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Bristles and branches come crashing down, spraying embers at your feet.
One by one they plummet, seeking solitude within your ability to cool them.
Twist and tweak, be silent and listen, for the ones worthwhile will instead, set your cool ablaze.
Master has a new *****.
For years I've went from one diamond to another with no penny for my services.
Dug holes and buried daffodils,
Dug holes and buried daffodils.
Carried by the spirit that shall give life to my children,
Children to children's children.
I've worked the way of a ***** and never let my master carry a *****.
'though time told too many stories of the previous slaves,
I hoped mine was that of the history pages.
The blood drips on my cold knees as I crawl the dark for a meal,
She usually brings me something nice,
Oh master what are we having tonight?

The master's table should be kept clean at all times,
We don't want master eating dirt, alright?
Master is late for her food tonight,
It must be a busy night.
She usually utters of her unwell businesses, I believe she is tired.
I feel the chains on my feet being loose,
Master won't like this one bit.
The trees tell tales of the old berries,
And those that bury often get buried by no one.
Master smiles and tells me to run as she holds a gun counting to ten.
I'd run a bit more faster but my feet are swollen and needs healing.
As the trees come closer, darkness comes to sight and master smiles as she sends the new ***** to bury my corpse.
It is in the fall.
                  Fall.
                  Fall.
                  Fall.
                         We rise.
                 Rise.
         Rise.
Rise.

It is in being lost we are found,
it is in being bound we are freed.

Live, learn; prosper—rise.

Not only one chance; it is in your entire life.
Poetry is like my diary
I can tell her anything and everything
I can scream from my soul
In aching longing
Intense rage
Or sadness beyond measure
Perhaps it’s TMI
But I tell her my secrets
I tell her how you taste in my mouth
How you took the time to figure me out
How I love the feel of our own rhythm of life
Indeed no one else understands but who cares
My poetry, my diary, my life
It’s messy as ****
At work my thoughts a-running, actually I just miss my man right now
Caloris 5d
Learn more than you can teach yourself -- teach more than you know yourself!
Similar to:
"When one teaches,
Two learn." - Robert Heinlein
Jessica 5d
We must learn
to not love
in a way that
is fulfilling to us,
but in a way
that is fulfilling
to whom we love.
marianne Dec 10
I will her to put her feet up, my mother with swollen ankles
She’s been standing all morning in a hot kitchen
making borscht
I bring my lawn chair close
We three are sharing lunch, the breeze
through thick cottonwood shade
cools us

“I would lock him in his room”
says my daughter, “I would kick him in the shins
and spit”

We pretend not to hear, but her words linger and I taste them,
sweet vengeance

“Stop fussing. He’s a crazy old man”
“He’s been your husband for sixty years — he should know better”
“I would hit him over the head with a frying pan”

I watch as my daughter tends to Emo the caterpillar
She adds fresh grass to the jar

“He’s had a hard life”
“We all have pain”
“I would mail him back to Siberia”

Of course she is listening—
always an ear for a good story,
for injustice

“Betrayal is learned”
“So is kindness”
“I would poke him in the eye”

I leave the zwieback for last—always best for last
Butter melts in the hollow

“It is our destiny to learn love”
She does this sometimes, shuts me up like nothing …
“I would wash his brain out with soap and …”

She stands bewildered, jar in one hand
Emo lifeless in the other—
reconciling
So there we are, holding two complicated, conflicting truths. And love is always the answer.
Xallan Dec 10
Sometimes I forget-

Knowledge is slippery like a wet frog
Near impossible to pin down,
Look it in the eye, and demand answers,
Kissing it with unfulfilled wishes.

Memory too, what's loved is past,
Fallen into gaping black holes of time
Where synapses have failed and died,
Neurons curl away like sensitive ferns.

Oh how pain is forgotten! And failure,
I as an individual cannot remember
My fallacies, nor will history recall-
So that no one will ever learn.
In the light of beguiling muse,
   darkness knows no realms!
   What have my dreams become of me?
      corners still overwhelmed!

Shadows sleep;
   sunshine awaits ... a torrid heat,
      a careless receipt!

In the sight of a beguiling muse,
   handshakes know no stakes!
   What have my hopes become of me?
      morales, I now forsake!

Pastures weep;
   trophies arise ... a scorched release,
      a wordless fleece!

In the heart of a beguiling muse,
   malice knows no time!
   What will her mind now wonder of me?
      mirrors will never define!
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