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neth jones Mar 2018
a grazing of substance ;
I practice a new vulnerability
Rebecca Sue Apr 2018
I sit here eating a bagel.
Wondering how many calories are in cream cheese.
My eyes are 360 on this pedestal surrounded by books and humanity.
I see a man pick up a bible
He seems lost in his contemplating
Does he believe?
Will he believe?
It doesn't matter to me.
I'm happy with this bagel.
I'm satisfied by simplicity.
AJ Simmons Mar 2018
This cloudy morn of murk,
Where on my tongue I taste dirt,
I should wallow in grey plumes, sir,
But I glide by this dank flirt,

On lady nature lay cobbled stone,
Without shoes we’d feel at home,
But this spring one looks to be known,
In diamond vestments is how we ‘grow’,

As my glide comes to a stop,
And I lay rest in this earthy shop,
Sipping elixirs of generations crops,
I breath I taste tip top,

Chakra advocate with stature,
I see you too truth catcher,
Without shoes, tongue out plan hatcher,
The dew fills your pallet, oh catch her.
Coffee does funny things.
Graff1980 Mar 2018
Frequently,
I watch people
who try
consciously
or
unconsciously
to become
copies
of others.

They pursue
the same goals,
settle in
the same
lifestyle,
and
measure themselves
with the same ruler,
never realizing
they are so much more
than the cog
they behave like.
Luke Mar 2018
Black coat and silver eyes,
what dances within,
you know but keep quiet,
your coat dances on wind.

Paws so silent,
no tracks left behind,
are you a ghost,
why must you hide?

The answer became clear,
upon the twilight,
you raised your head,
pulled back.

Releasing your jaw,
shoulders relaxed,
you let out a cry,
no reply came or followed.

The sound was mournful,
could it be that,
you are alone here,
in this world we call home?

Crackling twigs underfoot,
burrs caught in your coat,
fire and pain in your eyes,
what do you hide?

You want to fit in,
you seek only companionship,
but always you leave,
never have you stayed.

In the dead of night,
once again,
I hear you cry.
Purcy Flaherty Mar 2018
Are we capable of making sensible choices?
when our own logic is generated from organic matter; a brain heavily influenced; fueled on random flashes, hormones, pheromones, testosterone, diet, desire, the air we breath, the need to ***, or a simple cup of tea; all of which alters our body ~ ((Our chemical bag)); a fragile echo system constantly at odds with other elements.

Our fuel, our input influences the way we think, Yet our ego tells us that we are in control; and that we makes our own choices.

Put your hands on your hearts people! and tell me how many sensible choices have we acutely made!

I'm personally content that some seemingly bad choices have turned out quite nice!
Dedicated to Zoe
A A Feb 2018
Sadness and euphoria.
They are bitter truths that go together,
Like zealotry and bigotry,
Or monogamy and deceit.
Sadness and euphoria: sadness the shell, euphoria the oyster.
'Tis damp, cold and lonely - not much bigger than a closet
But the little room within me is mine.
It has no niceties such as an address but
To one side – when pressed upon hard enough –
The walls open revealing the many hidden chambers inside.
But the walls have no doors and until now no one has ever
Stayed long enough to find out the secrets hidden inside.

Then here you come along – you who has scarcely warmed
Yourself against these thoughts when I feel that look.
You spin around and around in the small wit that I am -
With the most perplexing look I have ever seen.
With words I press upon you to sit here within my thoughts
But the case of your look is the case all by itself.
All I can feel is your resentment for bringing you in here.

My hard planked thoughts and plastered breaths are not
Favorable - even to my own sensations – as if I am trapped
In some sort of desolate, silly omnipotence –
But I dare not mention my little hidden room within.
Though not a thing is left to be wished there is nothing
As terrible in it as the knowledge that you think I am possibly
Absent of the capacity to supply you with your inner most basic needs.

The glow of health and happiness somehow leaves your cheeks
And your brisk lively conversation seems forever removed.
Like a stone in the road, I seem to bring you
More distress and I wonder what stupidity had led me
To bring you here to fumble around in my mind.
As if we are both too delicate to communicate -
Our tangled tongues and fingers say not a word.

I want to say,
“Please, please press harder against these walls
And you’ll see, you’ll see that the muscle and tendon
That covers these internal walls are
Just a parody for my own protection.''
I feel the mistake of moving this thought closer to you now.
At first you squirm to get further away from it
But in doing so you struggle and push against the thought.
But herein - a single thought falls from my mind.

I watch as you ****** it up an unfold it and
Proceed to open my imagination to this wrinkle entitled
“The Little Room Within.''
I watch you as you read peering through my facade.
You proceed to pull out another wrinkle
Then another - and another
Until the room within me is no more.
We enter deeper and deeper inside of each other
Like children on our hands and knees –

– And I –

I
follow
you
all
the
way
to
the
inside
of
me......
Here I'm trying to express something inexpressible. That separation of body and spirit depicted here as the little room within.
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