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Verdant Quo Nov 2018
like water
I poured myself into her until she was overflowing at the brim

like reinforced steel
I bridged my heart to hers and welded myself to her soul

like the sun
I filled myself with light to cover her darkness

like a blanket
I shielded her from the harsh world underneath the covers

like magnets
I orbited her aura until we inevitably collided

like a seed
I felt myself growing up from her

Then, like an idiot
I could tell she felt nothing.
melinoe immortal Jul 2017
'Healer' time take thy poor, black sheep,
and stop it from wondering
in the dangerous corners
of the mind,
because heaven and hell collided
inside a body and in unity they came
in the presence of all those
who conspired to it.

From the frontal to the occipital lobe,
dark thoughts obstruct
the brain’s watershed regions
and thanatos they bring.
The soul cannot take this coffin
anymore.

The stone is too heavy to carry;
sliding down and pushing up,
every night the pushing starts,
for the dawn, her courage to crack.


It may be like Hooke's law they say,
but bodies break down,
when people apply the extra force
and so do the souls,
long before.
Amber Bowen Feb 2015
I thought I heard it in your voice
An unreal suggestion to sincerity
It was like my heart stopped for a lifetime
As butterflies collided in my stomach
But that all seemed to vanish
My heart sank to the pit of my stomach
And the butterflies retreated rightfully so
The very second you sidestepped such a foolish thought
It was a punishing wave of disappointment.
I should have learned all the other times.
howard brace Oct 2012
Stood rigidly to attention either side of the hearth, the two bronze fire-dogs had been struggling to maintain that British stiff upper lipidness, which up until earlier that evening had best befitted their station in life... indeed, for the last half hour at least had become brothers in arms to the dying embers filtering through the bars of the cast-iron grate, passing from the present here and now, having lost every thermal attribute necessary to sustain any further vestige of life... to the shortly forthcoming and being at oneness with the Universe... only to fall foul of the overflowing ash-pan below.  This premature cashing in of the coal fire's chips could only be attributed to the recent and prolonged thrashing from the Baronial poker... and a distinct lack of enthusiasm from the family retainer, whom it appeared, required spurring along in a like manner... and while unseen mechanisms were heard to be engaging, then resonating deep within the Hall... that unless summoned... and quickly, the housekeeper had little intention of making an appearance of her own choosing and re-stoke the Study fire while the BBC Home Service were airing 'Your 100 Best Tunes' on the wireless, leaving the heavily tarnished pendulum to continue measuring the hour.

     An indistinct mutter and snap of a closing door latch sounded in the immediate distance as the unhurried shuffle of domestic footsteps... not too dissimilar from those of Jacob Marley's spectral visitation to Scrooge... echoed ever closer along the ancient, oak panelled hallway without.  Their sudden cessation, allowing the housekeeper ingress to  the book lined Study, was by way of sporadic groans from unoiled hinges, door furniture that voiced the same overwhelming lack of attention as that of the fire-grate set in the wall opposite and presumably, from the same overwhelming lack of domestic servitude.
                                        
     "Had his Lordship rang...?" the Housekeeper wailed dolefully, giving her employer what might casually pass for a courteous bob... and in lieu no doubt, of Marley's rattling chains, padlocks and dusty ledgers... "and would there be anything further his Lordship required..." before she took her leave for the evening.  The notion of a sticky mint humbug warming the cockles of his ancient, aristocratic heart gave her pause for thought as she rummaged through her pinafore pockets, then thought better of it, after all, confectionary didn't grow on trees...  In bobbing a second time she noticed the malnourished, yet strangely twinkling coal-scuttle lounging over by the hearth, whose insubstantial contents had taken on an ethereal quality earlier that evening and had now transferred its undivided attention to the recently summoned Housekeeper, who was quite prepared to offer up a candle in supplication come next Evensong were she mistaken, but the coal-scuttle's twinkle bore every intimation of giving what appeared to be a very suggestive 'come-on' in return... and had been doing so since she first entered the room... 'and did she have any plans of her own that particular evening', the coal-scuttle twinkled suavely, 'perchance a leisurely stroll down by the old coal cellar steps...'  Now perhaps it was the lateness of the hour which had caused the Housekeeper's confusion that evening, or perhaps an over stretched imagination, brought on through domestic inactivity, but it wouldn't take a great deal to hazard that a lingering fondness for Gin and tonic played no small part towards her next curtsey, which she did, albeit unwittingly, in the unerring direction of the winking coal-scuttle.

     With the household keys as her badge-of-office, jangling defiantly from the chain around her waist, the housekeeper began inching back the same way she came, back towards the study door and freedom... and back into the welcoming arms of her 1/4 lb. bag of peppermint humbugs and the pint of best London Gin she'd had to relinquish prior to 'Songs of Praise...' and which was now to be found... should you happen to be an inquisitive fly on a particular piece of floral wallpaper... half-cut, locked arm in arm with the bottle of Indian tonic water and in the final, intoxicating throws of William Blake's, 'Jerusalem...' hic.

     "Ha-arrumph..." the elderly gentleman cleared his throat... "ah Gabby" he said, lowering his book and placing it face down upon the occasional table set beside him.  The flatulent groan of tired leather upholstery made itself heard above the steady monotony of the mantle-piece clock as he stood and chaffed his hands in the direction of the bereft fire, "Oh! I'm sorry your Lordship, then there was something...?" as she maintained her steady but relentless backwards retreat unabated, the double-barrelled bunch of keys taking up a strong rear-guard action and away from the well disposed coal scuttle... "and was his Lordship quite certain that he required the fire stoking at such a late hour..." she dared, "perhaps a nice warming glass of port and brandy instead" gesturing towards the salver, long since tarnished by the half hearted attentions of a proprietary metal polish... "and would he care for..." then thought better of offering to plump the chair cushions herself, having discovered Mort, the household mouser in the final stages of claiming them as his own, deftly rearranging the Victorian Plush with far more than any noble airs or graces.

     "Poor Mrs Alabaster, you will recall Sir, I'm sure..." a pained expression crossed the Housekeepers face as she collided with a corner of the Georgian writing bureau and bringing her to an abrupt halt... "her late Ladyships lady" she continued, indiscreetly rubbing her derriere, "whose services your Lordship dispensed with at the onset of last Winter, shortly after the funeral, God rest her late Ladyship... when you made her redundant... and how she's been unable to find a new situation ever since on account of her lumbago flaring up again, seeing as how it's been the coldest January in living memory", which in all likelihood meant since records began... "and SHE didn't have any coal either... or a roof over her head for all anyone cared... begging yer' pardon, yer' Lordship", letting her tongue slip as she attempted yet one more curtsey... "and it's wicked-cruel outside this time of year Sir, you wouldn't turn a dog out in it..." and how ordering the coal used to be Mrs Alabaster's responsibility...

     "Oh no, Sir", as she unsuccessfully stifled a hiccup...she would be only too delighted to rouse the Cook, especially after that dodgy piece of scrag-end they'd all had to suffer during Epiphany, but it was only last week that the Doctor had confined Cookie to bed with the croup... "as I'm sure your Lordship will recall..." as she attempted a double curtsey for effect, the despondent coal-scuttle now all but forgotten, "that below-stairs had been dining on pottage since a week Friday gone... and it tends to get a little moribund after almost a fortnight your Honour... and that Mrs Cotswold's rheumatism was still showing no signs of improvement either by the looks of things... and was having to visit the Chiropodist every fortnight for her bunions scraping... and how she's been advised to keep taking the embrocation as required".

     As a young woman, any disposition her grandmother may have had towards sobriety or moral virtue had quickly been prevailed upon by the former Master's son taking intimacy to the next level with the saucy Parlour Maid's good nature.   Shortly thereafter, having been obliged to marry the first available Gardener that came along, she was often heard to say "a bun in the oven's worth two in the bush" for it was with stories 'of such goings-on'  that made it abundantly clear to the Housekeeper, that it was far more than old age creeping up... and that if she didn't keep her wits wrapped tightly about her, as she threw a sideways glance at the winking philanderer... then who would.

     As for the Gardener, "well... he couldn't possibly manage the cellar steps at this late hour, yer' Lordship, wot' with the weather being the way it is right now Sir, seasonal... and him with his broken caliper... and bronchitis playing him up at every turn, even though his own ailing missus swore by a freshly grown rhubarb poultice first thing each morning", but oddly enough, "how it always seemed to work better if the young barmaid down in the village rubbed it on, especially around opening time..." even his brother, Mr Potts Senior, ever since their Dad passed away... "God rest his eternal soul", as she whirled, twice in as many seconds, a mystical finger in the air... had said how surprised he'd been to discover that it could be used as a ground mulch for seed-cucumbers... it was truly amazing how The Good Lord provided for the righteous... and even as she spoke, was working in mysterious ways, His Wonders to Behold... "Praised-Be-The-Lord".

     And how the entire household, with the possible exception of Mrs Alabaster, her late Ladyships lady, who doggedly refused to be evicted from her 'Grace n' Favour cottage...' the one with pretty red roses growing around the door, that despite a string of eviction notices from the apoplectic Estate manager... had noticed what a fine upstanding Gentleman his Lordship had steadfastly remained since her late Ladyships sudden demise... "God-rest-her-immortal-soul..." and may she allow herself to say, "how refreshing it was to have such a progressively minded and discerning employer such as his Lordship at the helm, one filled with patient understanding and commitment towards the entire household..." much like herself...

     Fearing an uncontrollable attack of the ague, which invariably took the form of a selfless and unstinting dereliction to duty and always flared up at the slightest suggestion of having to roll her sleeves up and do something... which incidentally, was the first mutual attraction by common consent to which her parents, some forty years earlier had discovered they both held in tandem... and "would his Lordship take exception..." feigning a sudden relapse as she gestured towards the nearest chair, were she to take the weight off her feet... she plonked herself solidly upon the Chippendale before his Lordship could decline... "perhaps a recuperative drop of brandy" she volunteered, "just for medicinal purposes", she swept her feet onto the footstool, then crossed them with a flourish that would have caused Cyrano de Bergerac to hang up his sword... "the good stuff, if his Lordship would be so kind, in the lead-crystal decanter... over in the corner by the potted plant", she caught sight of the adjacent cigarette box, also tarnished... "just to keep body and soul together, may it please 'Him upon High'..." and just long enough to brave the coal cellar steps and refill the amorous scuttle... "if only it were a little less chilly", she gave an affected cough... on account of her diphtheria acting up again, she felt sure that his Lordship understood...  Moving over to one of the book lined alcoves, the elderly Gentleman lifted several tomes from the shelves... 'My Life in Anthracite', an illustrated compendium' "to begin with, I think... followed by... hmm!" 'The History of Fossil-Fuels, a comprehensive study in twelve breath taking volumes' "and we'll take it from there" as he threw the first on the barely smouldering embers...

                                                      ­     ...   ...   ...**

a work in progress.                                                        ­                                                         1859
Pau Jan 2015
I never understood the science of missing somebody
I know biology has an explanation for why we miss someone,
but why,
why is there a need for it?
why does it occur almost immediately,
seconds even after
our skins collided?
why should I miss something that is not entirely my own?
why
must
this
be
the
prerequisite
to
falling
in
love?
Elinor Jun 2018
I had my first dream last night that you weren't in.
not even a minor character,
your ****** name wasn't even in the credits,
let alone plastered across the sky in flashing lights
like you want it to be.
my first reality that you didn't belong in,
and it was the most blissful peace that I can remember since we bathed in pools of cloud.

I heard the first song that didn't make me think of you yesterday.
the lyrics, for once, were just lyrics,
not an embodiment of you and the things you do.
guess what?
it was coldplay.
you always hated coldplay.

this morning, I basked in the sun and didn't picture you coated in gold light beside me.
I didn't look at the leaves adorning the trees and picture your face laughing beneath it.

I didn't trace the plate lines of my palm and imagine the earthquake we used to create when yours collided with mine.

I didn't eat new food that I wanted you to try and I didn't want to share the smallest details of my day with you.

you may have won this poem, loverboy,
but don't be too triumphant.
your victory won't last long.
it's the era of my new beginnings without you and I'm going to be just fine.
never trust anyone who doesn't like coldplay.
Willow Hadleigh Jun 2014
I remember when you walked to my house in the pouring rain,
when we embraced in the middle of the road I felt no more pain.
I looked up at you and our lips collided,
but I knew the love was only one sided.
kenny Feb 2013
We haven't collided yet
I haven't stumbled on the right words to say
until after the fact
The ghost of the stairway
haunting in consonance
praying for coincidences

Standing on introductions
during the ritualistic deconstruction
of archetypal meeting grounds

That awkward walk dance thing
we're doing with divine intervention
At least that's how I wishful think sometimes
It's better than the paranoid nature of my reality
I swear the moon's trying to follow me down
where I stare to the void and submit my crown
and it's these little things that'll save your sanity
In the end, we're just atoms anyway.
We're two Halley's comets collided;
Awesome burst created our own universe,
Together across this great expanse we traverse;
Finally real after all that we've pretended,
Not just dreamers; we take action
Seize the moment; never caught in inaction,
God made the stars; but we make them shine,
We've hooked the bait line after line
And now after weathering the storm
We're always catching the worm,
We've been shunned;
We've been gunned-
Down by the jealous and the lost;
Who know not their purpose only can accost-
Us wanting to know where we're headed,
And to think once we fretted dreaded
Their accusing eyes,
But they live only lies
Wanting our secrets; envy our success
Always wonder how we excel under duress,
But they'll never know how we trump-
All their expectations; how no speed bump-
Can slow us down; nothing can hold us,
In a magnificent clusterfuck they all lay
Debris caught trailing our orbit; all ruckus,
We're headed warp speed dead ahead; come what may...
© okpoet
Christina Sep 2012
They say that Aphrodite, goddess of love, fertility,
and ethereal beauty was born of sea foam.

The Mediterranean waves relentlessly collided into themselves with
passion, like a forbidden love affair, until leaving
behind their salty remains. From chaos, complexity, and divine
effervescence, Came forth the most delicate entity known
to man.

*And yet sea foam smells like ****.
Javaria Waseem Nov 2014
The back seat of the old Chevy
and that familiar smell of cigar mixed with your scent
Stealing little moments in
the darkness of the night
as the sky lit up and danced
The faint taste of liquor
never felt so good before as it did
from your lips.
Short breaths,
sweaty hands,
whispers echoing.
It all took me to a place better than
the stars
where we collided
feeling mightier than the sky
that roared outside.
The beads of sweat rolling down your back
felt warmer than the
rain drops
that left a trail behind
on the steamy window.

The world outside seemed peaceful
for the thunderstorm
was felt inside.
ghost queen Mar 2019
The train slowed as it pulled into la Gare de l’Est, the cars bumping and wheels grinding as it came to a stop. It was late. I’d have to move fast to catch the last metro home. I didn’t have the energy, I was tired, cold and hungry, which made me grumpy.

I slung my satchel around my chest, grabbed my carry-on, and made my way to the exit. As I neared the door, I could feel the cold January air flooding into the car. I tightened my coat around me as I stepped down the stairs onto the quay, carry-on in my right hand.

Looking for the nearest exit, I turned left without looking and ran full on into woman. Our bodies collided, time slowed, as we compressed into each other. Her hair flowed into my face like an ocean wave. I could smell her hair, her scent, her femininity. She squealed in surprised, her voice full of youth and nubility.  

The world rushed back into real time and I saw her. My eyes opened wide in awe and disbelief that a woman could be so beautiful. I remember her eyes, supernaturally blue, sapphire blue, as if they glowed from a power within; her skin, white, milky, alabaster, as if she were a statue come to life; her hair, black, glossy, like the feathers of a witch’s raven.

Our eyes locked. Her angry gaze cut through me. I felt exposed and in danger. I looked down and apologized. “Excusez-moi mademoiselle,” I said, putting my right hand to my heart and bowing slightly as if addressing a queen.

I looked back up. Our eyes meet. She had assessed me in the blink of her eyes. She regained her composure, her body relaxed, she touched my arm, and said, “excusez-moi, I was not looking where I was going,” which I sensed was untrue.

I stepped aside. She passed, turned her head, looked me dead in the eyes, gave me a slight smile, and disappeared into the stream of the exiting crowd.

I was perplexed and confused. I’d never had that sort of exchange with a woman before. I didn’t know what to make of it. Was it good, bad, or somewhere in between?

The crowd had thinned. I started walking toward the metro station, looking for #4 Port d’ Orleans, increasing my pace before I missed the last metro home. I followed the signs, and descended the stairs to the quay. There were a few people and groups, up and down the quay, quietly waiting. I leaned on a large concrete pillar, too tired to pay attention to my surroundings, waiting for the train, smelling the air filled with exhaust from electric motors. I could hear the hum of the approaching train. In an instant it was in front of me, slowing down, coming to a stop, the doors hissing open.

I waited a bit, for the groups to board the train. Tired and on auto-pilot, I leaned down, picked up my carry-on, boarded, and sat down on a folding seat by the door, putting my carry-on between my legs.

The train slowly accelerated, humming, rocking, back and forth melodically. I looked up out of curiosity to see who else was on the last train, and I saw her, sitting on the first bench catty-corner, facing towards me. Surprised and caught off guard, that I would ever see her again, I  immediately looked down, not wanting to be caught staring, looking at her from the corner of my eyes.

I couldn’t get over how beautiful she was. Preternaturally beautiful, as if she wasn’t one of us, somehow not human. She was reading a Kindle, iPods in her ears. Her dress was Parisienne, black on black, the only color, the blue in her eyes, and the blood red of her lips.

She oozed sensuality, sophistication, and confidence. How could that be for a woman so young, a woman in her early 20s?

She read quiescently, only her thumb moving, ever so slightly, as she page forward through her Kindle. Her eyes never looked up, not even to see who new entered the car, when stopped at new stations.

I would look up, occasionally, to glimpse at her. She was fascinating to me, not only because of her beauty, but from her vibe. I couldn’t explain it, couldn’t figure it out. Why was I so drawn to her, like a moth to flame?

The train pulled into to Ile-de-la-Cite, rapidly slowing down, passengers counter balancing so as not to fall over. The doors hissed open. In the corner of my eyes, I saw her stand up and start walking up the aisle towards the doors, towards me. I raised my head slowly, our eyes met, locked, time stopped. She smiled, subtly, but enough for me to see. Her eyes, gentle, tender, inviting. I smiled, a slight smile back, my eyes saying everything she wanted to hear.

She turned and exited the train. I stared at her, my mouth open in amazement. The klaxon sounded, the door started closing. Panic surged up within me, as I feared I would never see her again. I bolted up from my seat, headed towards the door, abandoning all behind me. The doors slammed shut with thud, I pulled down on the handle, they were locked.

The train started to move, I looked at her. She was looking back. Our eyes locked, as the trained sped off into the darkness of the night.
Bianca E Rangel Jan 2013
If the Heavens and Earth collided,
You, my dear, would stay undecided

And I'd thank you for the deeds you accomplished
In this pitiful life of mine

Although we could never see eye to eye
I'm still happy that we tried

I suppose this means we were never meant to be
Since you came from the soul

And I from the clouds above

When we intersected our fates shattered through
And our words went askew

Forever will you remember this day
When Heaven and Earth decided to meet

Under the broken moon
When I painfully whispered, "Adieu"
Nicolás Ponce May 2017
you and I are two different souls,
living on two separate worlds
that collided once
just to be parted
and never meet again.
Lora Cerdan Nov 2014
Before you **** yourself, can you do me a little favor?
If it’s not too much to ask, if you have a little time,
If you’re not in a hurry, Please listen to me
Don’t worry; I’m not here to guilt trip you
I know you’re pretty much decided
So please, let me stall you for a minute or two
You know, some people **** themselves right away
Some people wait for signs
Some people change their hairstyles, their clothes
To send a silent SOS to anyone who would notice
Because it’s not easy to ask for ‘Help’
When you know they’re just going to say
‘Get over it’, ‘don’t be so sad’, and “It’s going to be okay”
When you know they’re just saying that because they don’t know what else to say
I’m not here to do that either
I’m not here to tell you that your problems
Are meaningless compared to what kids in Africa are going through right now
I’m not here tell you stories of people with cancer fighting for their lives
When you just want to end yours
I am here to tell you that your problems are valid
Your struggles are real, your fight is real
You are real and you exist
You take up space

Before you **** yourself, I want you to know
That whatever you decide to do,
You’re not a coward in my eyes
But a soldier who simply didn’t want to fight
With all the warlords inside your head
And you’re the only one who desires peace
A cease fire  
You don’t want to fight
Because you know in the end
They will win and they will devour you
You are a prisoner of your own world war
And no one is ever coming to free your chains
No amount of happiness disguised as little pills in a bottle
No weeks of sessions with a doctor who don’t even look at you when you talk
No amount of inspirational posters or celebrity ******* that says ‘It will get better’
I know you think nothing will ever change the fact that you are losing  
But the thing is, it’s not a fact
Those are just your opinions
And as far as opinions go, they can be changed
They can change
Like the person who owns them

Before you **** yourself, I want you stop worrying about hell
It may or may not exist, depending on what you believe in
And if you believe that hell is for people who **** themselves
Then why bother going there, when you can have all the hell you want, right here, right now.
At least this hell has internet and pizza and ice cream.
That doesn’t sound appealing enough but
You get the point

Before you **** yourself, do you know how many people on your Facebook page
will ransack your wall and post things like: ‘I will miss you.”, ‘Rest In Peace”, “I wish we could’ve hanged out more”
and other lovely words that they didn’t bother to say to you while you’re still around
Do you really want strangers to put hearts and kisses on your wall when they have spent their entire lives ignoring you?
Do you want your Facebook page to be infested with people who wants to scream to the world how much they sort of grieve you but didn’t show
how much they love you?
Do you really want them to use your death to make them seem like they cared?
I say, do not give them that satisfaction.

Before you **** yourself have you ever considered how much a funeral costs?
Why, it’s the second multi-million business next to weddings!
Let’s say your coffin will cost your family 50,000 Php
Your wake and all the other things will cost about 80,000 Php
That’s a total 130,000 Php that you could’ve just spent travelling the country
And escaping your personal hell for a while rather than spending it on your death
Burying you to the ground or burning you to ashes
Corpses and ashes don’t get to surf the waves
Or feel the wind on their faces
Or feel that moment of accomplishment when they finally reach a mountain’s summit
Would you rather rot and get eaten by worms
Than soak your feet beneath the blue seas,
and watch the sun paint the sky, bursting into colors as it sets?


Before you **** yourself, I want you to imagine the 11-year-old you
Put them in your position and ask them
“What are you going to do?”
I know, it sounds ridiculous I mean, what’s a kid’s solution to a very adult problem?
But think about this, if that 11 year old survived through your current age right now,
Maybe you can survive for a few years more
Sometimes, adults tend to make things seems complicated when they’re not
Because adults are forced to think to just accept THIS reality
This reality built on taxes, corruption, politics and twisted definitions of responsibility stitched into every fiber of our adult skin
Adults are taught to ‘**** it up’ because we no longer have the excuse of youth
We are told to go with flow
To drown ourselves in status quo
Because it is proper;
Not because it’s right
It is not your fault you’re wired this way
But just because your wires are tangled and the knots are hard to undo
Does not mean you can’t

Before you **** yourself, I want you think about
The creation of the universe
I want you think about the Big Bang Theory
Or the Genesis chapter in the Bible
Or the theory that we came from Aliens
I don’t care which of these you believe in
They are just saying one thing:
It took time to create you  
Billions of atoms and neurons and electrons collided
To form you  
You are not some walking flesh and blood  
With no purpose
You’re here for something
For someone
Maybe not now
But someday
Someday, someone’s eyes will light up
Seeing you coming their way
Arms opening up, welcoming you to a warm embrace
Someone will smile because they thought of something funny
that you said and they wouldn’t care if people catch them smiling in public like some kind of nutcase
Someone will see your scars as proof of your survival
A tiger who earned its stripes

But only if you live to see it.
Only if you live to see it.

Before you **** yourself, I want you to know that there are people out there
Who genuinely care about you
of course it’s hard for you to see that
Because you don’t always see it when they show it
Probably because they show it too often
Sometimes caring is in the way a person says ‘hello’
Love is in the way they say ‘text me when you get home’
It’s when people say good night or have a nice day
It’s the little things that actually count
You just have to look out for them

Before you **** yourself, please try to realize that your problems are temporary
Do not give it a permanent solution
The world is a cycle, it revolves, and it changes.
Maybe not right away, maybe not this second when you need it the most to change
But give it time.
Give yourself some time,
But most of all, give yourself a chance.

Before you **** yourself,

don’t.


-L.C.
Sometimes, the only way out is to let others in.
L Smida Jan 2012
One quiet night, I sit at my computer watching the curser blink on the screen as I am pondering upon what to write about. All is silent as my mind is running free, but the silence is broken by an instant message. The message is from an anonymous writer. The words that were sent to me say "Meet me at the park in 10 minutes."  Nervous chills crawl up my spine.  I respond with the words "Whom am I speaking with?" but the anonymous writer had signed off before I got a response.  Millions of questions race through my mind, I make my decision whether to go or not. Something in the back of my mind was telling me I should go and see who this anonymous writer is.
So, I throw on a dark hoodie and put the hood up.  I look in the mirror and I say to myself "Here goes nothing."  I slip out the window and head for the park. Its dark and creepy walking alone on this wet and windy road but I'm not going to turn around quite yet. Even though this isn't the safest area to be walking around this late at night, my mind was focused on what was going to happen. The park is only a few blocks away. I see it in the distance under the street light. I approach closer and decide to sit on the swings and wait. Silence filled the cold air and after waiting five minutes, which seemed more like an hour, because my curiosity was driving my feelings wild. I actively scan for anybody who may be walking near by, but I could see nothing.
Suddenly a sound struck through the air and I felt my phone in my pocket light up. I pull it out to see who in the world is texting me at this hour. The number is unknown and the words read, "I see you."  I look around nervously but see only darkness beyond the street light. So I reply, "Who is this?" As I hit the send button, my ears open up to see if I can hear any ring tones in the silent air around me. There’s nothing to be heard besides for my phone receiving another text that reads "Don’t be scared." So I think for a few seconds with my mind full of many different thoughts. Should I be scared? Should I be worried? What’s going to happen to me? Should I not be scared? All these questions bolt through my wondrous mind. I couldn't make myself get up off the swing; I sit here with my nerves all in knots. I see a figure stand up in the far distance across the street and it’s making its way over to me. I can’t tell who it is. All I can see is a silhouette of a human walking over to where I sit. The figure now stands before me and I stand up so we can be face to face. The anonymous writer is pulling its hood down, my eyes open real wide and my nerves are crawling around inside of me like ants on a piece of dropped unwanted candy. The truth is about to be revealed. The light coming from the street light shines on the writers face to show the ****** features. My jaw just about drops to the floor, as a major shock jolts through every inch of my body. The anonymous writer just so happens to be a girl, a pretty girl as a matter of fact. We look each other in the eyes for a moment with many different thoughts flowing through our minds trying to tell what each other is thinking.
The look in her eyes calms my nerves. Then to break the silence, I ask her if she would like to swing on the swings with me. She replied with the sweetest of voices "Sure." and that word danced around in my head over and over again till we started a conversation. I wipe the rain water off the seat of her swing with my sleeve so she could sit down comfortably.
She said "I knew you would show up!"
"You really gave me a scare." I said in a hushed tone.
She said "I told you not to be scared."
"I know, but it was all just so nerve racking. It was hard for me to focus. This isn't too safe of an area."
"True.  Are you okay now?" she asked.
"Yea, I’m fine now" and I gave her a smile.
She giggled "That’s good. I wanted to meet you but I wasn’t sure how, and I wanted it to be memorable."
I laughed and said "Well this is memorable alright."
"Sure is." she said.
My hands are beginning to sweat as our conversation continues. She stops our conversation and takes me by the hand and leads me to the street. Holding hands, she tells me that she wants to go for a walk. While we walk in silence, with each step, I am getting more and more paranoid about my hands. I glance down at her to see if I could tell what she was thinking about.
Then she looks up at me with her big pretty blue eyes and giggles gently when she says "Your hands are sweaty." My heart just about stops and I swallow deeply. Then she giggles some more and says "Its ok, I like holding your sweaty hand." and she grips my hand even tighter and cuddles up closer to me as we walk. We continued walking a few more blocks and I asked her "Where do you want to go?"
She replied "Anywhere."
I thought for a second and said "..Piggy back ride?"
She smiled the biggest smile and hopped on my back. I carried her to my secret spot where I lay and look up at the stars.  I set her down so she could get a better look at the place.  She told me that this place is beautiful and I mumbled a few words under my breath.
"What?" she asked curiously.
I said "You said this place is beautiful, then I said just like you." and with that said, she dove into my arms and we both fell to the ground. She cuddles up next to me and we laid there to gaze up at the stars for quite a long time. I look over at her and her head lay close upon my shoulder.  Her eyes are closed and I whisper to see if she is awake "Hey, are you asleep?" but there was no answer.  She continues to lie there so peacefully.  I lay my head back down and stare up at the black night sky.  Just as I was dozing off, I felt her sit up and pull her phone out of her pocket. The bright screen lights up her face and she answered it "hello?" I sat up and listened to what she was saying. She hung up and said disappointedly "That was my sister. She said that my parents are home and they are looking for me. So I have to go."
"Okay. Well, can I at least walk you home?" I asked
She said "Sure, but we have to be sneaky." She looks at me for an answer. I look at her and I put my finger over my lips and whisper "Not a sound." She smiled at me and we started walking. Once we reached her driveway, we hid behind the bushes looking through the window to see if her parents were sleeping yet. No sign of them anywhere.
Her eyes are looking at me and she whispers "Can I tell you a secret?" I nod my head and she asks "Are you sure?" I nod my head once more. She leans in and touches her soft lips to mine. As gentle as it was, it was mighty powerful. I could have sworn that time had stopped for that moment when our lips collided.
I look deep into her eyes and say "Your secrets safe with me." and she smiles, gets up, and goes inside. I sit here on the ground behind the bush just thinking about all that had just happened. All at once this one major subject came crashing into my mind. I forgot to ask her what her name was! I couldn’t leave without knowing her name. I pulled out my phone to text her, but it was dead. Then I notice a light that had just turned on, on the second floor of her house. So I grab a tiny stone and throw it at the window. I’m still hiding in the bushes just in case it isn’t her room. I wait to see if anyone comes to open the window, and she did. I jump out and she looks down at me and says "What are you still doing here?"
I look up at her and say "I don’t know your name?"
She says, "I dont know your name either."
"My name is jeff."
She laughs and says "Goodnight" and closes her window.
Confused with what just happened, I look at the ground and kick the stones in disappointment. I start walking away. I look back at her window to see if she’s going to come back but no luck. I head home and climb in the window that I had climbed out of earlier. I put my phone on charge. Then I take off my hoodie and cuddle up in bed. As thoughts fill my mind, I slowly drift off to sleep. A few hours later, I was awoken by my phone vibrating on the desk beside me. I rub my eyes and reach over to see who was texting me. It was that girl! The text read "Let’s meet again tomorrow." I reply "Ok. What time?" she said "Afternoon."  I type back a smiley face and fall back asleep.
As morning arrives, the sun peeks through my window and wakes me from my slumber. I check my phone and there’s a text message waiting to be read. It says "Meet me at the breath taking place where we star-gazed last night." I look at the clock to check the time. Its 11:11, I make a wish about how I want this day to be the best day of my life and I want nothing to go wrong. I jump up out of bed and trip over the phone cord, and I also hit my head off the ground to give me a huge head ache. I say to myself "Well, I better start getting ready if I want to get there by noon." I can’t find my hoodie, I can’t get my hair the way I want it to go, my dog chewed my favorite pair of shoes, and there’s nothing to eat. I’m beginning to think that my wish was left unnoticed. I’m not going to let these little mistakes get in my way. I put on my other pair of shoes and hurried out the door. When I get to the place where she told me to meet her, she’s sitting down in the grass facing the opposite direction of which I am coming. I sneak up behind her, put my hands around her eyes and ask "Guess who?"
She grabbed my hands and guessed "Jeff."
"How did you know?"
She replied "Your sweaty hands gave it away."
I laugh and ask her "What do you want to do?"
She answered "Swim!"
I point toward the lake. She nods her head and says "Let’s go!" We reach the shore line and I take off my hoodie and my shirt. She says "Wait, I have to put my phone somewhere so it doesn't get wet!" She takes my clothes, my phone and her phone and heads up the hill a little bit and sets everything down. I walk to the edge of the dock and look out across the lake. I turn around to see where she went and I see her running full speed in my direction. She screams and tackles me into the water. As we come up for air she puts her arms around my neck and slips me a gentle kiss.
"What was that for?" I ask.
"I like you." she replies nicely.  
We goof around and have a lot of fun. We swim toward shore and then realize there’s nothing to dry off with. We lie in the grass to soak up the sun, as we both are lying very still and quiet.
I ask her "What’s your name?"
She opens her eyes but doesnt look at me.  she looks up at the sky and says "When the time is right, I’ll tell you my name."
So then after she said that, I lay my head back down and to let the sun dry us both off. I stood up and gave her my hand. She took a hold of it and I helped her up. I let her wear my hoodie because it was getting quite cold outside and clouds were starting to form. As we walk along the road, I felt a few rain drops. We both start to sing and dance. Puddles started to accumulate in the holes of the road. We jump in all the puddles while we dance. Getting rather tired from all the action, I take a seat on the curb of the road and I watch her gracefully dance around like an angel. She walks over to me and gives me her hand. I grab her hand and she pulls me up. She puts my hands around her waste and holds my head. Our lips meet as the rain falls down upon us.
Our lips let go and she ventures off again to splash in the puddles. She left me standing there speechless. She comes dancing back and asks "What’s the matter?"
I say "Nothing."
"Well, there has to be something wrong if you have that lost look on your face."
"I'm just wondering where you came from. You came out of no where and completely changed my life."
"Is that bad?"
"No, not at all. Don't be silly. There is nothing bad about you at all. It's almost as if you were perfect."
"Awe. Thank you." she said
"You're welcome."
Soaking wet we continue on our journey. A car drives past and splashes water up in the air. I hold onto her to protect her from the muddy drops of water. It didn't really do much because we are already drenched with water but I felt like it was the most polite thing to do at the moment. The car pulls over to the side of the road and stops. The window rolls down and it’s her father. He orders her to get in the car. She gives me a sad look and awkwardly waves goodbye. I watch the car drive away and I realize that I am in a wet t-shirt and I'm pretty cold. She looks back at me through the rear window of her father’s car.  I wave gently to show that I saw her looking. I head on home and I hear my pocket ring. I pull out my phone and read the text from her "I’m sorry."
I answer "It's okay."
But I don’t get any response from her. I get home and get on the computer. An instant message pops up on the screen. It says "My dad took my phone."
I type "Awe, why?" and then hit the enter key.
"Cause I don't listen to him and his rules. I won’t be able to stay on long because my dad is going to disconnect the internet. So say anything you have to say right now before I have to get off."
I think real fast and say "I love you."
Then she signs off. I’m left here unknown of her thoughts. As night falls, I get the idea to go to her house. It’s still raining a little bit so I put on a hoodie and head out the door. I get to her house and I look for a tiny stone to toss at her window. I grab one and throw it. It hits the window and makes a quite ping sound.  She must have heard it because she opens her window and looks down at me. She mouths the words "I’m sorry."  I put my finger over my lips "Shhh.."  She leaves the window and I try to see what she’s doing. She throws a rope out and climbs down. I stand below her because the rope isn’t quite long enough. I tell her that I would catch her if she happens to fall. She lets go and falls into my arms. She grabs my hand and we run away up the street. Both of us gasping for air, we have to stop to regain strength. We sit in the wet grass and I put my arm around her "Is it the right time to tell me your name yet?"
She sits in silence just starring at the ground.
I look at her and say "I got this necklace and to make it special, I wanted to engrave your name in it."  I dig into my pocket and pull out the necklace to show her. "See, my name is here and I want your name to go there" the necklace reads "Jeff ♥'s ...."

I'm sitting here inspecting the necklace and I begin to hear weeping.

"Why are you crying?" I ask calmly, but no answer.

I ask again once more "Are you okay?"  I started to panic but then I realized that panicking will only make things worse.  So, I scoot real close to her and I let her rest her head on my shoulder.  

After a few moments, I whisper "Shhh. Don't cry. Pease, tell me what's bothering you."  Then I whip away the tears that fall from her eyes.

She finally replies "Okay, but you're going to think that I'm crazy."

"No. I would never."

She takes a big deep breath and lets it out real slow then says "I can see the future."

"Well, did you have a vision?" I ask.

She nods her head.

"Just now?"

"No, a while ago."

"How long ago?"

"While we were looking up at the stars the first night."

"Was it not a good vision?"

She shakes her head side to side.

"What was it about?"

She points her finger towards me.

I swallow hard and ask "How accurate are these visions that you have?"

"90%"

I become very nervous and shaky "Well, what's going to happen to me?"

She tries to hide her face from me but I won’t let her. Then I realize that I am handling the situation all wrong.  I let go of all my fear and settle down in a very calm manor. I can feel water leak from my eyes and run down my face.  When I try to hide them, more tend to roll down. I can't control my tears and that’s when I said "I don't know what you saw in your vision but now that you've told me, you've only raised my curiosity to know.  You don't have to tell me because what ever happens, happens. Nothing can change. But if you tell me then maybe there is something we can do to try and dodge the bullet."

After I let the word bullet come out of my mouth, she started to cry even more.  So, that sent me a little hint but I still wasn't exactly sure what was going on.

Then there was a sudden interruption.  It sounded far away but it was the sound of bad brakes on a car.  As soon as we both heard it, she put her head up real quick and said "It's them."

"Who?
Styles Apr 8
I remember that night
when our stars aligned
the memory still fresh in my mind
attraction at first sight at the speed of light
our worlds collided and our universe was created
the synergy of our chemistry
it mattered mentally so it metamorphosized physically
we didn't make each other, yet, we created us organically
like two atoms coming together
the explosion implodes literally
  manifesting something that didn't exist
creating something that consumes you entirely
Joslin Jones Apr 2015
"You are twisted
and your tongue permanently tastes of cherries." -
you say,
but I just tie cherry knots
with my fruit-infused tongue,
and laugh at your complaints.
Red neon numbers remind me
of your lips on mine.
Gripping at the empty side of the bed,
wishing I were somehow still in your head.
You and I were similiar and collided
in coexisting lives.
I can see a jaw drop
the hand moving south
as if to slip into the knife drawer
of a total solar eclipse.
Six shots deep so I could forget your name,
and all of the reason I love you.
Instead I sat there
with him,
(not you)
crying over cherry stems.
Armando A Jr Aug 2015
I look at you
I see my past, my present my future
I look at you
I see the one, my current, my last
I look at you
I see your smile, your hair, your pretty eyes
I look at us
I feel my heart, its beats, as if it was alive

You brought light to my dark room
You brought sun where only the moon was known
I was blind but now i can see
You have awaken me
You gave me love

I thought i had chosen you
but turns out it was my soul all along
destiny put you in my way
that's why it didn't take too long

Now that I know you I won't let you go
because I see my past, my present, my future
Now that I know you nothing will ever be the same
because I see the one, my current, my last.
When your atoms collided
Like leaves in the rain
Did they ever suspect that they’d create
Something so beautiful and happy and right?
Before though, they were strength and wisdom and might.

They've not changed or altered, only swapped places
To form something so perfect, nothing needs changing.
They've been stars and food and other people alike,
But when they formed you, it was nothing but right.

Your atoms collided in a beautiful way
To form your fingers, your toes, your face.

When I touch your face and to look into those eyes,
I just see more perfection residing inside.

So when I tell you I love you and that you’re perfect
Look at the leaves in the rain
And believe it.
Something a bit more cheery than the other two. Dedicated to anyone who thinks themselves as anything other than perfect.
Devon Kelley Aug 2010
Here come Jupiter child,
You can hear the flowers crying as they plead for her to stay a while,
She just collided with and intergalactic asteroid,
But things were only created never destroyed,
In the dark cool tunnels she found some pretty moon shrooms,
sheltering growing seahorses wrapped in loose water droplet cocoons,
Now towards earth you hear her come,
Within the clouds she beats her tribal drums,
The ocean sways and swells to the time of her rhythm and sound,
Reaching deep into the sea forest to whales traveling homebound,
She wears stars framed in turquoise,
Like the kokopelli she gives birth to planets with grace and poise,
Here comes Jupiter child, dread locks wound with comets,
extracts from the universe, she mixes matter-less tonics,
Recipes rooted deep in wizardry,
she borrows knowledge from indians and aztecs to cure all misery,
Her meteor showers made of her salty tears,
Are earth's dream catcher, snaring all nighttime fears.
madameber Jul 2016
i swear
i tried to catch the sun,
collided with icarus
on the way
he said, “hey,
where are you going?”
and fell
before i could tell him.

i said
“icarus,
there is a terrible
beauty to this world.“
i said
“icarus,
i want it all
to burn.”

and he burned,
crashed into the waves,
his flames flickered
and died.

i swear
i tried to catch the sun
before he did
but he stole it in his wings,
betrayed the sky
for a light
brighter than his own,
he was a shooting star
that i couldn’t swallow.

i said
“hey,
where are you going?”
he told me to make a wish
and fell.

i swear
i tried to catch the sun,
collided with him
on the way.

i said
“icarus,
my world is beautiful,
but terrible.”
i said,
“icarus,
i want it all
to burn.”

our wings melted,
and as the sky rained wax,
we burned.
Upon the mighty raging sea, whirlpools of fiery sparks, Catherine wheels of light and mist mix with the foam of time. Tossed by unseen movements a tiny globe is floating on the tides and flotsam swirls around its contours, attracted by invisible smooth ripples. Dashed to smooth curves, rare and precious treasure pebbles dance in the flotsam, around the tiny globe, lost in that vast sea, tossed aside by finned entities. Together they ride the foam of endless ocean.

Upon his bed of green soft flotsam, in peaceful tranquillity, gazing out at other treasure pebbles, upon the most precious jewelled blue sapphire, swimming in the azure sea, the purple man soaks up the rays of green made by the yellow globe.

The purple man sees and understands.

The lines of his world are shining silver light, for him there is no darkness in the night. Beset by cares he glances at the fractal flotsam and sees himself reflected, unfolding, timeless. Cares melt in mellow green.

The purple man fades and expands, his nebula fills the ocean wide and everything folds, unfolds; breathes in and out. Allfather stands beside the gate.

Where the fish swim and water snakes, where rivers run and wash the mountains silt upon the shore, there one day the star man came descending from a ship that sails the ocean Sky. The purple man was dreaming as before. From far away where people live in light, from where there is no hunger, fear or pain, where none deceive because there is no gain, where power is within and all are free, Wayland came.

Sitting by the river in the mud his fingers sinking into rich red clay he saw this world so full of music and in love, he sought the matrix seeds that dormant lay. Weaving the matrix then this Wayland made a pair of people from the clay and calling to the green fire of life, he gave them this garden free, to care for and in which to learn and play.

The purple man, who on his misty pillow lay said to Wayland then,

“Will you not stay?” The star man answered,

“I have so far to go and there is so much I want to see, you stay here awhile and tell them this: they are the keepers now of flotsam Zu, and you can teach them all that they must know. Say to them and get it right, 'you are the children of the light, travel where you will; you are not bound here by the clay. In all who say, “I am“ there is the life, and all who live are one in truth, this moment does not pass away.' I will return to visit you one day.”

Purple light shines green around the gate and all pass to and fro. There were the flying elephants of old, bright butterfly wings and iridescent scales, and fire within they blew and rose to mate high in the careless foam of space.

“I see, I see,” the purple man exclaims, “And I will leave a legacy.” Then taking out his notebook draws a stone and then another, places both together high upon the hill.

“All shall know!” he cries and gives them eyes and crowns. Thrones they hold with firm rock fingers, king and queen in rock of jewels tiny crystal shimmers. Eyes gaze out along the silver lines of truth, eyes of stone, and he cuts a small notch in the place the eyes alight their vision.

“Now all will know.” He spreads his cloak and sleeps beneath the hill in quiet satisfaction but dreams he did the task and lost in thought forgets. Stones stand waiting in dreams of eyes that only dreamers see and ride the light that only globe green rays can ride in pale yellow day.

“Forget, forget.” The whispers of the shining huntress sing sweetly and the residents of the butterfly house are soothed and filled with wonder. Dancing light reflects from yellow sand. Lifting hot feet to cool in baking oven rays.

Skating on tension, walking on invisible support a fish jumps from the water of a lake, cascading diamond spray around golden wings, then plunges back into the familiar world. Together all are one and life renewed. Wisps of purple smoke rise from a burning pile of old splendid green boughs now brown and brittle and delicious waves cook as chatter rises in anticipation. Toes muddy and wet warm as much as they dare and faces shine as globe of green gives energy. Wisteria sweet twists its tendrils on the gatepost and spreads its fingers wide to reach the stars.

The white and shining orb that, with full sails, is dancing with the flotsam sapphire tells her story in the ripples of a darkened pool. As in each drop the orb is, so it is with all and in all flows the green.

A grey cat-wolf with silky coat, who sweetly purrs sinks her teeth into feathers and warm nourishment flows from vein to vein. Carrying proudly to the doorstep leaves the gift but pricked purple fingers drip blood as tears flow for the tiny, feathered form.

Misunderstanding of the gift and weary sleep claim the mourner. In the corner stands a child of dusty clothes, untidy and ragged feathers. Grey coloured and brown his hair, face, and hair all dusty and brown. In mind of purple song was singing sad songs of green trees and fields of flowers and seeds. The child turns and eyes as old as time look deep as hands are stretched to greet. The purple man takes outstretched hands and they dance to music of the ocean deep.

“It cannot end, the green can never end, it just returns.” and round they dance, as the child is filled with light and transparent power touches purple hands and spirit surges to pull the purple man to stand before the gate.

Purple man rides on steed of unicorn; who sheds his twisted horn of white and says,

“With this you may write and tell the keepers of Zu to teach their subjects true.” His purple fingers hold the shining torch as on the saddle of his steed he carves the key, the binary. “All is here!” he shouts, “it is enough for all to be and all who will to see! Freedom is my gift to humanity!” Walking to the golden shore, he breathes the green fire to his steed, “Fly now and take my pattern home for all to learn.” The unicorn, now dragon born and horse is manifest, with fiery nostrils and shining fins swims into the long and winding currents of the thread of gold.

From that island home is cast the stone and off it goes into the seas of time, the circle seas. Music wafts around the globe as jewelled pebbles sing. The purple man, his eyes upon the depths, his head on soft flotsam pillow looks horizontally and wanders paths of space between.

A king of Zu in earnest thought upon the shore, a hornless unicorn has caught. A dragon horse who will not bear but shakes his saddle, burden gone he flies into the air. This trinket fine will grace the royal belt and a medallion the king does wear; magic token lost in time as those who knew could not stay and to the music danced away. Beyond the gate, into the ocean deep they to while away, until the wafting air lifts up the drops to bear.

Within the turbulence of that wild sea of calmness where regular tides disguise, mountains are ground, their pieces smashed and broken into shimmering beads of light. Each piece the matrix seed does hold within its crystal frame and life its energy. They shoot forth in forces, travel star to star, globe upon globe they circumnavigate and chaos brings movement to the stagnant ponds of flotsam, pools stirring, breathing life.

In Zu, the wanderers, who had no houses yet, who lived among the stars and trees, gathered round fires to eat their fruit and seeds at Mothers knee and told their oral histories.

Memories of mine and theirs and time distorts the tales so pictures made they to endure but meanings lost as careless child is watching dripping fat of meat and mouth is watering at the food to eat. Within the ring of warmth and fire the wild beast fears, the stories fall distorted on deaf ears.

“Remember well the lessons here: Once our world was full of fear. The seas rose up and swallowed whole the land of Zu, the air was cold. The globe its shining rays of green was hid beneath a reddish sheen of fire as worlds collided higher. The cold it came, the ice giants walked upon the land, so I was taught. Now eat this meat the hunter men have brought.” Within the shamans cave the purple man sleeps and walks on paths of many feet.

On bellies laid upon a hill of hot dry golden sand, the purple man looks down with his band of friends upon the tall city gate below. Beyond he sees the golden domes and tall white towers of so fair a place. A white wall stretches far as he can see and by the gate two fierce lions guard with swords of shining steel.

“I know not how to enter there.” he says, but then finds he is inside, alone and the white city walls are high around him. Trepidation grips his thought and on tiptoes he intrudes in wonder, clinging to the walls. The giant who stoops to lift him smiles, gold flashes from ornaments, turquoise beads on olive skin, and strong muscular arms pick up the purple man who looks around and down to see the white towers are but square pools of proportion huge. The strong hands plunge him down into clear water cool, so fresh it cleans, from showers of silver droplets a babe is raised up to the shining pale blue sky.

Seeing a tortoise then beside the waters edge, the purple man, still having horn of unicorn, inscribed the pattern of the nine with movement of the all, so that he would remember all that Wayland said. Then silence and dreams were once more inside his head.

Purple man sat at the foot of a great tree. A red furred squirrel ran up and down the bark, collecting food and going deep to keep its secret safe. Above the tree the globe was shining bright and yellow light was all around. The good folk who dwell in light transparent crystal vessels sang their song for all to hear and as the squirrel gathered food she heard their voices clear. Then, scampering along the ground quietly in case the purple man should wake, she buried down to the deep pools where three watch the water that feeds the sap. She hummed the song but had not listened to the words and got it wrong before those there to guide the destiny.

“Oh, careless child who listens not when at the fire, who now will tell the history?” The purple man saw the green sap of the tree within and understood.

“Make a machine!” the keepers say, “for you are bound by clay. Rip out the sapphires heart and give us power so that in darkness is the light of day. We have the words and wisdom here,” the keepers fight and hide the secret words, “the nine is ours not yours to know, we only have the power, is it not so? We are your keepers, guardians true; we would not lie to you.

“We took the power from Mother of the tribes to keep you safe from beasts who roam. They would not stay outside the ring of warmth and fire but come inside, devour you in your home.

“The seas rose up before and swallowed Zu, the people perished all except a few. Those few were chosen by the unicorn and here to us a tortoise bore its horn. We stole the fire that came on flotsam Zu, we have the lightening here entombed, the stars that fell in dire punishment, we kept them to remind you of your doom.

“We took the prophets all and kept their words, we wrote them down and only we can give those words to you. He who was here is gone for now but will return, to judge all those who will not heed our rule.

“We must make war to punish those who hate, we must sacrifice to please the beast. Then within our boundaries you will be safe in service to our cause for we are wise.”

The slaves of Zu who toil and sweat all day, all fearful of whatever comes their way; the slaves who have no water and no food and not because they have not loved the good, the slaves who weep for flotsam Zu, the ones who try to do what they believe is true, all listened to the keepers and were quiet, they had no heart to war and die in riot. They had no heart to disobey the rules well taught from their first day. Some turned and struck their fellows in dismay.

The feet upon the pavement hard in hardness crunch and shocks run up the legs and bounce the brains of those who cannot see. Purple streaks the sunrise comes and petals yawn to greet the sailing globe of yellow breathing green. Herded and obedient, the subjects of the kingdom of Zu wake and queue politely as keepers set the tasty morsels. Wheels and tides, time and ocean turn as globe spins in eddies and careless diamonds sprinkled in the flakes of cornfields tell the story unfolding.

Shadows play. The sickle shines its ****** sweetness horned and lovely; sparks of stars surround the misty blue. Knees and cries on time forget the sly insertions and nourish soon forgotten virtues.

A bell is ringing on the shore. Sound bounces wave to wave and lost in purple wandering a passing bee remembers that it cannot fly and hurriedly taking scissors cuts a fine raft of leaf, pointed as a ships bow and hops aboard to surf and glide on currents of the sky.

From the deep oceans light, Wayland sees and sends a whisper from his mind, the purple man is dreaming still among the many others of his kind.

“Its time to wake now, of slumber is enough. Zu needs to have its gardeners intact, its time to plant the Iris bulbs to grow in pasture and in desert before the ice comes back. Seeds of the rainbow must be sown on every track. When summer dawns on frosted fields, fingers of warmth probing into the hearts of seeds that sleep, come now its time for growing. Plough the furrows deep. When summer dawns on frosted fields, fingers of warmth probing into cold frost hardened hearts. Awake, its time for knowing!”

The purple man in forest sees green light of yellow globe is shining energetically its light on all, and one with all he walks in joyful song. Along a branch a leg is stretched, a long leg, there a person sits within the tree, smiling song of life,

“He's just like me!” the purple man does not intrude but curiosity is wakened as the man is standing tall and then is gone before his eyes of sight. A figure dressed in light, not vaporous, a solid man who flickers on and off he sees. The purple man perplexed is wondering, when at his side a figure tall and grey is standing, branches on his head, without a face in the full light of day. The purple man looks for the face, the seat of senses known to know who is it there and meets an eye as old as universe. The eye is looking for the same and as they meet in trap of combined senses all, there is a spark and purple man is travelling then, he is not in the planet Zu at all. The visitor who comes to show the way gives him a choice of paths to take, he forward walks along a narrow lane with strange and pointed leaves of maize. Rustling in the plants the other chases past, he greets him at the other side, and man of light is shining on and off out of the gate the purple man to guide. The rainbow bridge connecting all the worlds, the green path that all who live must share, the purple man looks for the visitor but turning finds that nothing's there. Then rippling wave of green comes flowing through the woodland and the day, it passes through all that lies before, and purple man is standing in its way. Green fire! The life! The sap of tree! I see! His spirit soars as Wayland flies away.

Looking down at hands and feet with rainbows shine, in great delight he finds he is not purple now but made of light sublime and at his step the irises spring bright.
Danielle Jones Mar 2011
i woke up today to the world
drinking tea and chaos,
as if nothing has changed,
like the ground hasn't collided and
caused the water to rise or the
fact that the government just may not
care about us at all.
the debt we are in could last us a century,
and i'm not talkin' about the government funds,
i'm worried about how luck is never on our side
of the dead green grass but,
we can get through this.
i've never been one for religion, so
when i catch myself saying that i have faith,
it's feels like marbles in my mouth and
the glass is melting to form
a sculpture of how we could be
little or we could be big,
but only time will tell in between the seconds,
and that moment we know which we are,
i'll turn to you and tell you if the faith
is still crashing on my bad days
and i hope you'll stick around if it isn't.
if you don't stay, the earth may quake
close to a 8.5 and it will go down in history of
how difficult it was to piece back
my grounds.
so even if the world stops spinning,
i'll still spin it for you like when you used to pay
for my admission and walk me to my doorstep,
like there was nothing more dangerous
than leaving traces of my footsteps across my dewy
lawn.
i'll spin it like the beer bottle with the foam
settling at the bottom, just so i can see
something fluid move because
sometimes being fluid is more beautiful than being
solid since solidity only has one shape.
so once you tell me that you won't be there to spin my bad days
to good,
i'll leave you alone, like i would the dead
carcass of the deer we hit two days ago in your rusty
volvo but don't be surprised if you ever
wonder if i dream about you
and when the answer is
only every once
in a
while.
© Danielle Jones 2011
Hannah Davis Nov 2013
I remember the first day I truly saw his beauty. The first day I stepped into his world. It was just him and I. Together we were unbreakable. We lifted each other up and binded each other's deepest wounds.
         His eye pierced through my heart and saw me purely and truly for the person I no longer had to disguise. He couldn't speak, yet said so much. I could hear him. I was proud to be a person to hear such a silent voice that spoke so big.
        It was his eyes. A human being can only dream of having a voice this loud in complete and dead silence. Eyes; such a small feature on a creature who could stand so tall. Yet, they overpowered everything else. They spoke for what was true and could tell no wrong. A reflection of the heart and soul, it was.
        I could see it. His heart was bigger than any human beings. And it showed so clearly. If only man could have such a heart like his, then the world would become completely pure.
        He knew me. He knew me like no other person  will ever know me. Not a single word was spoken and everything would be understood as whole. The secret was silence. Because in silence, that's when most will ever be revealed.
        Its true, a person never sees the world differently until they step into another's shoes. But we were in each other's worlds. Two worlds collided into one. There was so much meaning, so much understanding. He knew what I could never say and I knew what was never heard. It's what made us so unique. A heart's cry could never be hidden because when eyes were met, everything was known. As either broken or whole, he saw every crack and bruise and every opened wound.
        He knew my tears. As one sees as broken, he saw shattered, crushed and scarred. My heart was clear to him as if it were cut out of my chest and held up to his face.
        I knew his tears. Never once seen by any other except for one. No tears ever fell from his eyes but his eyes reflected a crying heart. I saw his hurt. How can one disguise pain to be so beautiful, so majestic? I saw more than people knew. More than people will ever know. He saw in me what was never revealed to any opened mind. I saw more in him than what met any ordinary eye.  
        The stars used to dance over us. The moon, a cresent, would smile down at us. I remember the sparkle in his eyes and how it reflected a world beyond. I watched the million stars dance  in his eyes that night. He had that spark that could out shine even the brightest star in the sky. His heart was radiant. They reflected that twinkle his eyes owned so well.
      He saw me. His eyes would go deeper than any surface and we would be left looking for more. He spoke to me through eyes that spoke for a heart so true. He consumed me with acceptance and love that I've never felt so powerful and obvious with any human being in my life.
        Being around made me forget all the pain. At times he'd look at me and wonder why I was crying and I saw the pain his heart would hold. I was never alone. He was always there to wipe away tears that would hold such burdens. And in those moments, another stitch would be added onto a bleeding and broken heart.
        I was not the only one broken. He was broken too. He was once left behind, unloved, not accepted. He filled in the holes of what could be missing in a heart and I did the same for him. We lifted each other up and binded the blood of unseen and seen wounds, until there was no trace of scars.
        Two broken hearts healing. One is so hard to care for. A heart acts as if a child would. It needs to be fed love. All the nutrients that act for love, acceptance, want and protection. No one wants a broken heart. They hold such deadly and toxic burdens unseen by blinding eyes. Some cannot carry all the weight of troubles without support.  A heart needs to be pampered to avoid being abused.
        We were each other's support. He was healing and so was I. Our hearts connected to make each other stronger and unbroken. It may be impossible to read minds, but it is possible to read a heart, if taken the time to read in between the lines; between the cracks and scars.  And we did that without even trying. How rare is that?
        In a moment so perfect, one will always think of forever but they never hear the sound of reality knocking on their door. How deafening can death sound to the ear sometimes. It was there. Not even beside us, but in front of us. A person can be so blinded to what is beautiful and the closest thing to perfect because perfect is barely anywhere in this world. But when beauty is found, we cling onto it because in darkness, it could be the only thing that shines. But when light dims and fades, then what's there to do?
        The sun set early that night. The stars fell from the sky one by one and crashed all around me. I could hear them break like fragile glass cracking and breaking beneath my feet. The one sound that was unbearably deafening. I didn't dare to look at the disaster coming forth. Yet I could feel the edges of the stars hit me all around. Soon enough, I could feel the warm rush of blood leave my body nice and slowly as the stars tore me to pieces. Clouds would forever hide what was wished to be seen that night. After the thousandth one shattered into millions, there was no more left.  They disappeared, vanished; along with the spark I once saw in his eye. My brightest star began to dim right in front of me. He started to disappear. In amazement, I could only watch him fade into the air right in front of me. My hands wanted to reach out and grab everything that was leaving so quickly, but i stood there as if paralyzed in place. The wind was against me, holding everything we ever had in it's hands.  All in one, with a great deal of force it moved on. As if a massive hole disguised as a disintegrating heart, the wind carried through, leaving the emptiness i never desired to feel again. I watched his new set of wings while he took a first and last flight away from me for forever.  He carried all the moments, all the memories and a broken and healed heart. I could only pray he'd get the first heart fixed for me while he was away.
          Here's to the first year without seeing his face. Nothing has been the same ever since. It's true, no one will ever know me like I was once known before. Two different people can be created throughout a tragedy. In one's eyes, it can be a beautiful thing. In another's it can be a nightmare slowly transforming into a reality. Throughout it all, some can grow and be created for the worse and  some for the better.
         I can still see his wings. They are still just as beautiful as he once was. They're combined with all the stars from heaven itself. That shine his eyes held once, still shine but differently. He shines even brighter now that he's closer to the stars than I'll ever be. They still portray a heart and a life of pure and touching beauty. And I experience that every time the stars dance over me, pulling me back in time to when there was just him and I.
       His wings are jeweled with every star above while looking down at me. As they shine, it'll set a reminder that he's never far away. For whenever I'm missing him, I'll look up to the heavens for the stars to connect us again. I'll close my eyes and be carried through time and know it'll be okay. Because every night when the stars of his wings glow, I'll watch and think of him. But from now until we become alike, keep shining for me. Above and over me.
K Balachandran Jul 2013
A forest adventure-we didn't plan it that way at all,
the call of the wild prompted us, is all I can now guess
hand in hand in to the woods we ventured like two possessed,
magical, it felt, we soon disappeared, from the eyes of curious intruders.

erogenous scent of damp earth, after the first sprinkling of monsoon clouds,
pepped up our interest in hunting mushrooms
popping up everywhere, like fragments of white clouds descended,
we pulled out, egg shaped mushrooms that came in to our view
the frenzy we fell in to,  possessed us in total,
after all we we are also young and hot blooded,

We competed like hounds in hot pursuit,
ran, collided with each other, fell down,
with a gentle thud, upon each other.
She did lay flat, face down on my chest,
I smelt,musk on her neck a slow intoxicant
and mushrooms hidden in her both armpits,
which I pursued and found out,we were getting hot,
in pursuit of each other's secrets.
the world, we had forgotten completely for long!!

We didn't see evening light melt and
darkness spread stealthily over the woods
that engages the robust body of the night,
from the rendezvous, of these secret lovers,
we sneaked out and saw lighted torches,
approach us from all four directions.

they zeroed in on us,"Who goes there?"
a harsh voice asked,
"This, do you know, is the holy grove,
of mother goddess, strictly  watched
for not to be get desecrated
by people who seek some sort of adventure,
such an act never goes unpunished,
we'll search you and find what you did"

We held out mushrooms before them,
and I saw each face turning  a lotus!
"where did you get this,? Oh! so much!,
Those are so rare and any one is able to pluck it,
only if mother goddess is pleased"

And then we realized this,
in that forbidden sacred wood,
between us a miracle has happened!
that pleased the mother goddess
of the woods,  the blessed presence,
aren't we then  the chosen ones?







,
The man in the moon
has a big conundrum
cause he can't always talk
to his good friend the sun
for he is tucked away,
kept out of sight,
for when the suns out
the moon sees the night.

There once was a time
he was part of the earth,
till a comet collided
for all it was worth.
The earth was surprised
with the immediate shock
and the loss of a massive,
great big piece of rock.

That great piece of rock,
far off it did zoom
from big brother earth,
now the man in the moon.
Every time
the sun comes to play,
the moons bigger brother,
'the earth's,' in the way.

His brother of course,
will pass messages on
but it isn't the same
as a chat with the sun.
But once in a while
the moon he can mix
with his good friend the sun
in a total eclipse.

When part of the earth
he saw the sun once a day
till that comet then crashed
and sent him far away.
But somehow they managed
their friendship to fix
and all with the help
of the total eclipse.

They get to catch up,
but not for too long
for they soon take there places,
go home where they belong.
The total eclipse
is a lifeline that ends
but for a short time it helps
puts together two friends
There is always a way to keep a friend!
3rd January 2015.
Happy New Year
to all of my friends here on HP.
Byron May 2013
There once was a man who said you could beat the world with your words. That you could conquer an army with the knowledge of a greater narrative and move the legions of many with the action of one verb. I want to believe who ever can recreate the frameworks our race. The foundational narrative of our moral ethic, the guidelines mankind has been leaning on for millenniums. I want to know a alternative story, with made up words and no respect for a-priori intuition or tradition but a legend of unabiding experience that is unlike any tangent or discourse known. I want to reinvent another codex.  

I saw god as the architect I consoled in the grand tree house, with the grand green house sitting in a curious English archway. The telescope room was laid with bricks and from it I could see all that made me content. I felt the time changing before my eyes. Whether I was in compromise or not was entirely up to the seasons of Zeus.

I am now never afraid of myself, I almost died and I remember it all. I have known fear and still revere the quenching of it's animosity. I am only a swerving flake of inner rind. I am all that is exhausted of my honest dive for humanity. I am me finally, a shell no more! Man is the helplessness of lost spatiality in his own timid surrealism. I have never been satisfied with the explanations no matter how exhaustive! Revisited by the techni-color outlook of the turning millennium craze. The alleviation of all hopes when they turned out a dead end inthemselves, a lost avenue of my childhood.

I guess we all wanted that age-old rampant abuse of youth in ways that were neither aesthetically pleasing or unifying towards our own, best. I was tired of the beautiful sprites I grew up with. I was tired of locking myself in closets at nights and rubbing my face into the it's knotted carpet floor. I'm tired of the songs that advocated joyful frolicking into the drapped daylight. The oddities grow old and the used up phrase are clique now. I lost my mind seeing the years of my language frightened by the sound of my own breath. Grow into yourself. I am done with you anyways. I am done seeing them engulf a titanic drift of colorful intentions; flirting around the grand bonfire of the uncreated experience. I am lost with them. I question more than just our own value and I resign my thoughts on themselves for their own wealth and safety. When you want it said so bad but the forces of those unforeseen, creative hives oscillate and never stop it's steps into the night-legend. Then the world ends and was never in out of tension. I electrify my time and run into the a.m. frantic like a monkey, waving around and jesting my arms. I'm tired of the old music, in with the artifacts who architect the reverberation of my heart.

Your myth has lived into the century and I can see your ideas into the lives of all maniacs and the honest young, the deranged youth. We are amidst a heavy tension, i cry again. I want my mother's words three times a day and more on my weak hours. I am content in the alien maze of my music and want only the childhood campers to love me like a king. They gathered around at night, around the campfire. They initiated the song and dance with gaiety rhythm; that was the nights stars collided into bedtime. The same night I was torn by the dreams of an old horrid man who gave me no name and no rest from tear and horror. What evil is an anonymous the Will that censors awareness and knowledge. If it kills

So what then of the tribal pack psyche we all inherit. In days where beauty was up to chance. Our proximity to a woman was determined by breeding patterns and the realm of funds available for travel and food. What now in these days of the internet? When the whole world is at the tops of our finger tips and even more far away is the understanding we gain of our inability to have the cream of the world. We are in a great exaggeration of ourselves, of our will, and of our determined out-come. We have little but the pessimisme of our predecessors to guide our philosophies application. The translation of dream-world is perfectly out of reach for us and always for our posterity. From here on out we are a new age. A new age whose gates are christened by the ungenuine thugs and malevolent brand names of our civilization. We are faking it till the end. I am scared and drilled by horror and filled more with black premonitions. I wish I had eyes to see myself with a more generous charity but I don't and neither do you. What you see is an age of outward anticipation for the soring ribbons of undone realities.

The artist is the one who has seen the broad fleeting wisp of an out-of-world innuendo. It is the ethereal encounter with a cognitive defect that mimic as a supernatural sensation, this is seen by the artist as true humanity and rightfully so as it brings him to tears.

I always forget that we are always on the cusp. That we are simply a few bruised years away from reveling in the stained, sealed golden sunlight of the age that has came. What we do now is entirely crucial to our ability to be in unending sorrow and remorse. We see our people in a clearer way, for what they where struggling with, for what their reverie finally came to look like, ugly or gleefully self created, their vision of the world will always be our continual source of inspiration.
Mitchell Duran May 2011
Assembly line broke down as the mirrors crashed and cracked.
"Angelina!!!" the crooked boss man yelled.
"Get in herre" the crook socks rang like bells.
Angelina poured sweat of the yellow blouse she had bought two days before for another interview in another office and another profession altogether. The room spun for her even though she would rather have it stay still.
"How much longer till this mechanism shifts and all of this stops altogether. Have their been madder women then me? Has there been madder men then me? Have their been madder times or are the times the same just with different tools and gears and nuts and bolts to tirelessly continue, heaving the corpses through the concrete cracked and littered streets?"
"Angelina!!!"
Another nail gun dropped to the floor, firing twenty rounds into fifty blue collared men's tie clips, deflecting them all to the near by wall which held the coats, the hats, the work shoes which the men were not allowed to wear due to "safety intrusions" and "labor union by lateral horizontal negative dairy laws". Another unfortunate fortune from the cracked mirror case but that, of course, is not the story, our story is...
"Angelina!!!"
Angy hurried up the hungry, empty metal n' holy stairs. She lost her high heels in a crack in the stairs but left them there due to the fear. 2011 had been a good year until she had been forced by her landlord, also her boyfriend, to get a real job rather then stuffing her knitted socks with her poetry and trying to haggle them to new age modern morons of the hip near sighters whom glasses were unintelligible but necessary. The mirrors of the conveyor belts reached the top of the platform but the door was shut. The mirrors bent and shattered leaving the splintered pattern of the world outside of them multiplied by the millions.
Noon was her lunch break and it was noon oh two. Angelina would be late with her lunch and the landlord, Nick, was planning to stop in with some home made sandwiches and home made potato chips.
"Nick will have to wait." Angelina thought to herself. "Nick hates to wait."
Angelina entered to stand in the wake of a shaking, sweating purse wearing, purse lipped boss boss. His hair was tossed to one side, struggling to hide his baldness. The subtelty of their relationship was difficult considering Angelina had slept with boss boss to get tossed this job. The act was actually enjoyable, Angelina thought him a good lay, but boss boss was not a fun person to be around, and he was a much worser boss.
"Angelina!!!"
"Hi."
"Your FIRED!"
"Bye then sir..."
"ANGELINA!!!"
"Yes sir?"
"AREN'T YOU GOING TO ASK WHY YOU WERE JUST SO HASTILY AND VIOLENTLY FIRED?"
"It is not my place to inquire why I was fired sir. If I was not doing my specific duty well enough I trust you, as my superior, to have thought what this subtraction would do to your company. If I had questioned you I would be questioning yourself as a boss and I would never want to do that...sir."
"VERY GOOD. DISMISSED!!!"

---

"So he just fired you, no explanation, nothing?"
"There was nothing really to say after the fact."
"You could have demanded an explanation."
"I was in a hurry to meet you. I know you hate to be late for our dates."
"That's sweet."
"And boss boss shouldn't have to explain himself, he IS a professional."
"He works in mirrors which doesn't make at all make him a ropes course supervisor."
"He's very handsome when He means what He says."
The home made potato chips had been burnt because Nick had fallen asleep while watching old re-runs of run marathons from the 80's. Nick had trained for the Olympics in 83' but while home after training and drinking an OK shake, Nick had stubbed his toe while drinking the OK shake and trying to get to a ringing telephone. Nick had collided so perfectly, so quickly and with such for that his right big toe had bent all the way back, his big toe fingernail touching the hairy patch on the top of his foot. The doctors said amputate the toe and save the foot or chop the entire thing off altogether. Nick, not being a dumb ****, opted for the entire foot. He never raced again.
"Are you going to try and get your job back?
"I don't know"
"Well. It's the 28th tomorrow and I need the rent either way. The insurance agency I'm with has been bugging me about percentages and utilities and...well, you don't want to hear about my worries."
"I don't mind sweety."
"Thanks doll. What're you gonna do?"
"Find more work I guess. I haven't written anything in a while, maybe it's a good time to get back on that train, see what comes up."
"I saw a help wanted sign at the mall nail salon."

---

Baby stroller wheels lined with pink and grey gum were lined up against the overwhelming glass wall enclosing the shops from the streets. Trees reflected green with the sun light lined across the clear wall. Birds flew at the top of the block near the ceiling crop, they wanted to come in but were confused how to do so. Children came through the valley with lollipops and balloon powder and strings lined with meats, they were headed to the capitalistic circus, a wonder land that only brought guilt from lovers and their future children's shame.
Angelina stood outside the electronic moment to moment receivers. She was afraid of not being allowed entry. Everyone entering entered easily, but what of she? Would she be accepted? Clicking her unpainted fingernail atop her leopard print clip purse and what was worse she had no cash to get her orange Julius or perhaps see a film if she couldn't conjure of the courage to stop off at the salon. That was why she had come here, right?
"Where had the salon been?" Angelina said aloud.
The mass of the mall was vibrating with a ferocious congruity. Through the fog of meaty torso's lay blank and content faces. Gripping their wares, their steaming quick food, some of it dropping to their foot only to be kicked around on the dirtied floor. At times a rat would scurry from underneath a traveling underwear salesmen to grab a piece of fried bread, half cooked meat, or small pieces of children's hair which floated softly down to the wet and mud streaked floor. Mall cops waved their sticks to each other, some kind of HAIL or CHEER that they were the one's in charge round' these parts and there wasn't nothing no one was going to do about it.
"Do I really want to work here?"
There was no choice though. Angelina needed to pay the rent or her landlord/boyfriend would kick her out on the street and from there, she had no clue where the blue sky would take her. Her parents, both dead thirteen years ago, would be a terrible place to set up camp, especially in a graveyard. Angelina's brother lived over seas working at a ***** clinic trying and failing to heal the weak and unwanted. He had tried to heal her through voodoo practices he gathered up drunk through his 6 month stay in New Orleans but it had only given her a bright blue and red rash for three to four weeks. She never longer trusted her brother with any kind of healing or "feel better" techniques and was no prepared to make the trek to Europe anytime soon, she was in a relationship at the moment anyway and she had a feeling she might be in love.
Angelina stepped through the glass exchanging doors in unison with a family that was entering at the same time. The door seemed to open for any body but was tentative if it would accept hers, this time, it seemed to.
Inside she made her way up "the miracle marbled stairs" which shined bright and blinded Angelina in certain parts of her eyes. They flashed bright red and greens and whites so visciously and fast Angelina thought she might have some kind of seizure. She planted her feet directly on each step as she walked up the 20 to 30 stairs, going very slow and gripping the handrail. People started to gather around behind her shouting "HURRY UP LADY" and "WE DON"T GOT ALL DAY" and giggling to themselves.
"Were they not seeing these lights?" Angelina thought to herself.
"Do you kind people know where the nail salon is?"
Angelina then realized that what she had just said made no sense. Her eyes were gripped shut, her hand tight around the shiny gold handrail, her feet pointed strictly out like some kind of paralyzed summer penguin. The people which had gathered behind her stood bare, jaw slacked, wondering who would step forth to help this poor helpless creature.
A little girl with red sparkled shoes and a orange bow atop her head stepped forth. She smiled even though she knew Angelina had her eyes tightly shut, maybe she would feel the warmth? The girl's mother reached for her so not to get to close to that "crazy lady" but the little girl pulled away, her father saying "If it's her time to go, it's her time to go".
"Miss lady with the tiger purse, I think the hardware nail pull on is on the 8th floor next to the people that sell bread with meat sticks inside."
The little girl stepped gingerly back as Angelina loosened her grip on the now stained golden handrail. She shook her hair out and ran her fingers through it, straightening herself up as if she were about to perform a song or late night poetry reading. Angelina opened her eyes and peered down at the girl.
"Thank you little girl. What's the best way to get there?"
The girl child said nothing. She pointed to a large metal box shooting up and down the length that looked like a rocket straight to heaven. People were gathered all around its foundation, oooing and ahhhing at the sight of the one's which entered. There was a sign over the line of tubes reading "A Shot at the Void".
"A shot at the Void..." Angelina tentaively breathed to herself.
Angelina stepped up the last couple glittering stairs and made her way through the thick crowd of stale clothes, cheap tricks, obsessed teeny boppers, hardware for wear, shoes with no laces, strips of bacon hanging from mouths, lettuce all shredded, soda cans with their lids torn clean off with small splatters of blood lined on the rim, and a perfectly painted fingernail was drawn on the number eight where the long lines and rows of numbers were there to guide the one's to the shot.
"Number eight. Easy enough"
Angelina pushed the button.

---

Inside the tube there was a slow light hum of jazz transfusion and children breathing. There were three little daughters gripping their mother's hands as they bit into their soda pop straws, ******* up the soda inside the plastic and cardboard cups. All three children stared up at her, maybe wondering what she was wondering, which was exactly what Angelina was wondering, a combination of mistaken telepathy, an accident of consciousness that would be never be talked about between the four of them but most surely existed between them.

Smooth as clay they drifted up the translucent clear glass tube, shooting skyward like a man made rocket shot from a man made gun. They passed shops hocking wears of angelic colors: clear pearl pastels shone through the clear blue glass shining into Angelina's eyes forcing Her to squint, dog barks could be heard through the whistling air begging for treats of black and brown, teriyaki chicken strips and duck heads spun absurdly fast with a rhythm that resembled the wave of a crowd at a baseball game waving wildly like children flying from swings never wanting to land in the sand; all this as the three and one flew higher and higher and higher.

---

Ding.

---

Angelina stepped forward, leaving the three children behind Her to fend for themselves. From the looks of the button they had pushed they were headed East. She gripped her bag and peeled Her eyes, twisted her hair in a tight knot to show her aggression, her vigor, her confidence and stepped into the rabid salmon like crowd.

She saw no signs of the nail salon. She saw only posters of rabbits holding artichoke legs and nail guns firing rockets of ice cream and corn bread. These were the mirrors of the supposed revolution but had nothing to do with her nail salon, she needed the cash and she needed it NOW! How hard were the numbers to acquire? How long must she wait before the envelope is sent and the letter read and thrown out? How long Lord, how long?

Questions for a time when the pay checks were easy coming and Her man was by her side. She passed by a little boy playing William Tell with her sister. An apple on the little tots head and in the boys a small, tight and silver ray gun. The boy pulled the trigger but only a small plume of smoke came from the top making the boy ball over crying and wailing and kicking and screaming, nearly catching Angelina in the shin, what a mess...The little girl stayed still in Her spot though because her brother told her "Now don't move a cinch." Wise move my girl, wise move...

At last! Angelina, reaching Her destination saw the brightly neon colored corner of her beloved Nail Salon. The windows shone with pure red glitter, miniatures of poodles lapping up puddles of ice water, women laying out on the sun to catch rays from the Earth, and husbands shaving their backs all in a circle and row.

"How beautiful..." Angelina breathed out.

She entered the store front. Greeted from every corner were beautiful young cupid like angels faces shining divine but with no torsos, floating heads of angels ***** but crying and smiling. Asking Angelina "What would you like today miss?" or "What are you after?", beckoning for her requests, begging for her touch of vulnerability and lack of knowledge of where she was or what she needed.

"Just an application...I heard you all were hiring?"

"Hiring!!!?" the cupid heads screamed in unison.

"You want to become one of us?"

"Yes, part-time...?" Angelina said hesitantly.

As soon as the words "part" had been uttered from Angelina's wise and brave mouth the many heads of cupid began spinning and spinning around Angelina's body. Faster and faster they spun until Angelina herself was spinning with them, unified in a quadruple hurricane stripping her of her former self and slowly manipulating her body, her hair, her other self into her new self.

As Angelina's torso lay in the corner of the store un-bloodied, clothes tattered as well as some scratches  on her elbows from the toss, Angelina's head was floating in the perfect center of the other three hovering cupid heads.

"How beautiful...how beautiful...how beautiful."

"Isn't it?" the three cupid heads answered.

"Yes, everything here is so beautiful," the four of them whispered.

And as soon as Angelina had entered, she just as soon had left.

END
Princess Lynne Jun 2014
He was the sun.
And she was the moon.
The distance took a toll,
the timing hindered their potential,
and their differences collided.
You see, their paths rarely crossed.
But when they do,
they could not get enough of each other
Noor Mar 2015
I thought it was cliché, when people talk about love
How "the moon shines brighter when you smile"
And "I see heaven in your eyes"
How thousands of songs were written
In the name of love

Then you came around
And I realized how everything was true
I saw the moon, shining in your smile
My heaven, is in the way you look at me
And thousands of stars collided in my bones
The moment you said I love you

I would spend eternity
Thinking about your hands
The way they touch
And your lips
The way you whisper
And I would die, over and over
If I would to die, in your arms

Love is not like the movies
It’s not like books, or songs
It’s not like anything I've heard
Or seen
It crashes sometimes, it hurts mostly
But it will always be worth it
Because love, is the way you bite your lips
It’s the way you hold your steering wheel
It’s the way you kiss my hand
Love is you.
Zacgabranth Aug 2014
You will go to sleep early to talk to your pillow.-Isaac Brock
The thoughts in my head were spinning around. It's all in doubt, it's all in doubt. - The Pacific Ocean

"Tell me why the stars are so bright?"
"They are made of gas which is constantly burning and the twinkling light is the result of that."
"You are simple"
"so what, I didn't listen to my teachers very well. you were the one who asked a simple question anyway"
"But was it?"
"I'm pretty sure it was, and how come you don't know?"
"I wanted to hear you tell me. Are you done with your video games now? I want to go outside"
"The game is almost over. Where would you like to go?"
"You always say it's almost over and yet it keeps going on and on. I don't know where to go, we should just go do something outside.
"Like what? I haven't been outside lately and there isn't much to do when you don't have money"
"It's not like we need to pay to go outside. You seem so reluctant to leave the house, who are you again?"
"How come you don't remember? My name is Bashful. What happened to you Jealousy?"
"I'm not entirely sure, something must have hit me on the head. We have to go now Bashful!"
"Why? It's not like there is anything that interesting outside."
"You have to come Bashful or I won't know how to act."
"Remember going outside always ends with disappointment."
"It won't be like that this time Bashful. We will find something fulfilling this time I swear."
"No Jealousy I don't want to go back outside. Id rather stay here in front of my screen."
"You know I'm not surprised much, after that last experience I can tell you don't want to show your face again."
"haha whatever Jealousy, just leave me alone."
"You are going to live with that disappointment forever Bashful if you don't let it go. I'm going to see if Envy wants to go and tell me when you change your mind. ok?"
"Will do."

"Wake, wake up you."
"What, whats happening?"
"Nothing at all you see that's why you gotta get up."
"But jealousy I was just so comfortable laying here, and the dreams were just about to start."
"You need to stop sleeping so much Envy, you will end up holed up in your room like Fear."
"Hmm, whatever you say. So what exactly did you want from me?"
"I wanted to see if you wanted to go outside. So do ya?"
"You don't seem yourself today Jealousy, why exactly do you want to go outside?"
"I feel so restrained in this place, and I'm not sure what there really is to do here anymore."
"You could just relax ya know like Content. He's been sitting there all day reading books and he seems fine."
"Yes he seems fine ,but he rarely even talks anymore. That last incident was just to much for him. Its as if he isn't even present anymore."
"You think too much, but ya Ill go outside with ya it's not like I have anything better to do. Have you asked Bashful?"
"I did but he's still upset about the other."
"I see. He sure is getting sensitive these days."

Jealousy and Envy then leave the house

"This isn't like you Jealousy. You have never been up to leave without Bashful with you. What's up?"
"I'm not sure..."
"Well you should try to sort things out before leaving next time because you don't look well now."
"It's the heat I feel faded and stretched."

The two walk down to the road

"What is there really to do outside these days? All I see is passing cars and others in the distance."
"Umm well I know Stress and Confidence usually go to the nearby station.."
"That's where they work Jealousy don't you remember. You've had to go with them once or twice now."
"Maybe, but the thing is I have no recollection of it."
"Something must of happened to you too during that last time out. You can recall that something occurred, but do you remember what exactly happened?"
"An other created a disturbance... I can sense it in Bashful and the rest of us..."
"Yes that's true but you have no idea of how it happened."
"I don't ya.."
"I guess Ill have to tell ya then, but lets get out of this heat first."

Jealousy and Envy walk over to a grass covered area with trees. Then Envy and Jealousy light up a cigg and resume their conversation.

"The day before, Stress,Bashful, and Coward had just returned from work and they wanted to head into another town to drink with friends. The rest of us agreed and we were able to get a ride. We arrived and thus collided into physical form."

Envy then shares the memory with Jealousy
"Who's ____"
"He's an artist she knows."
"Ohh ya, she told me about him last time I was hanging out with her. They seem to be getting along really well."
"Are you okay there___?"
"Ya I'm fine. I'm in the process of letting go. Are you ready to see if shes there? I want to get drunk."
"Let's go."

"Hey _____"
"How ya doing?"
"Fine. I brought my friend over too. Did you still want to hang out?"

The Memory Dissipates

"So where are you now friend?"
"I'm in a different place than before"
"Where is that? I've never seen you so distant"
"I think it's a place that doesn't truly exist. An imaginary space that confines it's only prisoner, me."
"That place doesn't sound very fun if its just you entrapped. Don't you have any visitors?"
"Once in awhile I let people inside, but then the space becomes distorted and chaotic with constant pressure to release myself"
"So you are the warden too?"
"In a sense I am but in another I'm not fully in control of that place."
"Who is?"
"I'm not entirely sure yet. I see a dark figure trailing me sometimes and I think it's the thing that brought me there. Though when I look back it disappears."
"Don't fade away ok?"
"I'm not gone yet. My mortality always brings me back, but someday I want to stay there."
"Why do you want to leave so badly?"
"I hate being here."
I thought it would be nice to start posting my writings here again. I don't necessarily like the direction of this piece, but it inspires me to write further so please comment away. I need it........
Lucero Oct 2014
Every morning I longed to be by my mother’s side. She was kind and true.
As true as the facts anthropologist find to prove our human’s roots.
They say we evolved from monkeys and such.
I say there is always lies in between truths.
My mother promised me to keep me safe.
She made my world a rainbow dune.

Her all natural perfume gave me the ability to touch the sky.
Her rhythm and tune collided to bring out a pleasant triad.
I touched the blue and white with my bare hands.
No, I did not hesitate, for she was kind and true.
She gave me life and spirit too.
So easily, I assume.

Now all I see is a flooded platoon.
I was all too naïve to believe in the wicked disease.
My surroundings were made out of candies and sweets.
I am disgusted by her attempt to keep my life platonic and safe.
My mother manipulated my innocence without a care of the sea.
She had forgotten to introduce gangsters, and demons into my docile life.

I was only six when it happened.
My beautiful, heartwarming mother took her life.
She abandoned me to face the demons all too soon.
I was thrown into the streets and lived a uneventful life.
Lee found me lying on the street with tears streaming from both eyes.
The rest of my childhood was spent watching Lee slaughter innocent souls.

I saw too much from my own baby blue eyes.
There were screams and body parts rapidly falling from sight.
I knew all too well that Lee was my savior, so I tried to fit in as an alien might try.
Too soon did I become what my mother would never praise and I did not put an end.
As children, we are too weak and need guidance to live.
We mirror what we see, no matter how wrong it may be.

I needed the right soul to look after me.
I did not have that and so I fell into dark tunnels, you see.
I am not to blame, so why blame the innocent and not those in fault?
Those that walked right past me when I was only six could have helped.
They had the upper hand, I did not.
I never did, I was just a little innocent kid.
This poem isn't about me, but about children who may have gone through this.
A P Taylor Jun 2015
Your pupils collided, in crescent moon
Venus and Jupiter approaching swoon
Spiral of rings extend toward the Earth
Dancing upon your laughter and mirth

Lovers sway in light of distant planets
Built solid on base made from granite
Together a joy and beauty past slight
Two becoming one that stardust night
es Oct 2014
in geography we learnt that there are
plates under us
drifting in underlying motion
it is said that when collided
brings with it an
ecstasy of disasters
i liken to how i feel at seven pm
on the train home
from work
practice balancing on metal plates
as faded sceneries
unwind before my very eyes
the occasional crash into strangers
brings with it a divergent of
careless intimacy
nothing stays long enough for a smile
just floating heads
a flurry in their tragic minds
don’t you know that it was you
who like the Pied Piper
drew me here to
this cross road where
my ideas collided with you
in a state of bewildered joy
pleasant surprise
in spite of some inherent shyness;
a tendency towards introversion
would not stop
this flow of words
even as the cloak of anonymity
fell apart
like a bee finds the nectar that it is due
Stranger, i found you.

- Vijayalakshmi Harish
    12.02.2013
    Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
A poetic conversation with Kirti and Aditya
Marshall Gass Oct 2014
the clutter of words taking wing
beneath the wide arms  of dense green oak.

the deciphering symbols now begin
as  parts of the mystery fall into place

one by one,  each piece reflects in a mirror
so similar to what I held up to catch the sky
and reason, fragments that collided in mystical shape
and formed into spirals seeking fresh answers

the dreams that haunted our togetherness for so long
and I languished in every stroke  of your poetic pen

now falls the silver cross and the lining in these clouds
that have twisted and turned me inside out

yet I've built a crucible of hope from endless hyperstrings
and pieces of magnificent beauty that I first saw

in your writing and significantly  stayed magnetised
by the unfolding of your life into my own searching.

I will stand here forever, watching, even as the sun dances
into  dark of night and my feelings grow a new pathway.

Author Notes

Optional
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, 2 months ago

- See more at: http://allpoetry.com/poem/11580728-DreamCatcher...-by-Marshall-Gass-noguest#sthash.3aDaqvOh­.dpuf
Christine Apr 2013
My best friend was worried about her grades last week.
That was, until her car collided with another.
Her seatbelt not used, she was flung from the driver's seat.
Blood everywhere, her mother now in despair.
Mourning faces at her wake, no words helping the fact.

My best friend was worried about her grades last week.
That was, until her car collided with another.
Had she not had her seatbelt on, she may have died.
Now with only a busted lip,
she can go back to stressing about her grades.
duhastnach Jun 2014
She had always been on guard with her feelings.
She never let her emotions rule her.
Yet that night…
that night was not different than any other nights.
She still felt lonely.

Yes, he was there
she felt him…
inside her
he touched her
but it was too superficial.

He touched her,
she felt him,
but that’s it.
Their bodies collided,
but never their soul.

Inside, her whole being was bleeding…
aching…
longing…
for that gentle, genuine touch
from the other
but all he gave her
were fierce and mighty
stabs of
uncertainty.

Yes, it was pleasure,
but it only lasted
so brief that when
she opened her eyes
he was gone.

She needed someone to complete her.
She thought it will be him,
but he was just another coldblooded bandit.
Stealing…
destroying…
everything he can
off of her,
leaving her wrecked
and sore.

She lay there…
her heart shouting in
pain rhyming with the
silence of the night.

She lay there…
her eyes closed,
but her soul
wide open.

Waiting….
waiting for
someone to pick her up.

Waiting…
waiting for
everything to fade into
oblivion.

— The End —