i can see the Sun as it burns in the blue
i reach out and touch the space between us and i feel warm
i rope a comet and expect  that i can ride it to get closer
but after i get the loop around its cumbersome form
i realize it died before i was born
and i am floating again; drifting like a leaf on the snake river surrendering to the current with which i was given
with no chance to change direction
and i know what i am not and i know what i cannot do
but it doesn’t mean i cannot try, to divert a river over time

© Mike Mortensen
Don Aug 9

Hope is a kind of grit
- Exists -
In hostile places
- A kind of gift -
When we are broken.
- it doesn't break -
Strong in pieces
- without permission -
Here to stay
- That faintest voice -
Sit and listen
- its reason enough -
Hope is speaking.

The tinge of secondhand cigarettes fill the air,
Meshing with the scent of a stale motel.
The waft of solitary sex lingers on the unmade beds.
The dilapidated roofing, cracked and chipped,
Threatens to fall on its ghostly residents,
Who care little for the subpar shielding,
Which lets in the acid rain and crumbs of insulation.
The outside, which was once filled with children
Blowing bubbles, filling the moving air with floating life,
Now rests as a statue grey, unnerving in stasis.
Behind the front desk stands the concierge-
As timeless as the cobwebs in the corners and
Dust on the grandfather clock, long since unmoving.
"He was once a great man, as tall as Yggdrasil itself"
Residents were once told.
Now he stands grey and hunched,
As his residents lay sedated and soft.

Timothy hill Mar 23

Transduction, she was of power towers above a world with unlimited
comparison.

Eltric mood either or kind of style.

You and me forward no back wards.

Center of a pulse are nozzle pours freely.

Warriors of time always on her side.

Molding reason, and never waves of good bye.

Failures only occurs when guilt gets its way.

Minds think minds blink so how or why do we age.

Age is not meant into death.

Think of death as a whole with bits missing.

Drinks are funny-ly spelled to mandela effect possibly.

Diet sodas for instances die t.

Die is nighters or resume of false death.

"Die is actually, dimensions is every thing.

When you think of a flower in full brilliance and color.

It glows green, and pink in certain growth stages.

Female the word is made in the same purpose.

Fe is iron on the periodic table.

Hence the word female strong male.

The metrics of life.
Andrew Fahey Feb 22

Putting my foot firmly on the pedal
We come to an abrupt,
But expected
Halt.

Wanting to be bored
But suffering with frustration.
The disco tail lights offer a way out
That is not taken.

What hope do we have?
Like sitting on a rock
Its not that bad
But it could always be better.

Steering slowly east
The shadows move
Faster than the grass growing.
Need to check the paint.

Familiar settings
Allow for the tasting of an expected dinner.
Not mundane
Not after this journey.

Nateive Son Feb 14

Comparisons are silly,
Like any electron knows its own name.

YOU KNOW ME
AND I KNOW YOU

I saw you once in the Freak show,
Next to the Bearded Lady,
Or was it Obama?

I can't tell anymore,
Separating the shit show from my coupon booklet,
Tearing out a page and buying bananas,
These are my gifts to everyone.

Kind of like the man,
Who would scream from the Bible,
When I would walk to class,
Point at the frat boys drinking Chick-fil-A lemonade,
"DRUNKARD!"

A chuckle,
A breath,
A dance away from my bed toward the creeks and hills.

Thinking again,
About,
Whether you believe in Christ,
Buddha,
Muhammad,
Eisenhower,
Or the Flying Spaghetti Monster,

I still love you.

Look up "Get Got Death Grips Kazoo Cover" on YouTube for the fundamental essence of my verse.
harlon rivers Jan 11

Where is the strength to be strong ?

For strength is not a passing season ;
it does not come and go lightly,
by and by

The true nature of stalwart love
" is " unconditional ,..
an enduring friendship,
in and of itself,
cannot pass alone ―

Strength knows not colour
nor measure of dark or light
The creed of its roots ;
the plea of its strife,
within misery becomes belief

Yet is dolour felt a contradiction ?
Our own vision's
day by day devise
to bear diminishing life ?

Where is the strength to be strong ?

The doubt in faith that ebbs and flows ;
lost in gravity of deepest oceans'
blackened push and pull ?
No matter the despair embraced
that which makes the broken feel whole

Where is the spirit to be strong ?
The verve that emboldens strength ?

A Life is driven by a Will to BE
― is ―

Manifesting transformation ,..

Rise up the hidden fountain springs within
where all spirit waters begin

Sturdy strength ― Resilient and strong
"Never enough" belies love’s urgent calling

"Never enough" is of enslaving device
a fleeting moment
ne'r  a candle burnt out

The Will to BE
  is always enough!
    to BE ―



© Harlon Rivers ... January 6th, 2017


thank you for reading
introspective thinking out-loud

My Dad always told me: "Stay who you are"

You can be more than people say you are ―

" weep not for the memories "
of cross roads
and finding the strength to move on ―

love eternal ... rivers
.
Sally A Bayan Feb 2016

| / / | \ | \ \ | \
/ // / | \ | \ | / |
/  / / \ \ \ | / / \

Storm is gone
and all hypes  have settled down
i go straight to that one place
for that much awaited
cleansing...............and freedom
i strip myself of clothings
on the surface
and those underneath my skin...

Under the shower
i am bare
as a newborn babe.  
sighing....as i surrender myself
to the trickles of water sliding
                                            down
                                                   my
                                                         body...
I turn around once...
                              twice...
                         ­           thrice,
                                            to spray the wetness
                                                     all over me...
...i turn the knob gently....for more water
...close my eyes  
...as countless thin drops flow out, touch my head,
                                                           ­     i let them trace
                                                           ­             the countours
                                                       ­                          of my face...
Mouth opens a bit
i drink in some...to quench my thirst
let go of some...and retain the rest
be overcome by the coolness of the tap water,
.....take time to reflect...to ponder...
....while wet eyes give way to sniffles
....blending with those refreshing trickles,
...........erasing muddy stains of fear
...................and dried marks of tears
................sighs, of fatigue...and regret
.............these, i most often neglect...
.....under the shower, they'd be quashed
..........i'd let them all be awash
......................save for my personal friends,
..........like grit........and good ole common sense.

As water saturates my whole being
...a few expectations and dreams
..........go down the drain
.......while others.....stay
........and dwell within.

Some feelings just cannot hide
...some, refuse to surface, and stay buried deep inside.


Sally

Copyright October 2015
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

^^^written after the heavy rains in October of 2015^^^

When life gives you load of shit,

just embrace it with true grit.

Carroborree Feb 2016

Snow's melted, and all she's got left is the cone,
the skeletal bone streets, where she was
yesterday once so Snowwhite pretty.

Mountainous mounds of shit from canine and human kind
allude to beasts that roamed these streets in nights gone by.
They thought their tracks and cigarettes butts were covered
in a cloak of snow, but sun can't wash away sin.

All she's got left is the grit, beneath fingernails, iron rails,
bitumen - Pech! - from clinging on too long to yesterday.

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