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 Jan 2017 traces of being
Sjr1000
I've got many things
on my mind
I might as well
talk to you.

I'm twisted
I'm disturbed
I'm vice ridden
I'm desperate too.

You look okay
I might as well
talk to you.

My life has been spent in shadows
trying to emerge
I've swept the floor
washed the windows
did the dishes too
I guess that is what they call this life.

I've seen the tunnel on one too many codeine
Grandma sent me away

I've gone astray
I blew up my future
behind *******
My children say
I gambled it all away.

One mellows in their old age
No time for anger
No time for drama too.

I've learned to accept myself
Accept you

That testerone
it blows up
it calms down

Sleep it goes way too fast
I wake up to another day.

I've rubbed myself raw
I know what it means to be deranged
I know what it means to long for it too.

You understand.
Don't nod off now
I'm coming to the most interesting part

But I woke up
in another horizon
Woke up on another plain
Another dimension has called my name
This life I now savor.

As you have said
I know it is predictable moves
A complicated game
I never learned to play.

Another opportunity
to prove I'm never
what I'm supposed to be.

I've done the best I could
with what I've got
With that I am at peace

I apologize for everything
I have ever been,
But I am alive
I'm still breathing
have another day to
prove it all again

I've got things on my mind
I might as well talk to you.
I know this a little bleak,
But truly Happy New Year
to our Hello Poetry community.
Finally . . .
I sit in the midst of silence . . .
and silence resides in the midst
of me

I strain to hear
the nothingness . . .
and it comes over
so clear

All promises lay asleep
in their coffins . . .
covered in stone and time

This empty blackness
comes complete . . . stealing whatever sanity there is left in me

Here in my equilibrium there
are no days or weeks . . . just the certainly that no one speaks

Come hungry darkness . . .never to be satisfied . . . for you swallow eternity
still there is nothing inside

The indifference of silence
bends over to kiss me . . .
cold blackened lips whispering
"There is no certainty."
listed, not       short

listed, nor win prizes.



not often    published,

i do not submit.   not

until the    resolution,



a few days .



calendar days, some

remember.



the process has importance.

move the dots.



sbm.
 Jan 2017 traces of being
ryn
Dancer
 Jan 2017 traces of being
ryn
The box remained shut.
His fingers probe but with invisible eyes.
Finding the clasp that had forgotten the last time.
With the lid pried open,
the dancer would soon arise.

•••••

As expected, she rose...
Accompanied by a tune, truly a haunting sound.
She slid and pirouetted.
She fulfilled the promise to which she was bound.

Her routine was well rehearsed.
She embodied the music, as it carried her.
It mattered not if it was for a single audience.
She cared not if there was no other.

She performed like she might never again,
she inhaled the moment like it was her last.
She sung the song silent like she always would,
she embraced her dance like sail unto mast.

Then the melody slowed,
as the tension in the spring
played itself unwound.
This day for her, had drawn to a close...
But renewed hope for a new one is found.

•••••

He hesitated before resting the lid upon its case.
He caressed his dancer as his eyes start to smart.
His ears would yearn for the song in his head...
He would surely miss the dancer in his heart.

But he knows
when days grow dark
and filled with strife.
The music box lies ready...
And his dancer will again
come to life.
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