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As a monotheist
Supernatural events
Were easily explained
Good = miraculous = God
Bad = devilish = Lucy


As an atheist,
Supernatural events
Did not happen


As a polytheist
Supernatural events
Do happen
But with
shamamama Jun 6
really!  Yes.  
I'm tired.
I'm sore.  
I don't want to.
Show up.
Be present,
do your best,
wake up,
life moves
through you
in the most
I wrote this poem to bring positive attitude around daily practice.My special needs son has a daily 1+ movement practice to help him develop his brain and to become masterful in his life.I have a strong commitment to help him with this neurological reprogramming.
Anastasia Jun 6
in waking nightmare
she screams while awake

the color
of her eyes
bleeds out
with her tears
short poem for an assignment in school
~for Cathy Leff, curator~

no bugler blaring ‘pay attention’ to me,
no emergent bad news bearish telephone cell call of an absurd tonal,
no alarm clock retaliating agin a humans daily defying double-slap,
no young children sneaking in, with a guard dog in accompaniment,
   joy-ending a deep parental sleep from the exhaustion they induced

but as if shot, the humans burst into alertness,
from prone to moan, they instantly revert, becoming **** Erectus,
gasping from shock troop dreams, and a chest-pounding message,
a whisper growing, an ever increasing crescendo, an unnatural law,

an unsullied foot-stomping battle cry that self-terrorizes, undeniable:

write me, your poem, write me now!

ah, it must be 5:00 am...
Maria Etre May 30
She glowed
with a hue
the day
she knew
she had
Casey May 23
I had a dream that I lost you.

The ground below had shattered and fallen, leaving you over an endless void.
White knuckles from clenching the railing,
you were barely holding on.

I was on the other side of this railing, safe on a sturdy platform.
You looked up at me with wild eyes, beads of sweat trickling down your face.
I outstretched my hand.

A hoarse whisper, from chapped lips, "You don't have to do this,"
I wasn't sure why I had said that.
After all, this situation hadn't been your choice.

Still, you clung there, unmoving. Just....staring.
I took matters into my own hands, and leaned over the railing,
grabbed you by the wrists in an iron manacle grip.

And then the flood came.

A torrent of rushing water broke through the chasm
as if a dam had broken wide open.
The raging currents roared their threats at us.

Your fear quickly turned to sudden confidence,
a grim smirk spread across your face.
Ripping away from my grip.

And before I could blink
You hurled yourself into the depths
Blood-curling, piercing screams.

Pinching my arms,
I can't wake up.

It wasn't a dream that I lost you.

Or did I dream of losing me?
Maria Etre May 21
I suddenly awoke from hypnosis
my eyes no longer dilate
at your sight
but my
mind expands when my thoughts
sneak out to dance with the idea of you
in the middle of the night on a white sheet
with ***** lead shoes writing the story of
what my heart wanted, my mind thought
and poetry yearned for
Wake me up
At the cracks of dawn
Because you had
A nightmare

Wake me up
In the middle of the night
Because you need a hug
And you want some cuddles

Wake me up
When I'm not asleep
From the daily nightmare
That's called me

Wake me up
When you're thirsty
And need someone to walk you down the stairs
Because you're scared alone in the dark

Wake me up
Whenever you need me
4 AM, 6 PM
I'll always be there

Wake me up
And make me
Stand up with tangles in my hair
To dance with you at midnight

Wake me up
Before you leave to work
So I can wake up next to you
Like we've always wanted

Wake me up
To make love
I wish you would want me
To be your passion
Will you ever?
elle jaxsun Apr 8
20 years ago

you're perfect to me.
if you hurt me I know it's
because i was bad.

10 years ago

i'm waking up now.
my friends parents don't do this.
dad, i'm so sorry.

4 years ago

it's not all your fault.
i know it's a cycle,
and i will break it.
NaPoWriMo day 5 - 040519
evita Apr 21
we are gathered here today
for a dry-eyed affair.

there is no need for candles—
phones light up this room.

peanuts and candy wrappers
are scattered on the floor,

and the gaudy matrons
glint and gossip in the pews.

let the adults brag
about scholarships and diplomas,

let the relatives unearth
tension and deception

while the dead lies
surrounded by white flowers.

is there even room for mourning
when we are all so busy talking?
just got back from a week-long writing workshop in the mountains. today is the last day of my aunt's wake. the heat in the province is unbearable.
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