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Arcassin B Aug 2016
By Arcassin Burnham


#2 pencils for your thoughts,
A minor invite to let the words flow from ones inner chi,
Slipping through the cracks and tears of images and frames that
Makes the mind project the bad memories in paranormal states
Of thinking about dark figures appearing in front of you and
Putting fear and feat inside while your body is paralyzed from
Head to toe in hopes that your soul will not get carried to hell as you
Hear the voices,
Let the ocean and the sun shower over your phases and sins,
Being young is a giving, it's not an accomplishment,
Clicking heels and biting black fingernails,
Be as spiritual as the dawn and the shine on fifty cents,
Young Man , Young Lady,
They are one,

/

Lucy's in the sky with diamonds tonight,
She's looking good,
Sparkles running through the vains of her eyes,
She knows it's just not fair
I miss you just as much as you miss me even though you're
Never there,
Up in the sky.....
I live to die......
a garden grave....
a garden grave.....
There are no slaves in the valley,
It's more important than family,
Some people deal with it commonly,
But also has their own anatomy,
I'm glad I find it so challenging,
But I rely on strateging,
You can't escape from the happenings,
Don't let your heart end up in packaging.
©ABPoetry2016

http://arcassin.blogspot.com/2016/08/young-wonder-3.html
Julia Mae Jul 2016
i want to go lay down in a warm field of grass and not wake up
let my death be surrounded by the flowers and the sun
and the sweet scent of peace which reminds me i still remain here
my spirit says its ready to go, its ready to go home
Hugs, kisses, conventional small talk,
and the little essences of mutual respect
will not bring back the likes of the dead
but it can start the long, slow healing process,
all we can pray for is a little peace in this world
and all we can hope for is a little bit of love....
Sometimes I feel that we move too fast and don't have a chance to cherish the little things like rainbows, sunsets, little picnics and dates, etc, we should just slow down and admire what we have before it's gone....
With practice comes perfection
but no one is perfect, so keep practicing....
What the hell is up with the assassination attempts towards LGBTQ+ community? what did they even do? I mean, why hate someone for being different, why try and **** someone for being gay, or, bi, or transgender? or whatever they associate themselves as? like it just baffles me how much hate and animosity this world has, if someone is different, let them be different, because we all have differences and that what makes us the same, we're human beings and should be treating each other as such, I have friends that are gay, and bi, and I'm a straight guy myself, but you don't see me treating them any different, I respect them and they respect me, at the end of the day, it's all about love, respect and character, when did we turn a blind eye towards those values and morals? it's just crazy the amount of hatred and violence this society will stoop to....
Combat....

though morbid in nature, there is a sense of beauty....

for example -
the bullet and it's chamber
the slickness of steel, and the power of the trigger
which together correlates the symphony of motion
from the time the trigger is pulled, to the
daunting escape of a bullet, and then finally to the ******* of it's victim.....

Quite morbid... yet hauntingly beautiful.....

Then come's the bullets quintessential cohorts

The Chemical and The Armored Car (a Tank)

The brutal barrage of steel cartage
crashing into unstable masonry
then the soothing smog of golden mustard gas...

The echoed shrieks, the violent shakes,
the ****** eyes and mucus filled noses
whose violent episodes finally conclude
when the eyes of death stare back at them...

Quite morbid.... yet hauntingly beautiful....

The finally... how can we forget the noble foot soldier?
his footsteps, silent to the earth....

out of the hysteria and chaos
two men, two weapons, and a whirlwind of emotion  
nationalistic pride, paranoid fear, and  scattered  tranquility...

A sign, as is to say....
"I don't want to fight, but I have to..."

Which all correlates in the ****** of the bayonet
a twinkle of blood, and then finally the gentle weeps...

Quite morbid.... yet hauntingly beautiful....
Brian Goosen May 2016
"Under the tree sat Buddha, meditating with his fear.
He grew to understand how to face Mara, less his habitual red ears.

The red ears of resentment,
The red ears from fright,
The red ears that pushed him from tranquility to fight or flight.

A similar story comes to mind,
One I know all too well.

The story of mine is a tale to tell,
As long as judgements forever set sail.

Leaving the moment for the past, I see a hateful boy.
Distant from the world around me, so confused & annoyed.

Transformed from my façade of impersonation, to the feeling of being lost.
Stemming from the monotonous & everlasting worriment in thought.

From mediation I understand, what red ears did to me.
The red ears transformed my thought process,
Into someone I'd grow to see.

From growth came lessons, and new habits from within.
To sit with perceived problems patiently takes courage & a half Buddha grin.

A smile to acknowledge,
An acknowledgment of growth.
For the one I was to who I've become had to happen, as if renewal were a must.

The change was essential, & shall stand the test of time,
from the old wondering & circumventing rollercoaster thought ride.

The form of wonder we know all too well, that steals us from here & now.
I wish we could all learn how to live presently & apart from the modern crowd.

Tranquility was foreign to me, however the possession of is a must.
A must that changes a boy to man, which should happen before skin to dust.

While undergoing transformation, a man will come to see,
That who he wanted to be is he, while listening under the tree.

As I sit back to reflect, I can now understand.
I understand how the test of time transformed me from boy to man."
The Enlightened One's tale retold in comparison to the changes I've underwent through practicing meditation.
The fabrics of your mind,
unstitched by the scalpels of a carious tongue....
Adrian Newman May 2016
When he speaks, the rain falls
When he looks, he sees me
When he kisses, it feels like a bird on the wing.

When he hears, he listens closely
When he touches, it's fire and ice
When he walks, his feet are steady and sure.

When I see him, I'll find him
When I feel his hand grasp my own
When I feel his shoulder pressed to mine;

When I dream, he'll follow me
When he sleeps, I'll watch over him
When I kiss him, I won't let him go easily.

When his heart beats, I'll feel it
When he loves me, I'll know it
When he's silent, he's thinking of me.

When he's strong, he'll carry me
When I'm weak, he'll tolerate me
When the world hates us, let them hate us.

When I hear his voice, I'll respond
When he's sad, he'll be close to me
When we're together, we'll be happy.
This is a description of my ideal man: I haven't mentioned appearance because it doesn't matter that much (especially if he's trans), if I like him then I like him <3
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