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M Vogel 6d

"They've outlawed it, you know.."

       "Outlawed what, Sweetie"

"The  Unknowable--
that which cannot be  defined
  or easily explained away..

That which cannot  reduced, down
in to something  more palatable;

  Or maybe diluted-down
in to  that which  one could drink
..without it bringing some form
    of dis- comfort"

She is looking down..
woven into her hair.. all things
Edelweiss,  suddenly begin  
   their wilt

  And  all along the waterway
  are those coming towards her
     to smother
You will hold on, my Beautiful
(or maybe even turn  to face
for the first time, with loaded gun)

--But Beautiful girl was never  meant
    to go loaded
(..And her beloved Rooster Cogburn  said
that she's no bigger than a corn nubbin)

    but my beautiful girl
    locks and loads, anyways--

Because the Mason-jars  
she was forced to   pour
   it all in to

     --were never made  big enough
         to contain it.

There's a small stall  at the  swap-meet..
on Thursday and Saturday  mornings,
  she rents a space there

      Her wares,  true liquid Gold..

   when a jar  becomes sold
   no hidden-thing will be  needed
        to sustain it

  .      .      .      .      .

Quiet hearts  are never meant
to reveal themselves

      Some words (in this world)
      were never meant  to be spoken

You'll see now, beautiful Angel--
that this Rare-Jeweled heart  of yours
  is not the only-one,

                perpetually Broken

Some gifts, the world
may never  be ready for.
may I be the one

to help  get that
un-ready World, ready--
(so very well fed
    yet still;

  so very slowly,  burning)

Some beautiful Heartbeats
are so very much worth dying for

        ...  And I,  myself ;  

                        I  am  turning..

--Look out, Mama, there's a white boat
   coming up the river
With a big red beacon
and a flag,  and a man on the rail
I think you'd better call John
'cause it don't look like they're here
  to deliver,  the mail;

And it's less than a mile away
I hope they didn't come to stay

It's got numbers on the side,  and a gun
And it's making big waves
Ira Desmond Sep 22
Our trajectory is unknowable, you
tell me: the planet
corkscrews around the Sun, sure,

but the Sun corkscrews around
a black hole at
the heart of the Milky Way,

and our whole galaxy travels on
some mysterious, incalculable vector. But sister, I
saw a photograph in

which two whale
sharks were brought to
heel by men in simple reed boats just

off the coast of the Philippines.
All that they had
to do was often feed

the whales gallons upon gallons
of frozen shrimp, poured from
plastic garbage

bags into their six-foot
gaping maws to portside.
Gargantuan, sure, but still

as obedient and eager for food
as backyard squirrels. I
remembered a grainy

internet video—I saw
it probably seven or
eight years back—in which

a captured whale shark
was winched
ashore in Madagascar, or

maybe it was the
Philippines again—no matter—
the thing still had life left

in it and struggled to
breathe while a crowd of
people gathered around—there were

women carrying babies,
girls holding baskets atop
their heads—and then the

men came with a long slender
blade and sliced clean through
the whale’s spine, vivisected it

right on the dock, and
the onlookers stood there quite
unfazed—I remember

being shocked at
the effortlessness of the cut,
the pinkness of the whale’s blood,

and the boredom in the onlookers'
eyes. Our father
took us down to San Antonio

on one of his business
trips there when we were five
or six—I think

you were probably
too young to
remember it—

it was when you and I
saw the ocean for the first
time. We drove down

to the Gulf of Mexico,
and we saw waves breaking
out near the horizon in pale

sunlight. I kept
scanning for a dorsal
fin off beyond

the breakers, thinking
that I might spot one—
sandy brown, mottled with

cream spots and glistening—so
that I might be able to
say to you, pointing, “look,

sister, there is a whale
shark!” Years
later we would learn

that he traveled down
to San Antonio so
frequently because he was a

philanderer. As a child I
believed that whale sharks
crisscrossed the ocean following

paths that we couldn’t
fathom, that
their concerns were

somehow beyond our
comprehension, but then
Keppler pinned down

the shape of the
Earth’s orbit over four hundred
years ago,

and the lives of ancient
sea titans are sundered

by men with indifferent faces.
Una nuvola arriva e copre,
Un ombra davanti al sole
Dalle tenebre
Diffonde la luce

Ha le forme di un tocco angelico
Forse un dio, premuroso,
O un suo messaggero,
Che abbaglia gli indifferenti

Ti avrò pensata una, due volte,
O forse cento o forse mille
Ogni volta era pura magia
Con le tue braccia a me avvolte

Ti avrò pensata urlando,
Piangendo e mentre ero felice.
Allo specchio mi son detto,
Rifarei tutto quel che andiamo sognando
Thoughts on a plane,
while I was going to a research center
the clouds had just the right shape.

NEVER close your love in a box,
When you feel like it
Just give it all, expand, explode.

You don't know me.
I don't know you.

You pass by me,
Every day,
On the crowded streets.
You say hello; I say goodbye.

You serve me food,
Ring up my beer,
Tax my cigarettes.

I give you money,
And your life goes on.

We see each other often.
But you don't know me...
A short poem written by my fiancé back during the days of our time together.  I decided to post it here, since it seems to me that it still applies, to anyone and everyone who simply goes through the motions, living out our lives indifferently as we pass each other every day.
Carlo C Gomez Nov 2022
of dawn:

a sunny place
for shady people.

Long shadows
on the lawn
of a thin pixelated
in parade
of blood red

But your curtains
are always

You hide
smooth and sterile

Finish your
and stay for

Buildings aren't
people are.

neth jones Mar 2022
i govern an idling heart                                                            ­    
doomingly glazey
won't lift a care                    but won't swat no fly either
maintains functional        with the safety hitched on
observes the public goings and fro-ings            
                           without discrimination
but offers no service                          
             no aid            
and no addition

docile         and folded         and dormant of view
in a world-scape kniving to be brighter                                                   
                                           more memorable and avidly self dominant
                             i am a skiving witness

the older i get the more this approach                  
                                           is not an easy one
i observe a neighbour bully about his kids                 
using jest rewards between shouting them to heel
and cuffing them violent
i observe a lady place her friend                                  
                                      with a simple remark
('i like your choker.. it's like something i wore as a child
it's nice to remember that')
i observe war retread on the screen                                      
i observe a couple secretly kiss and brush fingers.          

human spoil seen now ;         
        it draws pity, pain and longing
i am not devoid                        
                                  ­     despite much practice          
  some involvement on my part
                                             may be due
Carlo C Gomez Feb 2022
Dear Mr. P - [stop] -
I was your knife in the water, a credit card kept exclusively for killing - [stop] -
I was a gingersnap on your sugar train, a flower-filled glory box to swallow your whole wide world - [stop] -
I was night, night of the electric insects, praying mantis and ladybug — nervous animals, lotus eaters, enjoying a ceremonial after meal
- [stop] -
I was slivers of pseudoscience poisoned by man-made seasons — a new and beautiful and interesting disease - [stop] -
You and me, we are now the same — snapshots in sheared time, before the closedown of our impossibly ****** impulses - [stop] -
Best wishes, V
em Jan 2022
i've heard people say
"the one thing worse than sadness is indifference"

the people who say that
haven't spent the late nights
curled up sobbing on the bathroom floor
shuddering with each breath,
quietly screaming for strength
"oh god let me make it through tonight"

people who say that haven't played russian roulette
with themselves
gambling their lives for pieces of hope that may never show

people who say
that indifference is worse than sadness
couldn't be more wrong
i'd rather feel nothing than the weight of what i can't control crushing the life out of me
this night has opened my eyes by the smiths
Carlo C Gomez Nov 2021
Nothing to see here,
turn the volume down.

Commercials are a gravel pit,
these channels, toy guns

--they shoot muddy water
in your eye.

I'd rather a quiet night
cleaning the ducts
of my conscience.

The night is hopelessly
concerned for the ozone.

My fluffless pillows are clouds
in a pay-per-view sky,

Too wound up in its
binge watching of *** in Egypt
to care about the sun's wrath.

Look! My hot next door neighbor
is exercising in the **** again,
with the curtains wide open.

I'll watch her instead...
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