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In life you have to
know your own self to truly
enjoy everyday

Because your life is
precious just like big oceans
and golden beaches

Everyday they wave
Everyday they shift tension
Just to feel that calm

Peace than blossoms
And happiness smiles wildly
Both face cheeks lift up

Thats when you let go
And everything looks pretty
And love becomes real

It's in the trees and
flowers and animals and
the great big blue sky

It's in family
Love ones and pets and the warm
amazing sunshine

It's in the full moon
And all the twinkling stars
Its in darkness too

It's in soft snowflakes
When they touch earths precious ground
They kiss it gently

It's in a window
Looking out from the inside
Mother Nature rules

It in a child's
laughter and your true loves hug
It's in flying birds

It's even in a
cinema night eating sweet
popcorn and sweeties

See when you let go
You learn to love a lot more
And your life begins
I just think that love is in many many things x
:::::::

Birthdays are over and done,
october skies have moved on,
and brought us late november winds
we close our eyes to our unwanted truths
but....when we wake up, they're still there
they're too lazy to scamper away from us

so, we paint our minds with positive  occurrences
regardless of how people and circumstances
burst our balloons,
and bring down our festoons
some people make our spirits soar
...they make our days less dour
we wish to spend time with them
we would do, give anything on any term
just to experience moments with them,
:::::
even just for a thanksgiving night,
:::::
forget for a while our collapsed goals
.............which have turned to debacles
for, their fruition have become impossible
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
in our hearts, these dreams hide.
...they live on in our mind,
until God knows when...
it makes me think,
"time is always behind me
like......a shadow, warning me.."
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
so tonight,
after stuffed turkey, cranberry sauce and wine
and veggies, and coffee and apple pie,
i'd go out for a while, wear a thick sweater
and find the moon
full or crescent, it won't matter
if it doesn't show up...the stars would be there
i'll sing my song.....and start my dance
til i can no longer put up with the cold
and i will have to seek warmth inside.

Sally

Copyright November 23, 2017
rrab
Wrote this while listening to
Van Morrison's MOONDANCE.
They say,  when the wicked rule the earth will mourn

I heard that a time or two

They put you in charge of watching me
But who is watching you

Like a judge, the fate of so many waits in your hands

The utensil in your arsenal are daggers to those around

Poisonous arrows in the body's that are found
    
Mercenaries with degrees.
Your spilling the beans

Friends secrets are the next  prostitution ring

Bankrupt in morals your cruelty never ends

Cold and calculating  to gain the upper hand

Do you expect us to treat you like Caesar

Because you wiled the power

Treat you with false respect , throw you lot's of flowers

I will say this again with no respect due

They put you in charge of watching me
But who is watching you
How can you tell a         burdened heart no?

How can you you tell someone you

love to let go?

How can you deny a person

that part of you that they long for ?

How can you not be viewed as a

monster ! When he won't let go!

     How can I spend so may days of

my life

trying to fix that which was broken

For every tear that fell, it was full of

sorrow

and the sobs were just a token

Allow me to hold out my hand to cup

your face

Allow me to wipe your tears with my hair

Allow me to kiss your cheek and hold

you close

so I can remember some semblance

of love there

You asked me if I even feel

Behind those cold calculating eyes

you had the right to accuse me

of being cold as steel

I can not love you the way you need me too

That's why I'm letting go

to hold you captive in this relationship

I can not endure  that no more    
 
Am I strong enough to accept the blame

of us not working out

am I strong enough to face you

without displaying doubt

Everything that we work so hard for

is now in the Wind 

I never was who you thought I was

your homie your lover or friend.
This is my, it's not you be me.
So I felt light I needed to lighten up little bit, so I hope you enjoy part two appropriately titled it's not you but me.
See me, not the car I
drive

See me, not the purse that's attached to my wrist

See me, not my shoes

See me, not how I choose to were my hair

See me, and not my shape

See me, and not my ****** orientation

See me, not my color

See me, and please stop judging

see me, and listen to me

See me, and love me

Take away the job, all the bells, and whistles, and accolades

An see me

Because if you don't you may be disappointed

See me
This is an attempt to meliorate this poem. Basically it was a funny PSA to look past the superficial and get to know that person. Because first  impressions can be wrong sometimes,  I wasn't talking about me per say.  I have pensively read and re read the poem. I am sorry if it came out arrogant, or haute.
I don't want to die.
I'm afraid of the unknown.
Just like I'm afraid of you leaving.
When will it happen? It is unknown.
I want to escape, like the coward I am.
I could drug myself into oblivion, or scream myself a mile ahead the act...
Why is rejection so scary?
It's not even a reality, yet.
I dream of being anything other than human, just so I can avoid the act of suicide.
Love is a hard drug.
It leaves me strung out,
with it's ups and downs.
Exhausted, but still wanting more.
It makes me laugh,
makes me cry.
It has me hazy, dazy
and I'll make poor choices.
You're like ******...
I want you inside me even if it hurts.
I'll give you my home, my money,
all my time.
I'll do anything for love.
I'll get naked and give my all.
I'm addicted to your love.
Everyone is better off without me.
Oh, it's actually true, though.
The ratio of how I make people miserable versus happy is waaaay more on the miserable spectrum.
So, if people would stop being bias and **** after someone is dead...
They would know my imminent death is for the best.
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