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 Nov 2015 Tahirih Manoo
Gaye
If the world is truth, let us pretend to be insane
If I’m life, set my tongue on fire, let it burn
Because my paintings bleed, my tales flee
And my eyes see no meaning at all.
At impossible desires my heart wake-
Every morn and die with desires at night
The masks are all torn between the streets
And the thread that connect them to deeds.
Remember

Remember what they fought for
Remember why they fell
Remember all the killings
The living life in hell

Remember what they did for us
Remember who they were
Remember all the people
For us did fight and fall

A day to show our pride
A day to bow our heads
A day to mourn our family
Lest we forget
In need to feel
more than mere
words poets press
continue reading...

My Poems here
are a common
red blood bind
horizon heeding
from blank to grey.

Tips are starlit as
the most bold ink-lined
beautiful formation
of space & time.
   Seems
bizzare, un-limited
falsificated classical
old blue ink evaporated
with digital evolution.

 Not aware of its-elf ~ existence
is sinking deep into my
tactile fingerprint cushions
    Once I see guidelines  
there's no hook to be
made out of necessity.
I add and add ad
infinutum and all
I see is Home.
Written by
Impeccable Space
Poetess
~~~~~~
times are changing
each hand, still a bit confused.
cycles abruptly stopped
always cause ripple effects.
the affects, many of us don't feel it yet,
how time changes our minds.
our time…

times are changing
and I lived in the places
where time fought the change.
where the land stays the same
energy waves maintain the flow of the times.
these places are exactly the same.
people just don't worry as much about
time changing.

time is a constant
combined with the questions of now.
answers ride times constant waves
of change.
riding with the ebb of things
creating structure for creations flow.
ebb and flow
times structure.

times are changing within
I no longer question the little girl
she and me are One again.
I see her presence, the potential they set her in.
those spirits of yester years, they saw Me, more clearly
than I did.
my times were structured to prepare me
for time change, so I depended on
outside vision.

those days are of completion, now
I know Me. clearing my time for self
creating the structure to breath.
freedom, is Me and You.

and I, I am Free.
regardless of the defining lines you see,
I flow free, slipping right past the grip.
the grip of ID's … gracefully allowing for
my body to recognize its natural alignment.

times changing, I wait patiently for the return of Spring.
the burst of color and fertile patterns.
the tree blossom knows what I mean,
the return of Spring! The resurrection
of the change of things, change over time.

the Earth provides the stories we retell
over and over again.
like waiting for time to change, again.
barely awakened to its shift, and yet…
evolution takes place.
the story is the Suns shine on the move
the movement of our Star across the sky.
these stories are retold yearly, cyclically,
culturally,
they describe the scribes sight.
illuminate the shadows of now
and of all objects.

time is the forming subject
for LOVES infinite dance of balance.
ebbing to flow towards You. the only direction for me.
when the aliens come down in their spaceship
when they land on earth after their lightyear-long trip
would they see the war? would they see the hate?
would they see the body count? would they see the weight
of our actions when we cause all this pain?
would they take one glance at earth and never come again?
beam me up.
 Nov 2015 Tahirih Manoo
M
tears
 Nov 2015 Tahirih Manoo
M
I don't cry often. I don't.
I cry mostly at weddings and rarely at funerals
I cry at beautiful, touching things
only sometimes at heart-wrenching things
I hardly ever cry. I've cried many times over you.
I'm not sure what category you fit into.
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