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I sail through the ocean
Of love to reach you.
At last I left alone in the
Island of love alone as it is
Without knowing the way to
Get out from here.
javert Mar 8
as the birds fly south for winter
the excavators come home to roost.
they bow their heads to the ground,
wishing for wings to tuck their necks under.
everyone guards piles of salt and twisted metal
brushed cold and golden by the sun.
a boat lifts its arms to the sky,
all rattling chains and gentle, grasping claws.
gentlemen, best prices for scrap here:
all metals, all amounts.
the highway crawls home.
At every bar on the shore
till I can't drink no more
young ladies svelte and so tanned
they wink and they smile
with eyes that beguile
like the tides rolling in
to the strand

Jimmy Buffett would say
every hour today
is five o'clock in the world
every shot of cane ***
my max and my sum
every wave every surfer has curled

So out in the eve
too somehow believe
the ladies and women desire
to give me a spin
and hope I give in
as mayhap my woody
Ahhhh the sweet taste
not going to waste
or a drop of ambrosia to lose
her lips too mine
better than wine
maybe it's me
that she'll

Lunar Feb 4
looking into
your eyes,
i wouldn't think
of getting lost
in them.

your eyes
are a getaway
where i find myself.
to lj, your eyes are second home; a place i'd forever be a tourist in.

Gemma Jan 27
All of a sudden, I am there again. With out any warning. Stranded, on a little island, inside myself. I can see and hear people, but I can’t make out what they are saying. Or who they are even.  I’m just stuck, on my island feeling numb.

It can happen frequently, hourly even, yet sometimes weeks will go by when I don’t visit that place. Then, again, out of no where, I’m back. Surrounded by a Black Sea of nothingness.  Sometimes I can save myself, swim away. Dry off and go about my day as if I were never there. Other times I stay wet from the water, i feel sodden and heavy, irritated by the salt.

I’d like to say it gets easier being there but I think I have just become accustomed to it. Accepting of it, almost.

I don’t want to accept it, but it’s less draining that way. Or maybe that’s what I hope. I’m not sure any more.

I visited my island today. Not out of choice you see, I just seemed to drift there, taken by the current. I stayed a short while.

I would like to stay away, from that island, if i could. But it all depends on the tide.
Lore tells of a cold, brumous island,
thoroughly clad in a dead fog, and silence.
Patrolled by only a few, lonely sirens,
their purrs and songs have long since subsided.
Times of enticing pirates and beguiling pilots
have been traded for times of shyness.
Some opt for quiet nights of gentle crying,
others for anxious hiding.
******* creatures, once desirous,
now left forlorn, nearly lifeless.
Obscured, hidden from the horizon,
this island is their asylum.
Rolling green highlands adorn black, craggy bluffs.
Waves crash, vamps weep, fog rolls, and time slows to a stop.
An island lets itself go.
In rising  water finds a friend;
The past comes to naught.
Northern Poet Oct 2017
I feel empty
Empty inside
I want to run away
But there’s nowhere to hide
**** it
I’ll just get in a boat
And go for a ride
Set the sails
And go with the tide
I’ll go with the wind
Wherever it blows
All I need is a drink
And something to smoke

I’ll escape to an island
To a place in the sun
With no one else
Just me and my gun
That’s all I need
To be out in the sticks
Peace and quiet
And somewhere to think
It’s not the end
Just the start
Only me
And my broken heart

We’ll just sit there
And talk things through
Look back at the times
Of just me and you
When I’m down
I just look around
I see the trees
And some clouds
Grey skies around me now
I close my eyes
And look at the floor
Flick the switch
And feel no more
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