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"deflected" poems
unsure, uncertain, of the laws invested in the realms and reams of poetry ingested, am i addict, or supplier, retail consumer or wholesale supplier, a mom & pop candy store, or a metastasizing intelligence that takes any thing, and all, a solitary letter, an instance of a sighting, a gasping palpitation and reformats it into a hehe literary madhatter^ piece you supply, I demand, I supply, boy oh boy, do I ever, but you never, come to me directly asking, write me a poem, thick or thin, witty fitty or an overly looooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooong e~pistle (a/k/a e~pistol) yet the trade goes on and om, the marketplace never closes, except when periodically the gatewaykeeper is slow to pay his bills, and the trading centres are global scattered, young entrepreneurs try to sell a single piece, as if it was breaking news history, and tired old men, review their lived, eager to memorialize, so it's ok to forget, in retro!spect perspective, the mirror who cannot lie, states affirmatively, you are both ****** and dealer, a corporation scientific of ancient biblical origins, a psalmist, a deacon, a lyricist, but thankfully not a singer, an essayist who writes best when ****** by tawny port wine, who snatches inspiration with equality of equity, (wait! that's wrong, the equity of equality,) where he can find, ***** city streets, the deaths of heroes, the sunrise calm miracle he drinks in daily, by rivers, by seas, by estuaries brackish, and streams of watered purity, the riveting bays, the individualized glisten deflected into my eyes, that each contains one pure blessing within….                                                 nml
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Sep 27, 2025
Sep 27, 2025 at 9:24 AM UTC
Supply & Demand, Demand & Supply
unsure, uncertain, of the laws invested in the realms and reams of poetry ingested, am i addict, or supplier, retail consumer or wholesale supplier, a mom & pop candy store, or a metastasizing intelligence that takes any thing, and all, a solitary letter, an instance of a sighting, a gasping palpitation and reformats it into a hehe literary madhatter^ piece you supply, I demand, I supply, boy oh boy, do I ever, but you never, come to me directly asking, write me a poem, thick or thin, witty fitty or an overly looooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooong e~pistle (a/k/a e~pistol) yet the trade goes on and om, the marketplace never closes, except when periodically the gatewaykeeper is slow to pay his bills, and the trading centres are global scattered, young entrepreneurs try to sell a single piece, as if it was breaking news history, and tired old men, review their lived, eager to memorialize, so it's ok to forget, in retro!spect perspective, the mirror who cannot lie, states affirmatively, you are both ****** and dealer, a corporation scientific of ancient biblical origins, a psalmist, a deacon, a lyricist, but thankfully not a singer, an essayist who writes best when ****** by tawny port wine, who snatches inspiration with equality of equity, (wait! that's wrong, the equity of equality,) where he can find, ***** city streets, the deaths of heroes, the sunrise calm miracle he drinks in daily, by rivers, by seas, by estuaries brackish, and streams of watered purity, the riveting bays, the individualized glisten deflected into my eyes, that each contains one pure blessing within….                                                 nml
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57
He came from a land unrefined; Encompassed by violence, poverty yet possesses clarity of mind. A mind built from Hardwork and Determination, A soul inspired by Intrepidation Freedom, Release and an infectious sense of inner Peace. They met in a state of flux, Going, coming, nothing left but to give it up, So heart broken, she took his hand, The adventure began on water but would end on land, Meadows, Beaches, Visions left them speechless. She saw a flash, a light; Precautionary measures tested the capacity of his might. Slow Down! She'd lost sight. Tried to keep up but her heart said "Flight"! Escape! Hide from the cruelty clawing from the inside. Time was chasing, they had to keep up, He left as she collapsed into the mouth of a half empty cup. She gobbled up the cup with no thought of tomorrow. "He is strong, he'll be fine," focus deflected from sorrow. Regret, Remorse, shall Fate be trusted to run it's course? Smiles and Mischief were all that could remain, She slowly began to learn to becloud fruitless pain, She's walked away from tough stains, In memory of his arms where enthusiasm never wanes. Growing, longer, when he returns she shall be stronger. If Fate knows Love and Love is true, Fate shall be entrusted to do what it do, But Fate can be twisted, Fate can be cruel And the little girl knew the twisted Power of Fate's Rule
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Sep 28, 2012
Sep 28, 2012 at 7:37 AM UTC
Him and the Little Girl
They might be few they might be thousands, They might have set out to conquer the suns... Their swords dripping blood of their enemies, Whose bones sharpen their weapons with ease... Sharpness of their blades are rendered dull, They cannot cut through that one adamant skull... They cannot pierce through that cold heart, Of the one born without fear from the start... They keep trying to shatter his soul relentlessly, But each strike deflected time and again tirelessly... The loss of ichor and sweat not felt as burden, Because a warrior's spirit is never broken...
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Oct 8, 2022
Oct 8, 2022 at 12:34 AM UTC
A Warrior's Spirit
I dreamed that dead, and meditating, I lay upon a grave, or bed, (at least, some cold and close-built bower). In the cold heart, its final thought stood frozen, drawn immense and clear, stiff and idle as I was there; and we remained unchanged together for a year, a minute, an hour. Suddenly there was a motion, as startling, there, to every sense as an explosion. Then it dropped to insistent, cautious creeping in the region of the heart, prodding me from desperate sleep. I raised my head. A slight young **** had pushed up through the heart and its green head was nodding on the breast. (All this was in the dark.) It grew an inch like a blade of grass; next, one leaf shot out of its side a twisting, waving flag, and then two leaves moved like a semaphore. The stem grew thick. The nervous roots reached to each side; the graceful head changed its position mysteriously, since there was neither sun nor moon to catch its young attention. The rooted heart began to change (not beat) and then it split apart and from it broke a flood of water. Two rivers glanced off from the sides, one to the right, one to the left, two rushing, half-clear streams, (the ribs made of them two cascades) which assuredly, smooth as glass, went off through the fine black grains of earth. The **** was almost swept away; it struggled with its leaves, lifting them fringed with heavy drops. A few drops fell upon my face and in my eyes, so I could see (or, in that black place, thought I saw) that each drop contained a light, a small, illuminated scene; the weed-deflected stream was made itself of racing images. (As if a river should carry all the scenes that it had once reflected shut in its waters, and not floating on momentary surfaces.) The **** stood in the severed heart. "What are you doing there?" I asked. It lifted its head all dripping wet (with my own thoughts?) and answered then: "I grow," it said, "but to divide your heart again."
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3.8k
The ****
I dreamed that dead, and meditating, I lay upon a grave, or bed, (at least, some cold and close-built bower). In the cold heart, its final thought stood frozen, drawn immense and clear, stiff and idle as I was there; and we remained unchanged together for a year, a minute, an hour. Suddenly there was a motion, as startling, there, to every sense as an explosion. Then it dropped to insistent, cautious creeping in the region of the heart, prodding me from desperate sleep. I raised my head. A slight young **** had pushed up through the heart and its green head was nodding on the breast. (All this was in the dark.) It grew an inch like a blade of grass; next, one leaf shot out of its side a twisting, waving flag, and then two leaves moved like a semaphore. The stem grew thick. The nervous roots reached to each side; the graceful head changed its position mysteriously, since there was neither sun nor moon to catch its young attention. The rooted heart began to change (not beat) and then it split apart and from it broke a flood of water. Two rivers glanced off from the sides, one to the right, one to the left, two rushing, half-clear streams, (the ribs made of them two cascades) which assuredly, smooth as glass, went off through the fine black grains of earth. The **** was almost swept away; it struggled with its leaves, lifting them fringed with heavy drops. A few drops fell upon my face and in my eyes, so I could see (or, in that black place, thought I saw) that each drop contained a light, a small, illuminated scene; the weed-deflected stream was made itself of racing images. (As if a river should carry all the scenes that it had once reflected shut in its waters, and not floating on momentary surfaces.) The **** stood in the severed heart. "What are you doing there?" I asked. It lifted its head all dripping wet (with my own thoughts?) and answered then: "I grow," it said, "but to divide your heart again."
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56
Fanatics fixed their eyes upon The screen to cheer their team The mood there in the air was tense Tricolor seemed out of steam The clock was counting down The time was drawing nigh Doomed to lose and head on home Bid Russia their goodbye An errant shot deflected out Gave them one last chance To score a goal and prance about Show off their famous dance From the corner, the ball soared in A hero rose above Mina smacked it with his head And won his country's love England shocked to see the win Snatched right from their grasp Colombia delirious Successful at last gasp And thus the game was sent along Into the overtime Two periods were played to nil Two teams full in their prime Penalties would now decide Which team would advance The locals glued to their tvs The nation in a trance Falcao scores! Kane as well! Cuadrado, Rashford too! Muriel then strikes one home Tricolor up three to two! Ospina blocks the next one Hypes up the frenzied crowd But Uribe hits the crossbar And the silence echoes loud Trippier knots it up again We're down to final shots Bacca fails to get his through Past Pickford's valiant swat Fate rests upon this final kick Well placed with perfect spin Just past Ospina's outstreched hands Dier seals the win The cafeteros reel from shock No sign of jubilation But still the crowd, crushed in defeat Show their appreciation Colombia eliminated We give them all a hand And though their World Cup here is done I'm now their biggest fan
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Jul 4, 2018
Jul 4, 2018 at 2:58 AM UTC
Adios Cafeteros (an ode to the Colombian national team)
The ranch-bound bovines, in dehydration, yet wary of Kool-aid, declined to drink. They grazed in wonder, cowed rumination: where does “beef” come from?  A herd tends to think of pasturage, water, and basic needs. Ranch-hands assured them all was in order; privileged guests enjoy the finest  feeds. Cows, content on this side of the border try Buddhism, yoga – or simply gaze… though things in the distance loomed ominous (those lots at the edge of the well-hoofed ways) – and a stench wafted into their consciousness. Yet calves frolicked on while the bulls mounted heifers – dreamed vegan dreams as they nibbled grasses some earned doctorates, others went clubbing; all loosed sustainable methane gases. Soothing their calves with fables and stories where cows are the measure of pastured life they deflected the gist of the young ones’ queries, affirming that Truth means avoidance of strife. “It’s best to just graze. Don’t ask questions dear. We’re on this planet without any clue. We evolved. From just what is a little unclear – but Cow Science has proved that it’s true.”
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Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 8:35 PM UTC
When Cows Come Home
The Village was nearly swallowed by darkness, Until I stumbled upon a fresh fluorescent light, Emitting an eerie glow out of a subtle all-night diner. Suddenly, eyeballs projected a noir-style movie. This unique heaven lit a cemented pathway, Which led toward nowhere but American desolation. Exploration of blank stores was not an option; A disconnected joint across the open street was obvious. The cornered beacon called to me as if dreams lived, Though the seamless wedge of glass deflected observation, Onto the viewer I represented, isolated from the anonymous. Lungs were not interested in Phillies, only graveyard shift. The scene held four strangers shut in spacious congregation. The figures filled in the white void with physical presence, While each owl was remotely lost in their own thoughts. Was it the tragedy that occurred at Pearl Harbor, Possibly the hopelessness World War II offered? Could it have been the disappearance of happy innocence in ’42? Hopper alone can probably discover a whole to the loss of words. Somehow the constructed simplicity was overwhelming: When late night minds meet morosity yet still produces beauty. Subjected into one, the loneliness of a large city can exist too.
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Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 2:50 AM UTC
Nighthawks
You would love me more if you knew the things I don't say love me more for the tears repressed/unseen the thoughts that rise yet fast sequestered, virus quarantined, lest infection spread occasional moan groan an Ebola moon June escapes, inquiring ears overhear and ask... but quick deflected with a ** hum, nothing luv, pushed back into the hidey hole of opprobrium and acid reflux why why suppress if loving you better the net net of it? this is not the candy coated, but the coal glow strife that cannot be quenched nor solved with anti-pain meds so put away, aside, push back inside you would love me better for the sharing, but love me enough for the be I be, let my roughened edged pains, be buried with my remains a love unfettered will place no obstacle before you from within me love me for the man I am, just the average man iam, knowing that not knowing all, not a deceit, but a reprieve, what I share, strained and sleeved, tho unrelieved, it is relief that burdens but, only me
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Nov 1, 2014
Nov 1, 2014 at 11:08 AM UTC
you would love me more
Evil intentions of the night gets deflected by moon's vigilance, she raises her lamp above the clouds, night taken aback, prowls behind the shadows.
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Dec 2, 2012
Dec 2, 2012 at 9:56 PM UTC
Moon's vigil
~~~ *to whom do I address this? to whom do I forward fling, weep and sing, this bequest~request, prayer~cum~worship~cum~blessing~cum~ howling to and upon? where shall I commence? for there is no beginning or end, resurrection, a continuum, a progression permanent, from inside out to harmonize, coordinate, what the outside has taken leave to inject, insert, to our selves query, our life hood very, impoverish our senses and still, and yet, to ever inspire and seed relief do you possess that requisite belief? that all that is illogical, beyond sensory comprehension, that all is a steady running creek of fluid starting points, none that can be deflected, nor forever held that all, being demands unchosen but acquired, that all, demanding constant reflection, and realization that the acceptance mystery is but a molten crucible wherein wonderful and awful must of necessity, coexist so you alone must construct, what chance desires to destruct, weld the joints of new iron works that require the bonding of a special solder of asking and acceptance, to be the special soldier of acceptance overcoming that which we can never accept, yet must be purposed to build high the edifice, to stand upon the crane, to look down on what has been lost as well as not yet gained, and that requires saving to see the far, observe the near, merging both into a single point ring alloy, manufactured in order to never forget to be forever certain, it is within our assured power to comprehend and apprehend belief in blessed resurrection where there is no birth nor death, no start nor finish, just the munificent satisfaction of lawful acceptance, that all we build of any matter, that which we create, cannot be destroyed, but will be recreated, for that is the purposeful meaning of resurrection now and every day forward* Atlanta, Georgia Nov. 16, 2014
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Nov 16, 2015
Nov 16, 2015 at 5:40 PM UTC
The Resurrection Blessing
~~~ *to whom do I address this? to whom do I forward fling, weep and sing, this bequest~request, prayer~cum~worship~cum~blessing~cum~ howling to and upon? where shall I commence? for there is no beginning or end, resurrection, a continuum, a progression permanent, from inside out to harmonize, coordinate, what the outside has taken leave to inject, insert, to our selves query, our life hood very, impoverish our senses and still, and yet, to ever inspire and seed relief do you possess that requisite belief? that all that is illogical, beyond sensory comprehension, that all is a steady running creek of fluid starting points, none that can be deflected, nor forever held that all, being demands unchosen but acquired, that all, demanding constant reflection, and realization that the acceptance mystery is but a molten crucible wherein wonderful and awful must of necessity, coexist so you alone must construct, what chance desires to destruct, weld the joints of new iron works that require the bonding of a special solder of asking and acceptance, to be the special soldier of acceptance overcoming that which we can never accept, yet must be purposed to build high the edifice, to stand upon the crane, to look down on what has been lost as well as not yet gained, and that requires saving to see the far, observe the near, merging both into a single point ring alloy, manufactured in order to never forget to be forever certain, it is within our assured power to comprehend and apprehend belief in blessed resurrection where there is no birth nor death, no start nor finish, just the munificent satisfaction of lawful acceptance, that all we build of any matter, that which we create, cannot be destroyed, but will be recreated, for that is the purposeful meaning of resurrection now and every day forward* Atlanta, Georgia Nov. 16, 2014
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81
A Load of brushes and baskets and cradles and chairs Labours along the street in the rain: With it a man, a woman, a pony with whiteybrown hairs.— The man foots in front of the horse with a shambling sway At a slower tread than a funeral train, While to a dirge-like tune he chants his wares, Swinging a Turk’s-head brush (in a drum-major’s way When the bandsmen march and play). A yard from the back of the man is the whiteybrown pony’s nose: He mirrors his master in every item of pace and pose: He stops when the man stops, without being told, And seems to be eased by a pause; too plainly he’s old, Indeed, not strength enough shows To steer the disjointed waggon straight, Which wriggles left and right in a rambling line, Deflected thus by its own warp and weight, And pushing the pony with it in each incline. The woman walks on the pavement verge, Parallel to the man: She wears an apron white and wide in span, And carries a like Turk’s-head, but more in nursing-wise: Now and then she joins in his dirge, But as if her thoughts were on distant things, The rain clams her apron till it clings.— So, step by step, they move with their merchandize, And nobody buys.
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1.7k
No Buyers
I originally wasn't intending to be a poet But I was a wizard and didnt know it You casted a spell on me that I never could of deflected But I took all the good it injected And made the numbers projected. My juices were flowing like they were supposed to Into new waters.
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Dec 14, 2015
Dec 14, 2015 at 11:41 PM UTC
Injected
I consumed a small vial of courage today. And it got me out of my mind, my aches and my bed. It got me showered, dressed and out the door. It helped me on the bus, through the rumble of the exhausted engine. It deflected the stares from eyes who seemingly judged. It placed me at work. Fuelled me through the sledgehammer ticks that echo never ending seconds. And I eventually find myself home... So I consumed a small vial of courage today. And I'm brave enough to admit that I'm afraid. Afraid that I may be running out.
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May 31, 2017
May 31, 2017 at 8:52 AM UTC
Courage
Gentle rain, deflected deftly; their hammock under oak Memory made, indelible; sweet; neither of them spoke Grey sky's pallet, infinite shades; their gentle touch invoke a pair of foreheads, gently meet; new love, within, awoke
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Oct 21, 2014
Oct 21, 2014 at 11:57 PM UTC
Honeybees
It's the path to righteousness Put a five dollar bill in the plate Then be as iniquitous as you like And your life will turn out great. Put in a buck or two, maybe more It's a method known since 1147 In an urchin's hand and you score. Anyone can buy their way into heaven. It's the fake as hell, flaky as well Bend and stretch Holiness Twist. Do what you like, namecall a **** Cleanse with a twist of your wrist. Donate a dime, go commit a crime To church Sunday, be Jesus kissed Suddenly resurrected, sins deflected You're an ace at the Holiness Twist. Appearances are most important In the big holiness game of life. You have to have the big house The big car and flashy wife. You have to have the perfect lawn With the current rage of shrubs. You have to wear the right clothes And belong to the right clubs. But the biggest thing to accomplish To keep from seeming totally odd Is you have to have the right and Obvious choice for your god. It has to be the right kind of stuff; It can't be Eastern unless it started Back when there were miracles Like when the waters parted. It's the fake as hell, flaky as well Bend and stretch Holiness Twist. Do want you like, namecall a **** Cleanse with a twist of your wrist. Donate a dime, go commit a crime; In church Sunday, be Jesus kissed Suddenly resurrected, sins deflected You're an ace at the Holiness Twist.
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Sep 25, 2016
Sep 25, 2016 at 8:25 PM UTC
THE HOLINESSS TWIST
On her knees Willing to please Hands connected Questions deflected fall from grace disgraced face ****** tears human fears “What have I done?” Orphaned daughter Afraid to hear the answer From God’s son
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Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 4:49 PM UTC
SIN
See this handsome cave man, his lovely dove by his side; in a metro train, we sit close by, I threw a gentle smile, to be civil, but really I wanted to make him smile, that way we both would gain, he deflected as if it was a missile, stared at me as if his stocks went up in smoke, that very morning. The dove, was dazed like a zombie, we live in a difficult world, unreasonable, that's why 40% of this world hope something would stop it's turning soon! "no use running away form immediate reality" dad used to tell us, over and over again, "when the seeds are sown as karma, why, run without reaping the harvest, each time when you do something, better be aware, of the result, or else...." but the cave man doesn't care so I took him by his scary horn, invisible, "You need to talk, you look too stuffed up, so, chances are  that, you'll burst soon" His eyes I could see, protruded, face contracted,  symptoms of belligerence? is it a  fight next? "Wait "I said, "My cave man friend, for long I was a cave man myself I used to fight, even with insects" then came one day starlight playing with wet earth on a clear night, did the trick, it was like a vision so sweet, I became aware of life's worth; it's time to stop all nonsense we are in to" **I saw him smile, he wasn't a caveman any more, his dove was flapping her wings in happiness!**
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Aug 7, 2012
Aug 7, 2012 at 1:13 PM UTC
Astonishing 'cave man incident'
Snake slithers with an unborn innocence Unintentionally menacing Drunk on a soft symphony Razors pierce the sins When questions are deflected Not a word is spoken But glares unbroken Even when its body wraps around the neck Hissing whispers to control your emotions Look out the window of a newly found prison
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May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 5:03 PM UTC
Habit
Detect emotional obsession. I confess I'm obsessed with Conversational progression. Agressive, kinda reckless. Something restless. Only restless from these Restless nights... Depression? Congregated thoughts don't Cause emotional recession. And rejection Is the only way my pride can be Deflected. Forgive me, I am feckless. My mother gave me life, and yes I see that she regrets it!
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Nov 13, 2015
Nov 13, 2015 at 8:28 AM UTC
Relentless
it has become cliché we know the once delicious alien names are only everyday not fiercesome not fiendish not promises of blood drenched daggers anymore. these names were standards rally around the flag wear the flag proudly pin-striped lapel on porch on bumper these names fail fall flat we must seek something new flavored with just the right taste of wet iron new rallying cry to gather in constructed terror behind architecture unknown shelter united deflected covered wrapped against this shiny new promise seductive new enemy more toothsome sharper and we are re focused dis- tracted bound to- gether against new pre- fabricated foe with tasty new name and we can watch mouths agape drooling fascinated seduced titillated the new-fashioned series waiting for next exciting episode while outside elsewhere plump ravenous generals masticate digest defecate small carcasses empty skulls shredded skin under a building-powdered once golden dome
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Aug 27, 2014
Aug 27, 2014 at 1:56 PM UTC
Dedicated with love: to the Jewish Lobby
Death stole a soul from its earthly place no other can fill the empty place for thirty years each one gave A little and then a little more in time mathematics over ruled and was disallowed two became one. The heart Of love ever watchful try as you may the bond unseen unshakeable unbreakable this spouse this was the Only house my soul has found unending rest within these walls our ease measureless as infinity. We can Search earth and universe but not one glimpse, it was one of a kind just one face. Commitments watchful eye never allowed disorder steal away even while surrounded by friends these Eyes fixed to yours through them pour each moment love’s torrent we go to distant habitations passing On always to carefree laughter oh this stronghold our union has made only lions know these privileged Paths we walk together hand in hand a man and a woman who tasted fruit as it had to be back in Eden Purest delight no dark turning only the light drenching quenching every longing. Time was the banner unfurled our covering protecting shield over head rain and sun deflected as we Strolled past ruins of former days then it spoke softly of permanent connections that always flowed into Promise filled tomorrows to soon it would speak of unbearable sorrow. The one would be left only as a Half plunged from brightest light into darkest gloom, people still stir and go about their business I walk By them they are whole while I walk in half light and I am blinded and confused once everything made Sense. Now only senseless starved for a single meaning anything to stop the pain. Moving forward is the only constant it leads to only more desperate pleadings that go unheard through Black and twisted dead wasteland I feebly stumble I see you momentarily only to have you vanish if only I could pass into the forgotten world where memories were unlawful and strictly enforced but then I would lose you again no soul could survive that torment. Though tears flow unbidden in them you are Alive they hold within their fiery drops the unquestionable hope of that eternal tomorrow.
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Oct 22, 2012
Oct 22, 2012 at 10:55 AM UTC
Separation
Death stole a soul from its earthly place no other can fill the empty place for thirty years each one gave A little and then a little more in time mathematics over ruled and was disallowed two became one. The heart Of love ever watchful try as you may the bond unseen unshakeable unbreakable this spouse this was the Only house my soul has found unending rest within these walls our ease measureless as infinity. We can Search earth and universe but not one glimpse, it was one of a kind just one face. Commitments watchful eye never allowed disorder steal away even while surrounded by friends these Eyes fixed to yours through them pour each moment love’s torrent we go to distant habitations passing On always to carefree laughter oh this stronghold our union has made only lions know these privileged Paths we walk together hand in hand a man and a woman who tasted fruit as it had to be back in Eden Purest delight no dark turning only the light drenching quenching every longing. Time was the banner unfurled our covering protecting shield over head rain and sun deflected as we Strolled past ruins of former days then it spoke softly of permanent connections that always flowed into Promise filled tomorrows to soon it would speak of unbearable sorrow. The one would be left only as a Half plunged from brightest light into darkest gloom, people still stir and go about their business I walk By them they are whole while I walk in half light and I am blinded and confused once everything made Sense. Now only senseless starved for a single meaning anything to stop the pain. Moving forward is the only constant it leads to only more desperate pleadings that go unheard through Black and twisted dead wasteland I feebly stumble I see you momentarily only to have you vanish if only I could pass into the forgotten world where memories were unlawful and strictly enforced but then I would lose you again no soul could survive that torment. Though tears flow unbidden in them you are Alive they hold within their fiery drops the unquestionable hope of that eternal tomorrow.
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21
On an isle far way. Lost throughout the seas. A temple lies behind the mist, beyond the realms of you and me. The corridors lined with the likeness of men in stone. Pirates, sailors and knights who braved the seas and the tentacled beast. All to win the maiden treasure the temple keeps. Now the maiden hides alone. Alone in the tower with her lover encased in stone. Black tears from her eyes stain the silk of her gown. Mourning the memory of her lover drowned. She had not meant to take his life, but she could not resist the temptation of loving eyes. Loving eyes she'd never seen. Her strength giving way to selfish need. Her slithering hair speaks "He was not right for thee." Jealous whispers , lies straight from the serpent's tongue. But now she could take no more. A concealed dagger to silence the beast for sure, but the beast saw the dagger's shine. They deflected her in the serpent's way. Clammy bodies wrapped around her throat. Gasping breathes echoed from the drowning host. Once she fell onto the ground, they disappeared into the sea without a sound. Now she lays cold beside her lovers stone. Now joined together in the world below.
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Oct 30, 2013
Oct 30, 2013 at 4:40 PM UTC
Medusa
*Colliding Comets We collided like comets. Travelling aimlessly in space. Following the elliptical orbits of forever. When we hit the heat Was like a furnace. Energy collected from infinity Released in a blinding flash. Our masses coalesced We now travel as one deflected into an unknown orbit. But no longer alone. Exploring space and time finding new wonders together. until we return again in a thousand years*
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Sep 1, 2015
Sep 1, 2015 at 8:47 AM UTC
Colliding Comets
A gentle hand, with reassurances steadying the heart under a barrage of threats, of anger my shield against the world's waves of insatiable hate His love and constant kindness deflected barbs of my fury the icy indifference I affected after every argument The world is full of fathers who don't know how to love I'm one of the lucky daughters, with sunlight in his gaze Pride, delight in me and in each of my siblings. Every time I whisper, "Dad, I miss you" I am telling him I learned from you, how to love to stand my ground that family must always come first You taught me laughter joy in the simplest of things to forgive flaws in others and how to forgive and give of myself.
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Jan 6, 2013
Jan 6, 2013 at 3:16 AM UTC
From My Father