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Kenshō Nov 26
Twenty thousand steps
winding to the left.
'Cause right was wrong
and wrong was right.
At the end of the road
there was nothing left
so I bent a right.
I love you so much,
but share a night,
          alone;
Something I know so well,
Better than I know you.
But, I worry you've not known
'cause I've gone and well-
I'm worried the message
I've written won't tell.
I'm tired of 'the' shell-
So, I break boundaries and yell.
A life you didn't make
but a life you are willing to take?

no rules-no mistakes

no words
Just Motions
no mind
no world
Just Devotion
somewhere
somehow
Odd(old) Notions
something
sometimes
Magick Potions
no tide
no wave
Just Ocean
nobody
no soul
Just Emotions
no face
no image
God is Remoting


Thrice fold bent,
    one arrow gleaming-
from which we are sent
    all is one
          or at least seeming.
God must be asleep,
          yes, dreaming.
Side road tent,
    plastic tarp teeming-
Come one come all!
    Torii gate beaming~
Some rise some fall,
    Krishna consciousness streaming-
Ten Thousand beings enthralled,
    now just for the meaning...

I'm going under cover
where all vibration is a hum.
And where I tend to hover,
I lose track of where Im from;
Or what direction I'm going,
But, I am indeed in contact~
With something in the sky, glowing.
Accept that as a fact.
They are speaking to me,
teaching me to attract.
It only takes a whisper
for my tongues to get flowing;
And, I start to look crisper~
Upon the world as an artifact
Of art and unknowing.
All 4 parts in succession
Robin Carretti May 2018
No time for having

withdrawals_
All friendship
click
Lets 
 Click-bank it

Gratitude
so thanks

Just mail it
My mind
chocolate
clustered
Wounded
like a
bullet
_

Postcard
Like
E- Allen Poe
related

Polluted by
Naked Gun
My heart was
fully loaded

"My Psyche"

Glossinidae so
****** "Red"

Women Wartime
she knits

Wildflowers
in her bed
He was more
worried
about the
postcard

Split Banana
personality
Plain Monkey
***
Crazy on Sunday

Sundae's
on Fridays
Yes we have no
bananas
Postcards laid
T-L-C cared for
cabana

But Gina
Loco?
Crazy bridge
Lollobrigida
Postcards
Just
Like Lazy
Susans
Georgiana
Or Brianna
Bella Bella

Leaving notes
with few
good men
Nicholsons
Nicole with
her Kidman

Construction
hard paper
Snip here
Pulled into his
psyche
All cliche's
The fondue
French talk
face to face
Jack snapped
beanstalk

In front, words
fingered
Her words
of roue'
Catch up with
Ketchup
Pretty but Petty
petticoats
"Billy Goats"
Titanic ships
Beguiled
by
him

Cottage home
bacon bits
of
Salad postcards
from
Egypt
The holy land of
Mohammid
Dancing like an
Egyptian

Rumi
of all
Gods
in vain
Your so
vain I betcha
you think
the
postcards
about ya

"Psyche Monday"
Coming to grips
(Girl Friday)
versus
(Man Friday)
with his lips,

The Postcard
postpartum
depression
((What Moves))
on my hips
Strawberry
jam and
my biscuit
"His Girl Scout"
recruit
Being pursued
shortcake
So ironed
longed for

Postcards
floating
through
"Spa dream"

Highlighted
*
Crazy in love
hallucinating
being flirtatious

Oneself
But she doubted
therefore
My psyche
wanted more
(Danger=Hunger)
after you
Darling
Civil war
Loves don't finally
meet someone
They are in each other
all the time-----

Double crossed-Star

Trying to pass the bar

Fair lady or the
distinguished
Gentleman

"Aircraft"
Postcards came with
ownership
Bombs stay funds

So Psyche
The future
Be smart
"Smartphone"
Like a rope and
silvered computer
links
The chain- chain gang

The train blue-skying
Crazy skywriting
A strange device
(UFO) now BOO
requiem in a dream
Royal lips
A plus postcard
Deeply within
The hundred's
of lovers tongue
Going once but twice,
The Postman stamps
psychic
"Auction house
My postcard
Peanuts and
Charmed by Charlie
Brown
The Tarot elephant
pants
Double talk Parrot
Superbowl
the postcard
intellectual

"Hallucination Beware"
Strong accusation to
compare

An app "Activation"
Star Wars  may the force
be with you one and
only card
British fine tea guards

The love red tip
matches
The new
postcard
the
new black
Mary Mack
Stamped and
smacked
Smashbox eyes
like crazy lunatic

(Dora Explorer)
New Orleans
Nasty stickers
Richness of bourbon
Sweet Caroline
Graphic art turban
8 sides
of the moon

Such
consequences?

My hair
ponytailed
You mailed
words short
Styled pixieish

Dots.....crazy points

Oh! Gosh
The
Hoarder
of
postcards
Crazy Gorilla
Mozilla
"Queen of Sheba"
I rather walk my
Shiba Inu doggy

Miss baby jane shoes
French connection my
La Femme
Oh La La
Haha
Funnybone
I refuse to be
loved like
a postcard
Self-assurance
love is frozen
and stamina
Postcards back
in the future

((Wonder all drama))
Psyche ward she got
hammered
Stacks of postcard
Her wrist got cut
Cold cuts
Irish Spring soap
VIP Postcards RIP
Replacing her hip
Her crazy lips kissed
the postcard
her bodyguard
Those maneaters
and deadly hitters
Mega babes babysitters
To be so loved and read

Postcards speak to us
listen
Glisten
Crazy Bitch__ is in
The innie or outy
Paper towels Minny
Mouse
She cleans up
her postcards
When the postman rings
twice

Pass it on

Has it troubled you
papercut you
Was this postcard
meeting
your  card
expectation

All you?
Postcards are so nice when they get delivered but when they come to your mailbox that's another postcard. The postman becomes crazy twice so out of wack Psyched
Winter Reverie Aug 2016
Like falling stars
I watch my wishes dance along the skyline
And like post cards.
I address each one to you
Kate Lion Jun 2015
Come home, darling
Hop into your Jeep
And pray my soul to keep
I tire waiting day after day
But I will send you postcards
To keep you company.
AllAtOnce May 2015
He walks up to her
I can feel the beating of her heart
As he walks away I hand her a postcard
One that says he will tear her apart
He smiles and bats his eyes at her
She laughs as she hands him her phone
As he walks away I hand her a postcard
And it says that one day he'll laugh with her and one day he won't
He tells her a story characterized by the lights in his eyes
She is completely lost in his being
As he walks away I hand her a postcard
Saying that he isn't worth all of her feelings
And as he turns a blind eye to her
But she's still in love with him, though
I'll hand her a postcard
One that says I told you so
Someone just needs to follow him around and warn us all that somehow, to some degree, he will break our hearts.
tl b May 2014
3.12

For no one particular,

I can only assume that you feel like love. Rather, your
fleece under my palms, like soft summer sand, burns.
But I love that and therefore must love you.
There’s anger running off my tongue, too cold. It’s
March, and I am not a fan of this, of you.


3.21

Went for a run on a projected-to-be beautiful day,

The sky rained angry. Though the hail did not last long,
it only seemed to pelt my face when I thought of you. Even the
sky pushes me forward. The flowers you gave me last week have died.

I didn’t even forget to water them.


4.8

To the one I now love less,

Admiring many new beards passing through
the line at the coffee shop this morning. From here,
even squinting, none of them resemble you. This
is satisfying. One orders an extra shot of espresso. Strong. I
think I have moved on.


4.9

A guy in line,

Your sport coat and sling bag hold you together well.
Elegant glue I do not often find around this part of town.
I am window-shopping. I haven’t worked in a week,
and even then I couldn’t afford you.

4.16

Eavesdropping,

I ordered an Earl Grey.
“It’s no big deal,” the barista said in some northern dialect.
I don’t belong in this conversation, but at least I am listening.
That’s what you wanted, right? Earl Grey. No big deal. Bite marks
on my tongue grow deeper still.
This was an exercise given to me by my professor this past semester. We were instructed to write poems in the form of postcards. My interest adhered to this exercise/form immediately and I enjoyed how this selection turned out. The dates are approximates, but that does not matter. They are all true occurrences in their own ways. They are all based off of a time after a real break-up. And yes, I am over him. So if you -- you know who you are -- stumble across this: yes, it's true.
Martin Narrod Apr 2014
Maybe you're the colosseum. The code to get through the glass doors is actually just '1954'. You could put up the painting of me at auction, or I could take a cruise from London to the Islands North of Siberia, a stop in a department store in Northern Greece. I stop and take a ride in the middle front-third seat of a older friend's younger brother's car, and force all of them to come outside and see the spider's eggs at Bob-o-Link. Massive cornucopias of cotton walls entwined with silk.

In the department store I ask to be introduced to someone who can take me by the hand and recognize me by my number, show me everything I'll need to shoot a full-length feature, even how I can get to Prague so I can do a little shopping. But the horror of seeing is so frightening, and the girl that I came with wants to do nothing.

I find a little shop selling Czech candies, music, and newspapers, so I try to buy everything but the horror is getting closer. I'm in a lazy Susan, how often does that happen? One more turn and I'll lose my stomach contents and then I won't need anything.

I take a climb up a street that says "Smrzlinu Ahead," but the houses on the street are all either empty or boarded up. I drift in the soccer field, watching my legs, looking over my shoulder. I fall for a pile of clothes that can hide me but are also very soft to lay in.

Another cruise- tropical, perhaps? Somewhere for coy adults, who shed their skin in Winter when their eyes start molting off. Someday I will place both hands into the ocean, I'll dream huge, and go swimming until I start to laugh. One day I'll sink to the floor of the bourn, maybe the same day I wake up and I'm not swimming alone.

— The End —