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Nat Lipstadt Feb 2014
The Sounding Foam of Primal Things

*(The title and the poem, taken from and inspired by
Carl Sandburg's "Who Am I?")


wind and rain pound the surf.
snow falls on the beach, on the shore.
man-observer cannot tell:
has the earth gone mad, all wet?
do the seas rise, whipped up, filling the heavens,
or does the white rain replenishes the very body,
from whence it came, and now returns?

this matters greatly, yet nothing answers this, his question.

the furious soundings, the green foam churn,
the silence of no response inebriates,
drunk on the tempest's hard wet liquor,
weighed down, sodden with the despair,
solitude, silence, absent answers,
his natural walking companions!

No Stopping signs on almost every corner,
Do Not Pass, Do Not Enter,
One Way, Two Way, No Thru Passage,
but the one sign he seeks,
"Stay On The Path" absent.

Eluded,
dispassionate endings,
the essential quietude among
furious surround-sounds of creative destruction
he ceases to ask, for unanswered, undirected.

Concluded,
either
their is no one listening, or,
there is no one caring, or,

Deluded,
illusion is truth,
he is an illusion.

------------------
Who Am I?
By Carl Sandburg

My head knocks against the stars.
My feet are on the hilltops.
My finger-tips are in the valleys and shores of
     universal life.
Down in the sounding foam of primal things I
     reach my hands and play with pebbles of
     destiny.
I have been to **** and back many times.
I know all about heaven, for I have talked with ***.
I dabble in the blood and guts of the terrible.
I know the passionate seizure of beauty
And the marvelous rebellion of man at all signs
     reading "Keep Off."

My name is Truth and I am the most elusive captive
     in the universe.
By Arcassin Burnham

Stay where my soul is extending while
slowly ascending from the abyss,
Stuck between a rock and a hard place in this
place I wish I won't exist,
Searching for things in this life I can not find,
They leech off my existence,
Committing these sins for the same **** reason,
I don't know if I serve a penance.
Live from the river bank , song from the ocean floor,
People spill the red stream,
Religion kills and revive the life of the others waiting
for a dream,
Serving things that don't serve back, why the ****
Is this an ongoing thing,
Playing off your weakness boy , don't let your blood
fall in the red stream,
Red Stream.
©abpoetry2018

https://arcassin.blogspot.com/2018/10/red-stream.html
Arcassin B Oct 12
by Arcassin Burnham

I hope you use to feel,
I hope you use to feel like I did.
But you never did,
Cause the things that I surpassed were surreal, too vivid.

Sketches and the drawings I would do would look just like you now.
Ripping pages had to do with rage, I couldn’t stop thinking of you now, now.
I just knew that my dreams weren't real when I would dream of you now ,now.
You had better things to do than to be friends with me , but I loved you now, now.

I hope you use to feel,
I hope you use to feel clarity.
But you said need,
Cause the things you use to have then , now you don't need,
Which was my love.
©abpoetry2018

https://arcassin.blogspot.com/2018/10/notebook-lover.html
I wanted to drown the ocean,
seeing that it could never be done.
I wanted a longer tongue,
long enough to taste jazz music
inside my coffee. I wanted to avoid
downfall, but I can't when
everyone around feels like gravity.
I wanted to touch an angel's halo,
but butterfly wings don't travel that far.

I wanted to throw caution
to the wind, but there is
too much canary yellow tape all over me.
I wanted to be loved, but it was stamped return to sender.
alias Oct 9
I'll bury all my secrets in my skin,
come away with innocence
but bleed my truthful sins.
the world around me feels like
a tight cage
and "I love you", is just a camouflage
for your next episode of rage.

If you do love me, let me go
I'll probably run away before I truly know
my heart is too black to care,
is it destroyed if it was never really there?

I'll find my penance, delivered to my true state
if I'm alone I have no one to hate,
but myself.

My love was banished long ago,
if you still care don't ever let me know.

Angels will lie to keep control
making over heaven like some paradise we all want to go
dead trees are painted white
and she calls them beauty, art.

My selfish thoughts colour my life
and I call that my heart.

If I had to fix myself I don't know where I'd start
But I suppose,
I'd cut each limb to the bone
and tear my entire self apart.
inspired partly by ***** by Slipknot. and the insanity that is my life and mind lately.
Lisa Oct 8
Guy-I'm no good for you please stay away!
Did u hear me i said stay away!
I've already did some damage to you
Heart broken people can only break more hearts so please stay away

Girl-Maybe i like the feeling of pain because all i want is you the way u laugh like there's no tommorow the way u hold me as if your holding a new born baby
Robert Oct 6
walking back home
after our last talk
I saw a tree
that was laughing at me
so I punched it
and I punched it
and I punched it again
and then stopped

what have I done

the tree doesn't know
I don't know either
might need to cool off

there's blood on my fist
and the tree must be hurt
I'm sorry my friend
let me give you a hug
we might both need it
if we are to stand up

for now I'll just lay
in the shade of your leaves
until they all fall
and then I'll leave
Just to be clear - I didn't actually punch any trees, though I really wanted to punch something.
April Oct 6
Thank *** for
Little things
Like teacups with
Roses on the rim

For flowers late in
Autumn
When I thought they
All were gone

And the brush of
Fingers over my hand
When I’m feeling sad

It’s the little things
I’m thankful for
The most
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