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Spenser Bennett May 2016
Nobody knows
What future holds
(We never get old.)

Nobody knows
How tomorrow goes
(We never say, "No.")

Somebody goes
Forgo abandoned homes
(Why don't we go?)
SøułSurvivør Sep 2015
---

i

blue grey clouds
of crushed
velvet

sunlight
tears
the
seams


ii

embers of
delicate peach
ignite flames
of fuchsia

the orb of
sun burns colors
away to ashes

blown into floes
of white
mare's
tails


iii

tiny bird
settles restless
on the
highest
branch

flits
away


iv

wind
through
the weathered stones
cries then whispers

luring
the children
who lie within our ribs
to break free
and sing
songs
of
play


v

mamalaria
cactus
wears her
wreath
of
pale
lavender
flowers

sings to
her babes
clustered
below

saguaro
listens



soulsurvivor
(C) 9/13/2015
beautiful day rises up
out of the ashes
of a flaming
sunrise

---

To a special friend...
... thank you!
In silence all do hear your eternal presence
All language is articulate- because of you is
Manifest.  When there was only time and
Silence one listened to the other and both
Were one and varied and all was always
Beginning and without memory still heard
.

When other songs are done it is to your voice
Alone rhat I will listen to:  to know eternity
ThatBrokenOne Jan 20
I want what you have, you want what I have
And the only thing we see in each others life
Are the good moments
The things, I think you like the most

But the opposite is true
We only see things we like ourselves the most
What we like about the other persons life the most
Are not the things they like the most

We should listen more
watch more
Feel more
Care more
Just to know someone else
And not only think about ourselves
He is quiet and confident
Always does what is right
Quite a conversationalist
When relevant

Believes in keeping to himself
In a place of unknowns
Knowledge and wisdom his strength
Diligent and optimistic an achiever in life
Simple and good at heart
Understands and complements mine

Loves romantic songs
I am just the opposite
Can’t stand any
Retro is the only station, we listen to together in the car

Has little understanding or
interest of what I write
Yet, always listens to/ reads my scribbles
Our choices and tastes opposite as can be
Not, when it comes to matters of heart
Wrote it for my spouse, Aditya, for his upcoming birthday( 6th September)
L B Nov 2017
What She Look Like?
  
…Like one
tenderly hushing
water in her lap
Elemental peace
No place to go
No more to be
…Like the ocean
in the background
of a photo on a warm spring day
belying
rage
and the random possible
thrash--

out!

at all guilty ******* in her path
Toss in the next sentient soul
who should happen to pass
within range
who should have seen
who should have known
what a storm could do….

Moody in the aftermath
and sorrier than rain
With the tide in retreat
grumbling excuses
Hiding out waist-deep in dusk’s Merlot
Waiting for night to sleep it off

to heal the rifts
cleanse the shame

Rising
yellow, bright— and

“What the hell happened, here?!”

____


Her hair
a winter’s tragedy of trees
upside down—
No wait— the wind has put her right
to ragged random branches
swaying, wet with intermittent hues
of dark and silver
caught in collar, flying inelegant and free
at the shoulders of the levee
tossed and softening shyly
sagging jaw and nose a stump of tree
All perspective changes…

if you watch a while—

She’ll raise her eyes
into the sunset
to catch an eagle
entering
flight

…and then you might…

___

She looks like—
a pudgy robin
querying grass
mud soaked
that hides the fire of her breast
tugging at a worm
more than half her length
“I will feed them, **** you!
Give it up, you son of a snake!”
_____

...Don’t miss her hour of music though
for anything
Encroaching darkness
from the rooftops
she listens to the hearts she breaks

Remember this in winter
she can give but she will take
it out on February
when you’re longing
for her
Only male robins do the singing; females do the choosing.  

There are very few recent  photos of me.  Thus this poem.
Ashleigh Black Jun 2014
I've lost the words to
say how I feel to someone
who no longer listens.
elaine Jul 2018
It feels as if I’m drowning. I can’t see up out of the water, and I’m to frightened to see what this place holds below. I can hear nothing but mumbled shouts and prayers. But no one listens in a place like this.

It is not peaceful being trapped underwater. You are left with the choice of letting go, and floating all the way up into the never-ending abyss. But you stay still, holding your breath while the demons in your head decide to come out and play. You often ponder whether or not you should have just ended it before it all went downhill.

The world would still be the same disfigured mess, but the only difference would be one less drowning soul trapped in a cage. Unable to escape. Unable to dream of a place outside this  hell.

We are trapped. Afraid and damaged. All sitting still holding our breath, waiting for a sweet release into open airs. Waiting for a thing never to come.
laura Nov 2017
i live with it injected into me
my phone listens to me more than
i do the people on the other side
and it gives me ads about my depression
got a state that’s leaking it all into the ground
and ran by a nuclear man
just who is the patriarchy? people
who hate science and the ability
to choose what others like

maybe one day i’ll grow ****, you just wait
before the earth sheds itself
of humans
lifeonLSD Sep 2018
Every once in a while I see you sitting on a branche

The beautiful nightingale in its form

Always singing exquisitly beautiful songs

Why the mind never stops seeking

To which frequency it belongs



With absolute stillness there is able to find

The music that plays, is made to hide

Verses that cannot put into words

What the galaxies describe



With a universal language

If one listens, can unwind

The wool of what is spun

Structured and wired

In the most delicate way

From the beginning to every gentle laced humn



Now fly away again; with all of the harmony lifting notes you sung



My love, for I will follow the thread

As far as there is no more

Untill I can feel the wind move between the feathers

And the beauty of true love sounds embraces my hearts warmth
visits from the nightingale
Sammie wells Feb 2013
She runs through the woods
panting for breath,
needing to rest

she listens out

dogs barking

they're growing closer
eager for blood.

She hears them in the distance,
Men,
she lets out a cry,
   
  weaving round tree trunks
going under Bush,  
they draw closer,
Her lungs feel crushed.

Her beautiful red coat
is covered in mud,
twigs and leafs,
what ever's under foot,

terror curses through her vains,
she's been chased for hours
feeling drained.

Startled by a blow on a horn
she comes to a Holt,
petrified she urinates
as footsteps fall in behind her

they're here!

Cornered now
her hair stands on end,
tears drop
as death creeps upon her,
She has no time...

The hounds pounce!
  
tearing
tugging
And ripping

They do their masters bidding!


Fox hunting a fun sport for all...

(SW)
Carter Ginter Jun 2013
White screens through teary eyes
Trying hard to show him the light.
But I'm afraid I'm too late
And too weak to beat fate.
And if he dies tonight
I don't know how I'd fight,
How I'd keep on going
Without our friendship growing.
So I pray to whoever listens
Please keep strength with him.
Give him the will to go another day
And then again tomorrow until he stays.
I can't make it through this on my own
I love him, please don't leave me alone.
Until the end, I'm along for the ride
Even if it ends in two suicides.
My best friend is slowly getting closer and closer to suicide. And I know I'm not trying hard enough, but if he goes through with it....I may be right behind him.
The uniVerse Jul 2018
Words are dead!
there I said it
words are dead
the words in your head
are in the past
the words that you said
will not last
fireworks that attract the eye
liar's words in the mind
an explosion of language
and then silence
they do so much damage
and cause violence
chasing words
feeling tiredness
healing words
are band-aids on the soul
a soothing to the ears
they're dropped in empty holes
for who hears?
who really listens?
words are dead
we have visions
images of creation
words are no salvation
just pointers
pointing to the infinite
still they loiter
words we can't forget
we hold them to our chest
like lifeless children
we always do our best
but the words **** them
and now all that's left
is dead...
dead words.
https://www.instagram.com/p/B0PHnWvHq_w/
shamamama May 14
Kolea sees the rising of Orion's belt
and follows the belt into dawn's day
He spent his winter on green pastures on an island
nourished by rainwaters which have fallen
swelling into rivers and red dirt

Plumage changes, reminding him of his return
to the Alaskan tundra
How can he know this path of
three thousand miles across ocean
to ancient nesting grounds
his grandmothers used?
What faith does he need to ride through
currents of air across vast waters to reach land?

He arrives in green tundra,
and finds his feathered brothers and sisters,
Seeking his mate,
they dance and unite,
then begin their nesting ritual,
Eggs laid, patience sets in

Time well spent, the eggs are ripe to hatch
emerging birds open mouths wide to
feed and grow strong--
Those bones, those feathers, those wings
must be mighty  
for the journey home

They watch the sky for the sign to return,
Some seekers who have called him papakolea
follow him now in double hulled canoes
praying to the night sky,
While papakolea listens for the
whisper of the dragon
thrashing across dark skies

In the middle of the ocean
he rides on dragon's breath
to find a pasture on an island
where he had fed a year ago,
Paddling canoes, tracing after stardust
from papakolea
they reach the shores and reunite to land
In this way
Seabirds and seekers
find reunion
Every May, for maybe thousands of years, the kolea (pacific golden plover birds) begin their migration to Alaska, to meet their mate, and lay eggs.They all return in August, to rest and feed up for the next migration. I have often wondered how they sense their traveling time--I have also wondered how the Hawaiians found the islands---and so a while ago, I wrote this poem, to explore this.  One of my Hawaiian elders shared that the Milky Way is "the dragon" in the sky, and as the Milky Way rotates in the tropical night sky,  the dragon is "thrashing" in the sky.
jerelii Jul 2013
Sometimes its better to be alone
Cause sometimes it makes you who you are
Discover and learn something new
You can freely do anything without others

You can decide easily without dictated by others
Its a free choice 
Nostalgic and soothe

It keeps reminding you of the classic movie from the old times
A movie that captivated your soul,mind and heart
Can touch each person's personality
With different ways and different perspective
With different style and taste
Each of us has their own world thinking

Someone who thinks they could fly outer space and go out for awhile
Someone who listens music in her entire life that makes her create a beautiful story out of it

Someone who hides feeling but had a different variety colors inside and out
Someone whose noisy but deep inside it covers the emotional side

Someone who can make you smile out of the blue
Someone who is less expect than yours and its simply amazing for you
Cause no one can say its either you
Is interesting nor me.

The lesser expectations the more it surprises you
Cause its just the beginning of the story
That you can't expect for more.
Andrew Aug 2017
Freedom flings
Tyrant kings
Into their rightful place
A head on a plate
Democracy inflates
The morale of the people
Oligarchy deflates
The idea that we're equal

Spiteful dictators make their way through the system
And dominate the world while nobody listens
Distracting people with things that glisten
Disseminating hatred as their vision
Engendering fear is their mission
To buy or sell weapons
For more money or more power
Dropping bombs from their ivory tower
From extreme explosions we cower
Explosions of hatred then violence
Explosions hastened by silence
Explosions of fire we ferment
To burn the faces off our enemy
To avoid exercising our empathy
Creating a world filled by entropy
People say ******* like freedom isn't free
When the currency we pay for freedom
Is restriction
We dampen our fiery feelings
With prescriptions

Freedom is free
It's inherent
It can only be taken or given away
It is not a proper excuse to slay
Those that rightly disagree
With what you're imposing

Freedom is fleeing far far away
When people are molded by clay
Of those with the power to shape civilians
Of those with the power to bring billions
Of people to their knees
When freedom is our fee
To live in timid apathy
Ken Pepiton Oct 2018
Honest,

that meaningless word left dangling before children,

a damoclean sword held fast in a gordian knot tied with scarlet thread,

finer than the spider's that once tied men's souls to an angry American God,

birthed in Transylvania,

over the woods, and through the dale, no lie

There is a tale of lies told in Nobel houses, never reachin' ground,

Down here, we situations manifested to, vain, again, stem the tide,

We flounder, fish out of water, why are we sent if

wait



he hears, he listens, haps he knows, and

how such as we came

to be here,

Welcome and see, dare ye ask me in? Might I ply you with lies

and you, believe 'em?

I could make a mindless robot out of your parts, but

that would take forever and

that's not how

Wisdom's child would tend to be, for first,

You must believe a lie and I, amusing as can be,

can't tell lies.

Discernment, fine points, per-spicacity per se, the only way.

Good luck (Luc, said luck in many tongues, is said Lose- as in Luc-ifer.

It means light, as in light, regular old granted light.)

Lightifier, good, take some, good light, for the travail, in the night.



You see, not so long ago, for me, five years before I'as born,

my momma moved to town.



What was that like, I axed my old uncle, while back,

movin' t'town, in 1943?

Well, he says,

We had electricity.



USA, 1943, some folks still was poor, and all the good men

was gone to war.

Cities, it was different,

if the movies got it right, Bowry Boys, n'em.



In the desert we did, okeh, in town, though,



we had electricity.



He was ten back then. He'd been huntin' rabbit's,

to buy Christmas presents from Sears and Roebucks,



since he was five.

C'mon, I say. No lie, he say,

BLM or some gover'ment

whatsajigger, was payin' 2 cents a pair fer jack rabbit ears.



'Said he bought Christmas presents for his mom and dad,

and my mom, with his first rabbit money, at five.



Shootin' with a single-shot 22, 12 cents a box,

Jack Rabbits, 2 cents a head.



Three Christmas presents, plus postage, $2.56.

Do the math, I think, and go -



Five years old, at ten, he moves to town, 1943,

we had electricity. That's all.
An older man than me gave a thought to ponder. Thought I'd try to share the bounty. This is read, by me at http://anchor.fm/ken-pepiton
Invisible Feb 10
I tried speaking to you today.
You were right next to me,
But you weren't listening.
Its not like you ever do anyway.
No one ever listens.
...
Tea Aug 2012
She walks by without a clue
Her bubbly personality and bright *** shoes
Laughter gush and spills, free and loose
Joyous even in the way she moves

She wears the world as hot as red lipstick
Explores herself and what’s not listed
Follows the rules but just has to break them
Sings in the night, when no one listens

The sun comes out when she’s ready to play
Curls bounce as she walks my way
She doesn't even know

Has never been touched with a lovers kiss
But she loves deeper than anyone I have met
Cares so deep, hugs so sure
Trusts so venerable, loyal for sure
She isn’t the rainbow
A color undiscovered
The flavor of happy, the taste of song
Flies like a bird, dancing in the lawn

Climbing trees, hanging in the park
Sharing her stories, girl likes to talk'
She doesn't even know that she is
My shining star, little piece of bliss
Showing the way when things get hard
Laughing when I cry
Cry when I laugh so hard
She doesn't even know
She’s my window in to happy
When it’s no ware else to be found
My excitement when my life is turned upside down
Noise that needs to happen
Hug I need to have
Person I know will be there
The smiles that’s for sure
Liesel you’re my happy pill
The one for sure cure.
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