The familiar is all but lost
Relegated to monochromatic melancholy
This place holds no joy
Once soothing, now both dull and lifeless
This is not my happy place
This is not my comfort zone
This place holds no peace
Backed into a box of light gray
Shhh...
Don't speak, lest you be heard
Don't watch, lest you be seen
Don't care, lest you be hurt
This place holds no love
A hint of freedom long gone
An air of acceptance
Lured by what once was
This place holds remnants of a dream

once again, i
abandoned my poetic post.

i ventured out and sought that of which most
would find unruly.

and like so many times before, my misadventures
only have led me

here,
to hellopoetry.

you loved and destroyed me
*but came back with tragedy

Thanks to all of you...
Thanks for reading my words with your hearts...
Thanks for opening your soul and embrace me...
Thanks for being genuine humans and looking by your hearts...
                                            I am....
Pleased to come across you, lovely souls...
Pleased to read  your words...
Pleased to witness your emotional process..
                                             I'm....
                                          Thankful....

How very lonely HP is,
In the middle of the night,
Reading long ago poems by friends,
Tapping little red hearts,
Only time I'm available,
After dusk; hours before dawn,
Reposting poems, my fingers just as assailable as Moby ****,
Or Hansel's and Gretel's witch,
I stare at blank, gray suns,
Wishes I, I had some to use,
To uplift; to free,
All the beautiful poetry,
Even the ones with coquetry,
I rapidly kiss plusses with my right thumb,
Adding to worthy collections,
Of addictive confections,
'Till 2,
When alas I sip hot coco,
Scratch my ****,
And fall asleep beside my cat; momo.

Poetry, you dazzled my eye
teased me with unearthly visions;
got me too high.

Primed my soul to fly to heaven
then marooned me upon the earth
sixed for seven.

You called across celestial shores
glowing in empyrean colors
then shut your doors.

Lost in your amusing mazes
I followed fast your golden thread
through dark phases.

Muse-abused and undelivered
my heartstrings wavered, stalled, then stopped –
arrows quivered.

Poetry – you’ve cheated on me;
winked and flirted, then escorted
Philosophy!

Spare me further cantos, curses,
keep your holy delirium,
unhinged verses…

On second thought, oh Lady cruel –
humiliate me – lead me on.
(I’m still your fool.)

*******, queen of the word
for you I’ll suffer untold shame.
I’m undeterred.

cannot be earned. cannot be bought
cannot be grown upon a tree
this is what your work taught me...

to be a butterfly of tin
tough. resistant to the pin
to be a rhino made of paper
traversing planes just like a vapor
to be a tigress of silk
giving young pure mother's milk
to be a light. to ne'er expire
to be a flower made of fire

to express my feelings
reveal my hopes
find the humor
in my slumps
to find my weakness
feel the pain
find relief in its refrain
to smile and not feel guilt
gilt the flower... it will wilt!

to say what I mean
mean what I say
leave duplicity today!

to flow with ease
to turn a word
however banal
or absurd

absurdity is apt array
for the world of today!

to listen on the written page
to be a child
to learn

to rage!

this is what your work has taught
I may not learn it as I ought
but it always brings on thought
so know your struggle's not for naught
you're a flame that's burning hot!
in amber each penstroke is caught
I will, each war, have fully fought
I won't be fearful
never fraught...

this your poetry has taught!


SoulSurvivor
(C) 12/5/2015

In the silence and misunderstandings that separate us
I need to believe there is a place where we can meet
a place of mottled light where the only shadows
are painted by ancient firs who conspiratorially lean
open, welcoming hands down to greet us.

It is a place where all thoughts of judgment and jealousy
are simply too petty for consideration
love being implicit in the moisture of the air
words are unnecessary for our eyes reveal
everything we ever want to say.

Fear and resentment are unknown here
we refuse to recognize them if they slither
into this haven while we are sleeping
restful, innocent, unworried
history does not exist, the moment held is enough.

If this vision were dispelled, my soul could not sustain
reality’s weight.  I would be battered, fragile
as a spiraled whelk on deceptively smooth rocks
splintered by hate and unwillingness
to be as the sea, fluid and graceful, all encompassing.

Will you come with me here?  
Or is the hour too late?
We can meet in this hollow sacred space
and begin again, let loose misconceptions
clouding the life we share.          

The path is faint
trust your weary heart
it will lead us to each other.