Saturday 21st.
My heart was beating fastly,
my legs wouldn't stop shaking;  
a part of me wanted to leave
while the other was dying to stay.
And then we stopped behind your car
and after a simple goodbye you grabbed my arm.
My shyness went away and I felt an urge in my heart
to kiss you intensely until we ran out of breath there in the dark.

For once I was going with my feelings
as I pressed you closer to my body,
and I felt the need to let go of everything I had suppressed
when I saw you leaning against my chest.
I was so full of intense desires
while circulating your waist with my fingers
that I succumbed to my own weakness
by allowing my heart to guide me with no resistance.
And then I kissed your lips for one last time,
and I felt emotions overflowing deep inside.
And for a while I got lost looking in your eyes,
as the passers-by saw how we melted under that street light.

On my way back home I kept on thinking about you
and if that would’ve been the right moment to say: "I love you",
just when I had you in my arms, lost in your eyes
and gave you that one last kiss goodbye.

When the desire invades me
unforgettable memories come to mind again
of a moment that belonged to the two of us,
in front of your house, on that 21st of June.

1/17/2000                                                                                                                           81
Written on January 17, 2000
Composition number 81
VineBabe Jan 25
It started with a hug
years of desire and affection
summed up in one simple
heart warming gesture.

Foreign sensations
a little fumbling to find my Mark
we fit right in.

Perfect opposites
the Lark and the Owl
Cold and Warm
the Neophyte and the Teacher

Forgotten fears
and new found peace.
We must meet again.
i had moved from the bedroom a few nights earlier
i knew i wasn't escaping the giant red spider made of neon
or the spirit that awakened me by slipping into the other side of my bed
or the whispers just before fading off
no, i wasn't escaping at all
and on this night i was made aware of this fact
first the hair on the arm
then the awareness
the clarity and cognizant knowledge
of someone else
next to me
have you ever touched a low voltage fence
that surround livestock or horses
imagine a finger with that voltage
touching your ankle
then your knee
before ending at your wrist
this was no nervous twitch
no dream state imagined psychotic episode
this was my spirit friend telling me
you cannot run
you cannot hide
and you can no longer deny
my presence
this is my home
and you are my guest
sleep tight
I lived for 2 years in a renovated library that was built in the late 1800's. there is more to the story that I cannot reveal at this time. I am currently working on a book that is an autobiography with emphasis on my spiritual experiences among other phenomenon that came my way.
Brynn S Dec 2018
Shine against cool winter’s skin
Breath in place of crackling voice
The room has been awoken with footsteps
Behind a veil of black the eyes are left hushed
She felt him, electricity buzzed
The motions felt swift, though lingered on cress
Little glimpses, flashforwards to each motion
Electric candlelight burns at edge
The eye of the hurricane ascended
She felt him, his hands like silk
His touch greeted her, she fell
Into the skeleton of the room
Confined to their space of absolute
Stars outlined edges, moments left to soak
She could see without sight
Each spin of the record
Each hum of the base
Comforted by quilt, entangled in skin
Olivia Oct 2018
You used to be my favourite encounter.
I used to go to this park
And just sit on a bench
Pretending to read my book
Pretending to listen to the birds singing
Pretending to observe the nature
Pretending to take pictures.
But I was just waiting for you.
Everyday, around lunchtime, you came.
You ordered at that bar
You wrote some words
In that little notebook that you carried with you everywhere
And then you were gone.
Once, you came with someone.
He was a friend of yours I think,
He asked you what was in your notebook.
I remember that I listened carefully :
“Drawings” that’s what you said.
But I knew you were lying.
I’ve seen you, several times, writing.
Why would you lie?
When we started to talk, some months after, I asked you the same question
You had the same answer.
But then you added :
“Because for me, words are drawings.
I don’t look at what they mean
But at what they look like.”
I like encounter as a word
Because it is all *******,
You can write it at one go
But you have to raise your pen
To finish the cross on the T.
We too, were together,
But at some point we had to part,
Only to meet up the following day
In an interminable encounter.
don't really know why I wrote this one but I'm posting it anyway :) I should study for my test right now but well
She has yet to enter my life
Like a ship approaching the coast
The winds that carry her to me
Are my own thought vibrations

My thoughts about her ring out
And create waves
Bringing warm waters
To my shores

She has yet to enter my life
Like the sun on a summer's dawn
Bathing the pastures in glowing warm light
She is the warm rays in the morning of my life.
Glenn Currier Aug 2018
In the crazy busyness of the day
where electric sounds suffuse,
even a little chat is often a freeway
of words and noise.

And in the midst, he tells me
“Just be yourself.”
There I am
in the small space of silence
being undone
with nothing to say
while I wonder
what self.

A friend tells me they’re getting a divorce.
The doctor says the tests are positive.
I watch: the surge of floods taking homes and lives
or images of smoke and debris right after a bombing.
After a real serious play or movie.
In the waiting room after I hear she is going to die.

In those lonely tiny spaces
of darkness
I cannot speak.

In those aftermath moments
I am silenced.

How do I react
to being out of control
or make these things normal
or fit them into my routine ways of being me?

Silence asserts itself
like a wild animal
I cannot tame.

At these intervals
of being powerless
I hope I do not miss the chance
to humbly bow
in silence
and embrace my humanity
and smallness
in the cosmos
where it is utterly trivial
to just be my self.
In humble gratitude to Rowan Williams looking forward to his upcoming book: Being Human: Bodies, Minds, Persons.
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