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Andy Chunn Jul 3
It was the first, and never before
Had flavor exploded, and I wanted more
My partner was dizzy from taste overload
Downing a pint of sweet Rocky Road.

Many a night, while sleeping alone
I’d drift off to sleep, and dream of a cone
And wonder what it would really be like
The time when you take that very first bite.

Tasting together the scent of each flavor
Ecstasy for each partner to savor.
And then a time of recovery and rest
Knowing that now you have mastered the test.

So go for it, and search the right type
Devour it all, with major delight
Just take the chance, and right it will seem
When you finally taste your first ice cream.
Did you ever look at empty space and imagine
The brilliance that structured its existence.
Did you ever call your best friend by the same
Rotten name he just called you.
Did you ever fear for your being, knowing your
Ultimate end could be in a minute, in a snap.
Did you ever watch a kid circle under a lazy
Fly ball and glove-block its earthbound path.
Did you ever love a puppy so much you couldn’t
Sleep without checking him eleventy-four times at night.
Did you ever plow the earth and smell God’s gift to man,
And talk the next crop up and growing.
Did you ever race your friends and run until your lungs screamed,
Falling down laughing at victory or defeat.
Did you ever watch a spider slowly spin a perfect web
With his patience uninterrupted by your insistence of contrariety.
Did you ever call the night-wind to hush
To stillness and lay sandy-eyed waiting.
Did you ever accept or reject the norms
Crammed at you or ignore their existence.
Did you ever battle yourself with ideas and judgments
That no man can answer and still seek your solutions.
Did you ever simply say hello to a perfect stranger
And realize that you are the strange one.
Did you ever sit in the grass yard of the post office
And watch the smothered stares of strangers.
Did you ever stop to realize that success to one is failure
To another and your words rattle empty to set minds.
Did you ever wish for a chance you’ll never have,
Realizing you would have succeeded fully.
Did you ever feel the grip loosen in spite of all your
Efforts and wonder about tomorrow.
Did you ever thank God for your ability to question,
To learn, to be human.
Did you ever watch an infant think, the wheels turn
And the language of thought distorted.
Did you ever try to express your opinion
To one who will not listen.
Did you ever listen when wise men talked
Yet incorporated their wisdom only in painful acceptance.
Did you ever wonder what your Mom and Dad were like
At age twelve.
Did you ever wonder what you were like at age twelve.
Did you ever wish for others to be happy, really happy,
But they never are no matter what you do.
Did you ever wish for peace but realize
That tranquility is fleeting and temporary.
Mother gaia, recycling queen

Stitches old bodies and fashions trees

These souls that travel around blue earth

In fractal beauty birthed and rebirthed

My Spanish life was short but rich

They knew me as the bejeweled enchantress

An african lot was bestowed in time

I danced a primal dance and became the divine

A boy of sadness for this whole life

A muddy battlefield became my demise

Now cutting through island overgrowth

I forage for food for my pregnant wife.
Spicy Digits Oct 6
What a spicy meatball of a life
This curious little salamander body
That is birthed and breathes
While the moon continues to orbit overhead
And space debris wink in the night sky.

Our individual unique little faces and souls
Born from millions of protein lego pieces,
And worn by family and circumstance
And sometimes pure chance' caprices.

What a deliciously weird solo recital,
These pink-and-green,
Everything-in-between
Fleeting lives,
In these absurdly floppy flesh costumes,
Bound by a slippery fable of time and place,
Of colour and race.

Some chapters are full of pain and struggle,
As we dance on the precipice between
Textbook norms and rebellious liberation.
But what fascinatingly quirky,
And gateaux-rich our little short stories are -
Sometimes swollen and aflame with sadness
Then extinguished with timely humour.

This time we are gifted in history,
Whether the first journey or our souls 332nd
We have it to taste fresh bread,
Chat to bus drivers,
Stroke the perfection of a pompom dahlia
Talk baby to the neighbors dog
Laugh heartily at our shortfalls
Pop pimples,
Sob out the pain in our body
Smell old books
And laugh our way to double chins.
Atoosa Oct 11
Mistakes are the path
Flagstones of experience
Moving forward NOW
Never regret, but squeeze all the learning you can out of the happenings of life. You made the best decision you could. I came, I saw, I may not have conquered but I learned.
There will be a moment when

all the mountains you have ascended

that tried to bring you down under torrent and hail

will be over your shoulder

There will be an instant when all you have learned,

all you have fought for,

all your mistakes, your pains, your cold,
your love, your light,
all of it,

melt together

and you know, finally; you have arrived.


In this
a new fear will arise

telling you
you don’t have
enough time

to complete your painting,
your sculpture,
your chapters of verse,
your photographs,
collages
and
mosaics

All you want
in this newly arrived
way of Being
is to
have the time
to
witness it all to creation’s end

To catch
The impossible weight of sand
at the bottom of the hourglass
with plenty of time to
watch the paint dry.
Poem on the curious things that happen to an artist after surviving death.
Zywa Oct 9
I read your poems

until the lamplight went out –


now I feel the wind.
“I had read your scroll of poems by the light of the lamp” (AD 815, Bai Juyi)

Collection "Em Brace"
Slime-God Oct 7
Staunch, we bear the wind.
In all it’s whirling fury,
we are unmoving.
I can feel the ground burning beneath my feet.
I wish I could keep all the promises,
Predict every consequence.
The ground dances, glances at my eyes,
Fills them with water,
I wish I was bolder so that I could shoulder
Insanity, that feels a lot like vice.
An unfinished story fills the space —
Is that a phase in which I face all the glory
That one day may ruin me?
It is a clue I need to set me free,
Accidentally, it is right beneath my feet.
The burning ground. I’m stepping down
In fear of being overwhelmed,
I may prevent the ruinous and furious glance.
It stands with me from rhyme to rhyme.
It breaths and sets my feet aflame — it’s nothing but a childish game,
In which I’m destined to resign.

The ground burns, it’s right on time,
So that I whisper —

Make it rain.
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