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acacia Oct 8
let me bask in your light,for you are higher than me right now, since we are from the same light, but today and all of my years before, you shine heavenly, you shine brightly
you beam this all encompassing cacophony of electric blue and sense-depriving white;
and i want to be this,
i pray to you for you are above me and you give me this light
i pray to you, my baby boy, for you are my guide and my love, please know I am your Mary
i pray to you because you are a close source of divine light, a close river of pure water, and i am experiencing the same divinity you encompass every time i meditate on you,
the same hydration you receive from the elixir of knowledge every time i meditate on you and the origins we share
every time i cry tears of overwhelming joy,
each time i join myself with the capacity of linearity and am on the edge of the coarse shores of Boundary and Limit, I can step my foot inside the ocean to feel the water, I will not grab or kick the water, I will immerse myself in the water,
I will be in the water

we are no buoys in the water; to not be the anchor and sink in the water, but do dissolve us farther from matter—now us, the drops, become indistinguishable from the sea
rough draft and a one take, didn’t edit really

just wrote... man really is closer to god when he faces the sea...
Glowed swelling, glimmering into
Neptune’s fantasies, frenzied
Splintered mad with sweltering gems
Shaking the summer from our hair
Dreams falling like stardust into the ravine
As the earth said “anything can be, anything can be...”
Casey Sep 5
Tragic heroes have tragic flaws.
At least, that's what the sophomore language arts teacher had taught.

Juliet and Romeo,
ignorant obsession.
unchecked ambition.
Achilleus and Agamemnon,
self-righteous ego.
Tragic heroes slew by the pen for a lesson.

What about the ones that succeed?
How could they possibly have flaws?
We hold them on a pedestal for all to see.
Maybe they truly were perfect--at first.

It's easy to fake a smile.
Nothing has changed, we are the same.
Not every flaw can be seen at surface level,
and they're not necessarily vices.

For instance, loyalty.
Now that'll get you killed.
Put that into perspective,
and we're all just tragic heroes with tragic flaws.
I know this doesn't make much sense. It's content though.  Yes, I'm back!
Tres Tacos Al Pastor
Not a Tuesday but
A Wednesday



I kissed him
I kissed him on my 30th birthday
My eyes were closed and it was my Very first

My first time with a man
And he smelled like no woman
I'd ever smelled before

It made me think
Of white
He was
White and older but

His eyes twinkled
He looked

St. Nick
White beard trim

But big bellied
And my age hit
By three multiples


But we all
Must have
A first

Mine was just
A little bit different than
Yours was

I'm a never


May 17, 2019
My 30th birthday


I don't know which spiraling circle
Was the the last straw
Or if there was
A Needle
At All
I'm still
Falling deeper
Into the bottomless
Golden sea of broken glass
Until end turns time for one more .
The daily special
The Waitress
Breathing out smoke
Into frigid air
Burning scars
Into my skin
Rubbing in the honey
To cement the makes
Staring at the sky
Middle of the night
Tracing constellations
Of words never said
Trying to reach the moon
With a broken pen
These words are meaningless
Inspiried by some good songs.
Byerly Jun 14
Nobody knows
I've been dying in LA
where all the souls
stay in the middle
going nowhere
and also anywhere
where the beaches are peaceful
and the nights are pure storms
Through you, unity.      
Understand us.              
Up, up, up
Drug rush
Abuse turns absurd
***** Junction
Unreal unravels delusions
Euphoria undeniable
Exquisitely unveiling
Unbeknownst subtleties
Until unlimited universe unfolds
Inspired by Hope Dufault-Hunter

Composed with only the letter u in the spirit of the OULIPO

“Reason is a slave to the passions”
In the midst of thoughtless sand
Just off the coastal road
Where systematic palm trees
Provide just about the only distraction,
Ronnie runs a run down hotel
There in the gulf of Aqaba.
He knows his job well,
He's letting the place cool down a little.
He often sleeps in the day, at reception,
And he's got a glass eye that doesn't blink,
You can book yourself in for one night only
Unless Ronnie has know you,
Has seen you before,
Someplace shady, perhaps,
For it is said that,
Ronnie's tanned for several lifetimes..
Stay a night and
He'll treat you well,
For he's always up for a drink
And his pocket holds more than one light,
He says he used to be Egyptian royalty,
But now he's got his own cabin here
A bit out of sight.
But that's not where he keeps his things..
His cupboards are blank
And his blinds are eternally drunk,
They never come up.
He says he's known this bunk a while,
About the time fame went  aside
And the rain got into the swimming pool,
And now  you can watch it bloom with niffy pride.
And so half a bottle goes
And midnight it arrives,
And Ronnie sits you down in his dimly lit back room
And begins to tell you about the kind of people he can find:
Those who want to bring you luck,
Other who'd sell you gold at half the price,
No muck,
You may shrug
As he claims to know where the good times dock
And the bad times kept at bay,
And though he admits that he never had a close shave
You notice a scar on his cheek.
He was a minion in the spice trade
Before that war in Mozambique,
A model soldier he was
Credulous & meek and
Conveniently stupid,
So he raged and looted
And his ***** got him booted
To sunny California,
Where he got Cupid tattooed on his upper arm,
He drank with philanthropic truckers
Smoked with greedy hippies,
And he still wears these bracelets
That look like the end of a shredded sleeve
And a pinched fedora
that had its ex head murdered,
It was down town LA that instilled in him a feel
For rough bourbon
And sweeter-than-perfect promises,
He says he'd known love
Real love too,
And sank with it
He watched dreams become skeletons
And skeletons become dreams
In the cities that took shape of parodies of yore
You notice that he's got almost no nails left,
But he swears he never stole
And he never wept
He says he begged in his bead,
But his pleas weren't quite potent enough
His visions too misty to get handcuffed
And put to work,
So he scuffed for joy
In the midnight murk
And morning slumbers,
Safety in lascivious female numbers,
Action in cursed bottles & pills,
Castrated wonders & faceless thrills that meant nothing but fills
Merging into chaos
He was disappearing fast,
Diving towards greater liberty of thought and speech,
Skedaddling from basic options,
Throttling in gaudy plastic oceans,
Without a map, without an anchor,
He says he finished school with rancour,
The only thing he took to end..
He takes a swig before he brags
That even death might overlook his self
Potentially, maybe,
But you know for a fact that actually,
He's 16 years to live and that is it.
And 4 years after that nobody will remember ****.
And when you tell him that,
the morning comes,
But he doesn't **** or argue,
He smiles, puts up his thumb
And calls it a fair bargain.
six seasons awash
another spring *******
bus streaking playground

Logan Robertson

To say that the LA Lakers of the NBA is in a crisis is an understatement. Six years of no rain. Or sunshine. Six consecutive years of unhappy faces of fans enduring one bus short of a barn. No playoff appearances, nothing, but a bus being stripped of its parts. When you look at the Lakers then, when the father (Jerry Buss) ran the franchise, and now it's hard not to refute that the current Buss' (six siblings that have 66% ownership of the Lakers), led by Jeanie are a bunch of toy clones of the father. Since the father died in 2013 the Lakers management has been tinkering not thinking.
your girl b Apr 8
I know you have a new love
However, I wish you the best
If you didn't find happiness in me
Maybe someone else will give it to you
As the flower, with so much love you gave me,
I am leaving today I know how to lose
But it hurts so much
If you saw how it hurts to lose your love
I don't know if I can love again
Because I gave you all the love I could give
Como La Flor in english
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