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CK Baker Jan 2017
.   .   .   .   .   .   .   .  .
~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  

what about the gull
                          with a wayward splash
or the balanced blend
of cirrus and ash

foghorns throw
the pock wave
sewell stragglers
and bonny boats
earn their keep
Lily Nov 2018
Desire
Balanced
On the edge
Of a blade

A well dressed man
*******
An untethered label

A bottle for two
At an uncleared table.

A twist
Of the wrist
To the pouring
Of wine

To dripping lips,
and kissing
between sips.

His hands
to my hips

His tie
To my wrists.

His kiss.
Antino Art Sep 2018
Who draws strength
from watching the passage of time
after dark
blur against the windows
of a moving train bound
for ends uncertain.

Who walks most balanced
on the beams of empty tracks.

In the shuffle of strangers
at a crosswalk, who finds
direction.

Who sees
clearer through rain.

Who finds their place
in the limbo of airport terminals,
on delayed flights
between chapters,
over open roads that branch
into tales of cities unseen,
in the turn of pages unwritten.

Who can keep track of time
during the improvised chaos of jazz,
catching notes scattered
in the winds of horns.

Who understands
that wind moves
fastest through dark places like tunnels,
during storms in late August.

Who finds their center
hurled in flight,
always coming and going.
Storm flight trains movement
The Second Daniel, thought to overcome
Four more Visions conjured out of his Wand
Without reply does he renounce his Sum,
Later added Better Digits on hand
Mindly notice how this Social Train plays
Slowly taking Commuters off the Tracks
Which this Conductor sadly he displays
And the Tickets he hoped he would get back
You were not the First. This I can assure
But Sincerity a Note only you choose
This Soul, called Will, independent from cure
Balanced on Scales gives your Career a Boost.
If Reason be Creed, then Failure is Heart
Sir, not all Jewels you can just Compart.
#tomdaleytv #tomdaley1994
lifeonLSD Oct 2018
— - —
Call it magic if you may
the sun, the moon’s pray

Constantly chasing each other
day after night, night after day

Such a perfect contradiction they make

Putting together the right ingredients
to complement each coloured ray

When one were to fall the other
would silently rise, filling its place

With every small step they take,
synchronicity follows without ever
missing a beat

So on they move

Completely balanced,
without anybody taking the lead

In the beauty they unfold upon us
this has to be
one of the most wondrous spectacles
if you ask me

Words are unable to measure
by any means their lightning show
how they glow with a radiance
that highlights their power and control

Or how they never let
each other down
Or stand in each other’s sway

No envy I feel
nor does appreciate is able to say

The truths about their nature,
always ready to unveil
hidden in every passage lay
the constant sacrifices they have made

The forces that pulls
each other so close
the same it pushes away, too

If one steps out of place,
all falls out of space and will be let loose

With lightyears of travelling
they unified their bond but are still
bound to live in separation

I admire you,
from a far

An admiration so magnificent
it cannot be free
One of the most magical things
enabling us to see

Right on time
as ever so soon

The dance
between the sun and the moon.
— - —
a mere spectator
L B Oct 2017
Andi Balise combined a half page of a short story, “Thanks Going Without Saying” by Liz Balise, with half a page of an essay by Klee, “On Modern Art”, from a book called Modern Artists on Art, 10 Unabridged Essays, edited by Robert L. Herbert. With some small edits and line-breaks comes this miracle of a poem:

Painting a Function Different

I peek out over the railing of reality’s magic
Beyond the porch-floor
Minerva hangs her wash
making the invisible visible
Eighty two and three quarters deaf
she doesn’t notice  
But this is, in fact, reality
Has always been this way—
Bent and bird-like existence  
Balanced on two twigs—always busy—

Her task, is the ******* of space  
Cutting coupons, crushing aluminum cans, ironing
The three phenomena which I must....

Things no one notices—
climbing on the abstract surface of a picture
Switching the curtains  
God! I wish from the infinity of space..she wouldn’t…!

It figures that—
Rusty, her cat, is weaving in fortune or misfortune  
I try to fix them—
Her ankles now
And she curses at accidental quality
from the corner of her mouth
which has only one form
Clothespin or cigarette?  
Long johns and animals and men in heaven
and bureau scarf and sheets—all, non-infinite deities
surround us translucent, contained
  
I decide what to get for her birthday—

We are good friends
through painting a function different

For me?
Predestined necessity.

Minerva?
forgets her manners
and eats like a survivor—

Thanks going without saying.
Thank you to my friend, Minerva for those years we shared living by the river.  And thanks, to my daughter, Andi, for seeing this poem in an academic assignment.

Art is what it is, imploring us to touch its experience.... It asks no approval.  It seldom gives reasons.
gleck Feb 5
The pleasant lingering smell of rose hips,
feels almost healing,
as we tread through the garden -
together barefoot and vulnerable.

I won’t shy away from the prickly green grass,
then in the same way,
let me tickle you with my stubble as we laugh -
together joyful and crude.

One has to be careful not to lose themselves completely
to rub your intricate fingerprint away into another's skin in patterns,
because although the body feels heavy when weak kneed -
the weight of another’s soul is too much to bear alongside your own.

I won’t hold your head underwater in the fresh lake
then in the same way,
let me breathe when we lay by its side -
together entangled and safe.

The passing time made you my involuntary complex,
feels nearly daunting
as I adore this so shamelessly -
us together - balanced and in love.
Fred Wakefield Oct 2012
Joints stiff, torso still,
Fingers bent, little will.
Rods strengthen my legs
Keeping me balanced.
I am totally hairless,
Eyebrows painted on.
Stuck in this body
No movement is my own.
I was created this size,
I’ve never grown.
To move I am aided
With callous roughness.
Dressed by others
Who couldn’t care less.
“Don’t look at me like that!”
This dress and hat I did not pick,
I cannot help my stance
And yet you stare
Without embarrassment.
And when naked
In the bright spotlight,
It does not deter you.
Some point,
Some laugh,
I get your looks,
But not your love.
It’s not easy
Being a shop mannequin.
Elena Jan 3
Inner peace and prosperity
must be free,
to bear true born fruits
of a balanced tree.
Introducing Picasso and Nunez aka ANu Picasso a pair of L.A. poets and painters coming to a gallery near you.  

Our first big gig will be at the Nuetra Gallery and Museum on Glendale Blvd. in Silver Lake coming up in September.

Come check out East and West Balanced, it will surely be an art show you'll always remember.  

Curated and coordinated by the one and only, Dulce Stein, Dulcepalloza 2018 guarantees a good time.

Just another ditty on who we are, this is a poem my partner Picasso put out:

BALANCED

He is the torch
I am the white
He is the dark
I am the light
We don't impress
   to be blessed.
We're blessed
   to impress
Hate us or love us
But don't love to hate us
We're the Ying and
the Yang of this Earth
Both with the
same day of birth
He is the east
and I am the west
But together we're
simply the best.
You are all cordially invited to the Neutra Museum and Gallery in Silver Lake, CA for our first big show at Dulcepalloza 2018.
Exact dates will be posted in subsequent poem.  Follow or stay tuned for details
Here again, behind closed eyes
Balanced on this fragile threshold
One
Enjoying the moment before it’s over
As morning melts the locks
Two
Tenderly tracing unseen features
Kneading you from dreams and memories
Three
Feeling the meter of your sleeping heartbeat
Synchronizing as we breathe
Four
Folding you closer, moored in your warmth
Pressing your blessed scent against my chest
Five
Picturing the glow outside
Alighting on your resting eyes
Six
Savoring our seven precious seconds
Helplessly defending the present tense
Seven




Today I woke up holding your pillow.
KiraLili Aug 2016
Legs tucked up under you
Hair up and contacts out glasses on
Favourite mug off coffee
Hard cover balanced in the other hand
Your world projects into print
What is most needed is a story
Literature for you creates its own visual
No technology is needed
The act of reading more important than what you read
By reading you hold a dream in your hand you told me
The slight sound of pages turning only broken by slow sips of black gold
An aura of calm exudes all around you as you get deeper into it
What you see every day is replaced by what you've never seen
And books take my lover there
National Book Day
My sunshine after a stormy day.
My rainbow after a rainy day.
My mirror.
My best friend.

On my darkest day you never left,
you see me through when there's nothing left.

In a brink of loneliness,
you sparkled me with
joy and happiness.

You create a brighter day
on my deepest despair,
never forgetting a perfect
smile to wear.

Oh how I love those curly hair!
Bouncing and dancing
up and down in midnight air!

I could not catch a rainbow or
bring you the moon,
but I promise to be your best friend forever 'till noon.

We will be up talking from dusk to dawn,
this friendship will last
forever we will own.

I will walk with you side by side,
hold your hand with all my might.
In vain I will not leave,
count on it I'm yours to keep.

My dear Anne Christine,
best friend of mine.
Two as one and one define.
There may be times of falling out,
but our friendship will never obliterate nor root out.

As our hairs turn to Grey and
we grow old,
together we will be stronger
eightfold.

And when the time comes that our balanced ride in the waves of life is steadied by His hands,
we will wrap our memories in our hearts and keep them until we meet again above the heaven's sands.

We will welcome each other once again with our arms wide open,
locking in a tight embrace,
and that's when we'll know..

our friendship will be eternal..

                                                     ­            - Ella Salvador
(c) June 2018
King Panda Oct 2017
fall hoppers kick to grass
as I walk down
sun-bleach lane

the anhedonia I felt yesterday
is pelted by the wind
away
away
to the breeze beyond
trash-bin creek

I walk past
a meddled roadside lover
kissing her own bloodied hand

must have been
bitten by the white-thing
panting at her feet

the image comes
and passes
with the balanced
autumn sunshine

I touch the twist of barbed wire
that guards a
re-habitated pond

a drop of blood
wells and surfaces
a moon-blazed penny

the dulled copper sting
of flesh and money
merges in the glory
of shortened days

all is accorded to the fleeting
nature of my heartbeat

that which comes and passes
Autumn Oct 2014
I stuck chickens in my baggy tie dye shirt
nuzzled on the couch, coffee in hand.
I enjoyed a deep conversation with a willow tree
and asked how it felt about the other species.
I slid cookies in the back pocket of my tattered jeans
before biking through the morning air.
I smiled at old Ted in the nursing home
with a wink, he smiled back.
I dribbled the basketball with the strong scent
of campfire coming from my backyard.
I danced in the shower
the warm droplets falling on my skin.
I smoked in the sparkling cove
with strangers that became my friends.
I flew off the high rocks
and submerged into cold crystal waters.
I looked into those faded blue eyes,
and chuckled cause' we do that.
I balanced on the fallen limb
and hopped up onto the beautiful stump.
I giggled with my sisters
cause' we made some really mean jokes.
I ate spaghetti with my friends,
and laughed so hard we choked.
I tumbled over tree roots
got back up and kept on trailin'.
I thanked God for this life
and he said you're welcome.
some things I like in random orders
Have you ever wondered about your own mortality? What is ahead of you in the depths of Limbo while you continue to wait for a 'judgement day'?

Humans are vulnerable to such thoughts obstructing their minds. Everything becomes clouded before it turns into a blur. Then you are no longer.

Mortals spend their time going through a routine while we cast down to watch, much to our dismay.

You never know what fate has in store for you, so don't complain. Do not fret nor worry. Time is all that matters. The twisted hands of two for to forever interlock in the dance of Death and Life. Never shall such beings intervene.

Raven eyes set bright and clear as snow on nights of ice and dew.

Ebony feathers drop with a platinum glow amongst their linings against the lighting of the moon.

A ****** crystal and cerulean gem that shine so bright together even if it isn't natural for such shades.

Balanced, are the world of the living and the world of spirits. Pureness and corruption are never to overcome one another. Balance is key and the key is a truth you still have yet to find.
Ainnoot May 3
It was easy for you to fall.
You weren’t balanced
and I put you on too high a pedestal.
I helped you get back up on your feet,
but you must really love to crawl.
We are three blades of a ceiling fan,
You, he and I,
If one goes it will be imbalanced.
Ask me, o you!
I hate to be balanced.
Broken heart poem
sophie mechaune Oct 2018
rhythm is
comfort
and predictability
stitching my days together
through the notion
of repeating the motions
an illusion of stability,
but no matter the way I
structured my day
no matter the perfection
I strived to attain
no matter how many
unkempt strings I cut away
I think deep down I knew
that life
should be a little frayed

as counterintuitive as it seems
the unexpected becomes
the rhythm of dreams
ripping through the routine
changing the patterns
of what I planned to be
into new designs entirely

so I embrace this chaotic beauty
with its endearing knots and
erratic threading, ready for
living imperfectly
balanced in the uncertainty
is rhythm
Gabriel burnS Oct 2017
Too good and yet true
Too beautiful
To taste
Without falling in daze
Without following
Delirious
An aroma trail of craving
On the back of my tongue
I’m getting equal measures
Of heaven and hell
Perfectly balanced

My eyes are my traitors
Plotting to open the gates
Sending stowaway warriors
Whom I never gave orders
To slip behind walls
Of thickest black pupils
In the Trojan horse
That my eager look is

And gazes are bridges
Unwillingly
Supporting the siege
Of epiphanies
You and me
Caught in our ambush
Completely surrounded by Us
Nigdaw Jul 19
A lonely soul, looking for inspiration;
Balanced on the edge of life.

Words penned from a dark mind,
With occasional flashes of light.

A loser in the end, but brilliantly -
And everyone missing the point.
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