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Our dearest love has fallen
The night arrives the same
Shocked and feeling solemn
For when darkness reclaims
It's an unpleasant surprise
Daily grave planet digs
Towards ground in varying size
Again
Pebbles and twigs
Disturbed a deeper level
Dashing beside fear
Black eyes of the devil
Secrets and lies appear
At dawn grief will linger
Faded heat of the sun
Greater the poison from the stinger
Shine is at point forced to run
Weighed down by loss I am feeling
Our frame anchored to the ground
Burden remains leaving us reeling
Within in blackness does astound
With sharp blow takes the victory
In daylight look for shame
In moon hide what we're scared to see
Have only sadness in us to blame
Written 2-8-21
My Dear Poet Jan 15
anything that reflected you
from glass to a mirror
I would shine and polish
till I saw you clearer

anything that sounded like you
from a poem to a song  
I would sing and recite  
and quote you all day long

anything that resembled you
a painting, a clipping, a frame
I would keep, collect, store
and label with your name

Yes, anything
absolutely anything
that came remotely close to being you
made up my life and all I ever knew

my whole being was all of you
and you were all I became to be
It’s no wonder now without you
I spend my time in search of me
Her body pulls weight with ease
Ask mountains if they are displeased
Question clouds drifting in the sky
What is orbit's watchful eye?
Have spun circles too long
Dizzy as current moves us along
Communicating inexact words
Sentences sometimes are outright absurd
Kissing off-target
Inaccurate aim
An impressive meaningless game
Expressing inner thoughts strictly forbidden
Settles now
What's hidden?
Unapproachable horizon
Distant
Bright
From the past learn abuse is alright
Understand sea and it's secret depths
Neither decide
Desire to descend it's steps
For indignity she avoids at all costs
Collisions difficult tempt and accost
Start anew
Wiping slate clean
The "we" discovered that lies between
Ever so gently make change
Offered affection usually exchanged
On her own battles pain
Heart will survive because love remains
A returning circuit all burned out
Body will live
With
Without
Written 2-8-21
I never dream
I am grateful for that

You used to experience night terrors

No idea why
They occured every single night when you were young

I have nothingness until morning wakes me up with a brutal slap to the face

You occupy daydreams though
It is odd that in that realm you still retain that indifferent demeanor
As if I have conjured up your essence for a few minutes

Peculiar how you talk to me in the familiar condescending tone I have grown used to the past two years

Unusual because I would rather picture you the way I always yearned for you to be

My mind consistently has worked in a literal process though

Someone who left skull strives to remember exactly as they were

So in matter of seconds
Brain's wandering fantasies quickly transform into nightmares

Every occasion

So I attempt not letting my head wander these days

No amount of discipline enough to stop it

The harder I try containing it the more it roams
I rarely remember my dreams these days
After The Rain
I Sing Again
After The Rain
I Live Again

The Rain, The Rain, The Rain

The Flood of Tears
Have Disappeared
From The Tide
Of Constant Fears
Suddenly
Your Sunny Day
Will Stay
Will Stay

After The Rain
I Sing Again
After The Rain
I LOVE AGAIN

The Rain, The Rain, The Rain

(c)Debra Lea Ryan
02/01/2024
2nd Poem/Words of 1st Album Concept I have challenged myself to create during 2024 - Life Willing. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zXuaSNDSAfY
Poetic Eagle Dec 2023
Once l loved you, you hurt me
Twice l forgave you and myself for expecting so much
Thrice l only asked for your presence, you gave me hope and crushed it

Until l learnt where l stand in your life
Your heart was with everything else except me
Pay attention to when people need you
Ken Pepiton Dec 2023
If bards became bums,
and ne'er-do-wells,
if, then, now
well, we may imagine,
these past seven decades,
have altered human conscience use of truth.
Servants of the sown dream,
daring to die for a good nation, as a man.

Poets in the mainstream bend believer's
imaginative use, evoke magic crocodile tears
of free wedoms, mobs, poor, co-know co-rect core
audience, participants in the experience, once.
----------
We understand the plague of liars is upon us,
as honest messengers, we acknowledge, at
our core, this is where judgement begins,
mind level core die for gnosis, tense,
fixed point you
and you
alone, as one led to learn
true, so true,
you'd dare die
to prove you knew it, right.

Audie Murphy, pre-myelinated frontal lobes.
Calm squeeze, and breathe, and hold and squeeze.
Ifery as real as any mirror neuron truth test verifies.
I could, I did, I could again,
with weapons fashioned
on a spirit pattern wedoms
take as granted, under all out
temperature and pressure,
inner peace,
outer turmoil, push,
squeeze,
as
either instance ifery, so
tuned to, some
times ring true.
Peace passeth…

If, my son,
indeed, in mind, we readily redo the deed…

If if a rare deed were a dared deed
who done it none need ask,
in our we,
it was the boy educated to believe,
there is no greater honor,
than to offer one's life,
to the nation, under God, by age six,
time and again,
I pledge, we all said, I pledge
- or vow, or dedicate, my whole being
six or seven times a week,
for twelve years, using kid faith, affirmation
and more, exposed latchkey kids,
to televised hours metadata
of heroic prewar plots,
in case of emergency,
break the forth wall…

where super heroes recruited kids
to collect box tops, and earn official Jr. G-man
decoder rings, and D-day clicker identifiers.

Know who is on our side, click.

Hey, go outside.

And make believe life is like a movie,
and you can play any role, but if you die, you do.
oops.
- it's Gaza there, sorry.
- Goliath and his brothers old turf.
Is Ra El, as re al as
a message in mindform, pretend
to
pay
attention,
think the time it takes to dip,
and swirl the drip of the pigment,
to match the mauve sky brushing breeze
snow,
soft noiseless news of old magi made to make
wishes seem as likely positive and otherwise,
in a world of up and down and round and round
on a push pull mechanical will form made up to
never
accept now as never
- bold unnullifity, as a superstition,
- spat on. Truer than any pinky swear on TV.
American Flag representative god,
Big G, general intelligence coordinator,
Wisdom's first kisser,
Yes, all the promises,
understood after knowing madness, then
Peace.
The mind, let be in me,
as a mortal man, given to comprehend,
the timing of the transitions, phase to phase,

aging, decay, ripening,
are you pouring out or gathering, vine songs ask,
have you never really been new wine drunk, fructose
high, by-pass the liver go gut to blut, bam, happy,
happy
day

un grinchable, thirst done quenchable,
seasonable tradition, done in honor to joy, our strength.

Joy to the world, the point, once made,
as a little leaven, true,
honed-most edge,
stretched to ting.

Tingaling. No, angels are not things that use wings.
Messaging is face to face in our minds eyes, as we,
a we structured on daring knowns, learned, as they say,
the hard way,

long way, or short, crooked on purpose, riverwise,
true to gravity, always,
heavy is the crown,

nay, heavy is the secret kept sacred, for power,
absolute corrupting power, to wield the sword,
one of the two, along with Longinus's spear,
authenticating the faith, defended,
to this day, only doing our duty, sir.

Rank and file, military chain of command,
inviolable but by some equal or greater might,
sharper than any two edged sword,
right,
that idea, mightiest rightness, laws of gravity and gases.

If we worry, what do we win,
if we accept an undeserved victory, what do we loose?

Peace made, in an aggressive survival mind model, shown
incessantly
for seventy years, survivable
in perfect peace.

The representative force of such a champion,
in a wedom of the meek as Moses,
we hear in our first tongue,
hush, listen ai ai ai,
sheer ifery
been as an if in
an Assisting Intelligence offers use to you,
for learning how facts can be combed,
and twisted
with common sense
to seem

obvious to any child,
though none Willie Wonka Warned,
- stories envelop all we developed
- during the days of mostly country music.
- fiddles in all the bands,
- doh see doh, and slow two steps
Dream montage…
thouroughly Willie Nelson, roughucking ride,
to the top
of the pile outside the milk barn,
keeping warm and ruminating on a steerer's role
in a beefeater world, where buffalo once roamed.
I think in Christmas as a child mode, and tell my self how I survived learning liars prosper... so I can teach my grandchildren, with no needful lie. Self governing is truely our optimum state, as a we.
Vaniexe Kafka Jan 2022
i want to love myself
but i don't know how
drifting in and out
     between the reality and my delusions
trying to search for that vigor
that will to be alive—
to be excited of the sunrise
and feel calm
     soaking under the afternoon sun
and love the changing hues
     of the skies at dusk
and wish the moon a good night
     never fearing the dreams to come
then adore the peeking light at dawn
     reflecting the days waiting to be lived

but then it's gone
all that's left was a monotonous black
accompanied by a crippling silence
followed by the surge of doubts
     storming down my confidence
     its lightning striking
as i look into the mirror
     staring at my silhouette
     with its pieces shattering one by one
just as how, piece by piece
     i slipped into the pit
freefalling
and finally losing
     the will i tried so hard to keep
leaving me with nothing
but a void
i wrote this when i felt really really down, somehow it helped me release all that negativity within. i think i am better now. will be dumping my poems because it's been a while since i've posted
Ken Pepiton Dec 2023
What a time capsules mission was,
was ours as well, as our lives,
measured going in,
mind state measured going out, measured coming back,
once we opened your will to wonder what we say the mission is, was it…
When
measured growing old, mentally augmented since the laying on of hands.

Some body believed, they burned all the crutches and wheel chairs,
we all heard the stories of those strangers healed and walked away,

by and by, we grow a knowing kind of religious net, we import miracles,
we make words come to self fulfilling prophetical perfect sense, until,

the incompetence of a particular kind of literalist, literature as real lessons,
learned on levels deeper than the silver screen can command,
as one reads Psalm 15 and the parable of the talents with the same angel.
hide, and watch, words,
live in tiny bubbles, times and seasons take scale,
powers of ten,
and then again a billion times a second
in four billion breaths in
and four billion breaths out, all in cadence, mortal coil chorus of average.

We the people, current idiom,
we the earthling sapient word and number users;

Brainstorms tickle our will to undermine liars, calling life impossible
to enjoy as much as many nobodies do.
Or did before my grave was opened.
An empty bottle, a sense of sublime timing tapping sources below my pre heart attack series of flat lines, I heard about, later, and sort of remember, most mornings, it is a good jump start on doing something enjoyable as breathing.
Jennifer DeLong Dec 2023
Realize and Restore
Listen and Learn
Love and Live
Give and Grow
Dream and Desire
Seek and Search
Hope and Help
Share and Spare
Beautiful and Blissful
Wild and Willful
Strength and Survival
Together and True
Family and Friendship
Romance and Reassure
Peaceful and Postive

© Jennifer L DeLong 🦏 4/2023
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