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Sombro Mar 21
Kiss me with deflating lips
Beach body beached on my mind
Fated errors in our minds rejoice
At distance confirmed and hammered in

To lift a veil and see the wolf
Corrugated eyes blend with the sea
Of unthought masses watching TV
Of the dark road, the foreign path

It's hopeless when your sleep
Loses its pull, its fire to be
What happens when legends draw their maps
And don't mark the road you knew they'd make?

I know I'm too young to feel this desperate
Never found the days that would keep the nights warm
Never saw the glint to the Tigers bite
Never saw the moon above the wave

Too old is an expression lost on eyes
Glassy for timebomb putty
Artists weary become manufacturers
When ignored, when declined

Beach body, that's what I had, a belief in clicky thoughts
Understanding caved in to knowing
And knowing fell to fact,

I've built my way, carved in gritty stone
That as sand my footstep knows
I'll crawl forward, step by slip
And follow the path up till the ahead.
A word on creation, and on walking paths that are aging
Francie Lynch Nov 2019
We don't know our Best Before Date,
And that's a good thing.
But if you're in the Dairy Section,
Fire on all udders,
Don't kowtow to bullies.
Remember, the herd has your back.

If you find yourself in Produce,
Then produce;
Don't be content being
A pea in a pod.

There are the cereal killers,
Using wry wit,
And Rye Not.
Many are marbled and flat,
But not us,
We're Christmas Cake,
We Endure.

ME, I'm in the Meat section,
An offering of flesh and smoke
On the BBQ altar of rendering.

Yes, we have a definite shelf life,
Growing stale, curling at the sides,
Drying out,
Souring and curdling
Till our expiration date.
John H Dillinger Aug 2019
"No, Stop!"
I cry, for the first time
nature is trying to change
into an ugly old man
hair here there and everywhere
tired eyes
Alas, my mind wants to go on
and its a price
we all pay
so get ******* on with it
I'm having a tweezers day.
father awakened

beckoned by bathroom in night

his death approaching like headlights in


in cars he careened into cornfields so

long ago

in women he obsessed over

poured over while rolling tea

in records he flips through


suffering alone, retracting into song

crucifix still hung over his jaded bedpost

lotion still sits on by his bed

where he lay debased and tempted

by nothing

while his house breaths fissures

and crumbles

where his legacy sits truncated and dusted

in books of song

carpet collecting impressionistic stains

stove top counting days with soot

medicine cabinet reminds of his frivolous


when he was foolish and paid bills

before he was afraid to climb his creaking


before he delivered flowers to the funeral


before the acetaminophen ate his soul
Darryl M May 2019
Not everything about you and I has to be always perfect.
Not all of your secrets have to be on the open.
Such takes time.
We don’t need a favourite song.
Favourite dish.
Favourite TV show.
We just need each other.
We need our Love kept in place.

Is it fear to fear the fears of the unknown?
What you and I have for each other is unknown.
At least we have each other.
At least we know one another.

Facts of this World remain hidden.
At least I’ve got you to reveal.
As a beautiful bride is unveiled, so is your love in my heart.

I love you now as my skin carries me.
I’ll love you till I carry my skin.
Let’s grow old together.
K Wolff Nov 2018
I heard it once, spoken, in a hushed tone-
Was I awake to hear these words?
Was i in company or was i alone,
To listen to these words in that hushed tone?

"Do not go silently into the night"

Those words ate into an innocuous soul -
From the time I was young, to the time i was old
Those words lingered with a tenacious hold

I misspent time and felt so much pain
Life felt less the blessing and more a bane
I trudged endless lonely roads
And witnessed relations form and corrode

I existed to exist - obligated to survive
No star of any story, no one to thrive
I was the one who was seen yet unseen
Just another cog functioning in a machine

My words were heard but never heard
My future as futile as my spoken word
Silence fell upon healthy ears
Silence - the one thing we all fear
Arke Aug 2018
have the courage to do what must be done
to fix all that is broken and know when to run
and we will-
run through the fields away from it all
hold hands as the seasons change into fall
and they will-
transform us from youth to old and grey
despite wrinkles of autumn, together we'll stay
Glenn Currier Jul 2018
I want to become a diver
like the scuba guys in the Thai cave
risking death to save life,
going deeper into convoluted passages
of darkness to pull life from it.

I want to become a heart surgeon
transplanting energizing mitochondria
into babies’ dying hearts
to revive and save damaged cells.
Oh to receive from the gods of creativity
an infusion of fresh energy
into this old body
and renew flagging cells
with a flowering fragrance
as sweet and unique as Plumeria!

May this diving deeper
be as fruitful now as it has been
in the decisive moments
I was able to conquer pride and self
to reach out to others
whose spirits had frowns
whose life energy was down.

I know: thinking, reading and writing
are not quite enough to reach and taste
the fruits of angels.
Like the classic tension
between “faith and works”
“deeper” means a marriage
of information and application
to get transformation.

And so these moments of writing poems
and diving deeper, rising higher
for the creative spirit
are not divorced
from kindness and reaching out
in friendship, intimacy, and love,
from taking time and spending energy
beyond these meditative walls
embracing life where it calls.

I am a diver and a surgeon
a spark striker, a flame keeper
always desiring
to move
deeper, deeper, deeper.
Author’s Note:  The idea for this poem has been lurking within ever since I heard an energetic call from a teacher of mine as he proclaimed it is not enough to go deeper, that we must do good works and serve, move to action, action, action.  I felt guilty because in my old age I am not as active, leading, and responding as much as I have been most of my life.  I had spoken to him and others of my need to “go deeper.”  And his proclamation stung me and sent me into consternation.  In this poem, finally, I have been able to respond.  And it was the heroics of the Thai divers and the surgeons at Boston Children’s Hospital into mitochondria transplantation that brought me out of the darkness of confusion into this light.  If you are interested, see this amazing article about the research and procedures used by these pioneering doctors:

Finally, I thank Marty Collier for the inspiring little poem-like statement: “Information plus application = transformation.”
Patience is a virtue, she said with a smug smile.
Time holds a tight grip but only for awhile.

For if I can out wait time, all of life can be mine.
Waiting is easy when you can wrinkle your life line.

Past, present, and future have become only words to me...

For you see,
I only exist in the now.
I have learned to be free.

Free of the regret that comes with the past.
Free of the worry that comes with the future.

Waiting can become all we do,
But if you learn to love waiting...
All of life is open to you.
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