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KM Hanslik Sep 2018
We've been out here swinging for a while now
tearing at your throat like there's no tomorrow
And I've never been one to stand aside or
stand in the way of change, but she's got us on one hell of a ride
hanging over the sides now
trying to get my bearings with my guard down
standing over the edge now
we've been playing both sides, don't let us hit the ground
it'd be one too many if we went down tonight
can't catch a break wondering is the timing ever right
can't catch my breath but it's over now

passing in phases like the last round
the last scene before the grand finale
dialogue caught in tatters like you've a mouth full of razor teeth
touch my cheek
kiss me only when you feel like it
(we were there just last week)
take this dose and space it out, I need
my portions small like my dreams
always on to the next faded scheme,
it's okay though because my vision's 20/20
and I don't mind chasing
the hard-to-get things.
Spenser Bennett Feb 2016
There's an impossibility standing adjacent to the nearest star bound body
It waves and beckons with a sincere familiarity so unnaturally
I am the end of the undulating tunneled vision
I am become a silhouette of a dead city caught in the decaying story bones fiction

We are all emptiness and our emptiness is how we define ourselves.
But our emptiness will become a river into which we will find the world to be held.
The universe exists in the eyes of those who live without the sight to see
Those breathing, freezing stars that burn into the heart buried deep.

Constructs of will and portions of strength cut out the guilt of my youth
All roads lead to the sky but I will not seek to understand you
Futures are made in blinks and beats
Are they aware of the way we lay with our tangled feet under these threadbare sheets?

Follow the light of my darkness
A single shot of whiskey and a conversation whisks away my heart's hardness
All cool and breezy across the great green oceans
I'll meet you halfway between loss and a facsimile of dreamed emotions
Carter Ginter Sep 2018
This darkness encompasses me
As it claws up my spine
Digging it's nails between each vertebrate
Until it can slither between my ribs
Moving so smoothly
Like a slow, deliberate dance
Stability and chaos
Intertwining, touching
Darkness against light
A beautiful poison
Ripping holes in my lungs
Like acid on skin it eats away
At the soft tissues
Holding myself together
Carefully destroying
The portions of myself
That try to keep living
As each inhale enters
My body grips the fresh air
Refusing to release it
As my emptiness is filled with air
Pushing out all feelings with
The warmth of blood
And keeping me calm with
The sweet promise of death
Kevin J Taylor Jul 2017
The first poem takes place during the lifetime of Lord Buddha.

The second poem follows in the years soon after Lord Buddha left his body.

The third poem is the mind of the boy (the spirit of the boy in the first poem) in restless meditation. He has yet to attain full enlightenment. There are multiple voices suggested by parentheses and which are whispered words. If you prefer linear thought or literal interpretation this poem may not communicate to you. Just as a painting may be abstract, this poem is wide open to your own connections, thoughts and emotions. If you like, you can skip to the fourth poem.

The fourth poem, in three lines, lies within this portion of eternity that is forever present time.


Boy runner (the first poem)
"""""""""""""
Approaching Gautama where He sat a
boy examined Him politely. (This-that?)
Gautama spoke and there the unnamed boy
who sitting a while with Him that day thought
and over the days ahead returned and
leaving only for food, drink and service
that Gautama would not be distracted
from His goal until upon returning
he saw Him glowing in the morning light
and so began to dance with Him beneath
the tree. A leaf was shed, was gathered then
and the boy, who while tucking it away,
Gautama asked if he would run for Him
to village, crossroads, field, grove, wherever
Gautama wished to speak. And so he ran
and soon arriving announcing thus His
coming, holding high the leaf he carried
and which had never died— living, living
green until Lord Buddha left His body.




Depths of Green (the second poem)
""""""""""""""""""""
Depths of green—from canopy to forest floor
In streams of raucous livingness
And there, and where about, a sanctuary
Falls in heaps, in stone walls run aground.

And with, nearby, afar, by ins and outs
Through every place (perceived)
Wherever listened for—vibration.

A single voice in Pali—a single voice
Leaping, leading, dancing, sweeping.

Hello. You greet me.


And if I split myself and stand (the third poem)
""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""
And if I split myself and stand
At every corner of said universe
On any selfsame summer day
With any selfsame afternoon rain
Will this, though thought, slip
Where densities of interest fail
(Or by failures to perceive)

This leaf-boy-runner
Eight portions of beingness
The full, and fill of prime creation

(Perhaps where life has paused
Or slowed enough to perceive
At any speed
The speed of perception
The true speed of light
The wavelengths of laughter
And of any thing)


While density shifts
Where inertia has failed

(The density of my interest
The shift of my affinity)


There is no doubt
It has velocity
It gives back light
It bends the universe
It has location
From which expands
All space
Not already filled
With the logic of otherness
And even there it bends to will

As (my breadth of vision)
A torrent
An avalanche
A fissure in nothingness
A co-creation of All
This theatre
Our audience
Of stelae
Beacons of lostness
To wander by
In search of wavelengths
Of affinity
Where you might
Where I have
The curves beneath our frequencies
The pitch and roll of their design
Their width

(We have
Each other)


In all that vastness
An ordinary leaf
From this
For that
(I am)
The breathless
Runner


Cool in the shade (the fourth poem)
"""""""""""""""""""""
Cool in the shade
(still) dancing
with Lord Buddha
.
Not all poems survive. I've lost a few and let others go. My current collection of poems is available on Kindle. It is called "3201 e's" (that is approximately how many e's are in the manuscript which is a very unpoetic title but a reflection on the creation of poetry with common things.)
Luz Hanaii Jan 2014
Many people eat, or shall I say swallow or devour their food too fast.
First I pray over my food blessing it, giving thanks for its source
of nourishment, I give my genuine appreciation for what I'm about
to eat.
I take a bite, zip or small mouthful, savoring eat bite, chewing carefully
for a very long time, without haste, without the feeling that I must
quickly satisfy that hunger feeling.

I am able to detect each and every flavor of my meal, the salt, the sweet,
or tangy flavors, each and every spice in that meal.
The more I chew the better my digestion will be.  I also eat in a mind of
gratefulness for this meal the earth and the hands of my brothers have
provided for and brought to my table.

Small portions become filling and I don't require a second helping.
I make peace with my food, my digestion and my surroundings.
This is not a time to plan, worry, fear or rush... just thank and enjoy!
Namaste~
KM Hanslik Aug 2018
"Do you think anything will ever
matter enough to stop throwing matches onto the fire?"
I am a good girl, I am always
the good girl & always have been,
at least when I feel like it
(which is often)
but there are portions of my bones that lay with ache
some of my teeth are rotting from the sweet taste of compliance. I wish my skin was thicker
I wish I was better at math so it wouldn't take me so long to know when
things aren't adding up. I wish my hands were warm on their own but I think it always takes something
for them to not be numb
it's always something
Laura Labno May 13
My

Eyes drink
Lazily

the

Dense stew

Of beloved blacks on
White white

Screens.

These are drops of
Diverse tastes

Black black portions
Of hundred's cognitions

Imprinted pieces
Of their minds

My eyes drink
Laizly.

White white screens
Are a new hope

For

The Naive
In search of

Immortality.

But

'Monuments more lasting than
bronze'
Start overfilling

           The Aether

(That's how much we
Want to live)
for Onorio Zaralli

Wherever we look, my friend,

we see children at play.
and children in school .
     We see children in triumph
     and children at risk.
  
We see mothers at work
or lost in thought.
     We see mothers on the edge -
     survivors striving for a rainbow.

We see aged ones,
proud of their grand-kin's deeds
      and of marks they have etched
      on the universal ledger.
      
We are our forefathers and sons,
granddaughters and mothers,
     foraging our way through chaos -
     searching for the best map home.

So we hone our skills
and practice our trades
     to harvest our daily portions
     and navigate the tides of time.

Whoever we are today,
wherever we might wander.
      we are our only hope for a better day
      the only “us” we can cherish.

Lost in dreams, my eyes gently close
foraging for a well-marked path to follow
     paved with respect, compassion and justice
     where we may all walk together in harmony.

© 2019 by Robert Charles Howard
Iz Apr 25
As the months grow farther from the times You couldn’t stand alone and would shake at the knees
You begin to forget what life was life before you caught the “skinny disease”
That overwhelming need to restrict what you eat, limit the water to reduce bloating
Your daily dance with the scale
The portions that seem to grow smaller and smaller
Until you eventually get to a level point
Where you feel “okay” and you stay on routine
That routine is engraved in your brain
It is ALL you know
Wake up, step on the scale, shower, drink one glass of water, pass the time doing small things or laying in bed to conserve your already minimal energy
and after months of slowly growing into yourself again it hits you
The portion sizes that never got bigger, the now weekly trips to the scale as if that’s any better
The consistent twirling in the mirror to check every angle every potion a person could possibly see you in determining am I still thin?
And you realize you didn’t get past this at all, you let it grow into who you are, and that’s why no one knows
After so long the things you needed to hide came out and no one noticed, they congratulated you, asked for dieting tips, and as you lied through your teeth you were disgusted at the shell you’ve become
And at that point is when you can
Finally move on.
Vierra Jun 20
There's a hint of melancholy left in my breath,
a hint of cold in the summer

It's staples of nourishment that has lighted
pathways to salvation,
lighted pathways to safety and a distance from chaos
places like this on the horizon and a day's sail further
exist in a iridescent dream in my recollection

Islands of landmass proportions that rival the wonder of planetary revelations and celestial events that streak through the sky,
float among the ocean currents along side the ring of fire

The children of the Pacific remember these fiya skies and
praise those little portions of stardust lingering on the breeze
that create it.

The saline air collects in my lungs
beautiful coastlines with saltwater clouds 100 meters above the cliffs are home to those that ride on air gusts
they nest with their young hidden in caves a ways above the pristine and rugged rock face
the sun hits them quietly to warm and she leaves them the cooler at dusk on the ridge

Children of the Pacific all know this to be truth,
we established this fact through generations of life

It is how we ensure our survival as a people,
It is community collected lessons that we feed on and digest daily, to share this with the world is our privilege and responsibility,
one that we take seriously...
I am birthed of fire and nurtured by water all in the vast emptiness of the Pacific.
guy scutellaro Oct 2018
last chapter.

Hearing something, he turns and looks out of his open door to see Mr. Martin go shuffling by wearing a bath robe and one red slipper. Jack hears Martin's door close and then for thirty seconds the old man screams, "AAHHH, AAAHHH, AAAAHHHHH." After that the building is quiet, and Jack listens to his own labored breathing.

A glance at the clock tells him it is  a few minutes to 7 a.m. Jack hurries from his room into the hallway. They pass each other on the stairs. The big man is coming up the stairs and Jack is going down to the bar to see O'Malley.

Jack has committed a trespass. The big man looks down as Delleto turns. "Hello, Jack, brother." The man smiles, slides the brim of his Giants baseball cap across his forehead and then continues up the stairs.

Jack watches him. When Paul Keater reaches the top of  the stairs the red exit light flickers like a candle above Keater's head and then goes out. An instant later the sound of a door closing echoes down the hallway to the bottom of the steps.


Jack Delleto is standing in the doorway at the bottom of the steps looking out onto the wet, bright street.

"Hey, Jack, man it's good to see you. I heard you were dead."

Jack turns, looks over his shoulder. "Felix! How the hell have you been?"

The two men shake hands, then embrace momentarily.

"Ah, things don't get any better and they don't get any worse." The old man shrugs and then he smiles, but his brown eyes are dull and Jack can smell the cheap wine on the old man's breath. "When are you gonna come back to the gym and start workin out? Man, you've got something, Kid, and we're going places.

"Yea, Felix, I'll be coming back. " Jack extends his hand to  Felix. The old fighter smiles and they shake hands. Suddenly, Felix takes off down Main Street towards the Food Town super market walking quickly as if he has someplace important to go.

Jack is curious. He sees the rope when he starts walking towards the Wagon Wheel bar. One end of the rope is tied around the parking meter pole. The rest of the rope extends across the sidewalk and disappears  into the entrance of the bar. The rattling of a chain catches his attention and when the dog's huge white head pops out of the bar doorway Jack is startled. Jack stops dead in his tracks and as he spins around to run, he slips and falls to the wet pavement.

The big, white mutt growls, woofs once and comes charging down the sidewalk at him.

The rope is quickly growing shorter. It stretches until meets its end, tightens, and then snaps. Now, unimpeded by the tension of the rope the mutt comes hurtling down the sidewalk at Delleto

Frighten, Jack's body grows tense with the anticipation of the attack. Jack starts to stand up, makes it to his knees just as the dog bowls into him knocking him to the grown. The huge dog has him pin down, goes right for his face.

And begins licking him.

Relieved, Jack struggles to his knees and hugs her tightly to him. He looks over her shoulder and across Main Street to the graffiti painted on the boarded shut Delleto Market.

                           FANTASY WILL SET YOU FREE.

                                           The End


Henry David Thoreau, "I left... for as good a reason as I went there. Perhaps it seemed to me that I had several more lives to live, and could not spare any more time for that one"

my thanks to hello poetry for letting me put in stories which are not poetry. thanks to the people who have read some of it.

originally, I started with the idea some chapters of a novel I wrote might work as a short story. larger portions of the novel have been left out. at some point I decided to put the chapters that I included in order of occurrence. the result: a little bit of  a mess.

my solution and it might be an innovation but i'm going  put a note for the reader to put the chapters in any order they like. Ha, ha.
Colten Sorrells Dec 2018
I’ve had this problem
since I was twelve
I never thought
that much of myself
you may not understand
a thing such as this
but life’s hard for a boy
when he thinks he’s got ****

he don’t sleep well at night
he dreads going to school
he stays out of the heat
and stays out of the pool
and it’s hard to find love
when he’s full of self-hate
and he can’t even tell
when he’s lost all that weight

when years later, he’s healthy
his memory sees
when he looks in the mirror
how he used to be
still he counts out the portions
he’s wasting away
though he’s 80 pounds lighter,
he still feels the same

I went down from 240
to 158
but i’m still that fat kid
that’s filled with self-hate
but I deal with it different
than I used to do
now i’m building lean muscle
at 172

I still have the same problem
I’m sick of this ****
when I look in the mirror
I’m still seeing ****
but I guess there’s not really
that much I can do
‘cos that kind of self-image
attaches to you
R B M Nov 11
Puke
Every other Saturday
When you go the entire week,
Sometimes even two,
Without eating an actual meal
And then you go to a place
Where someone is actually paying attention to it
And you don’t want them to be worried
So you eat
More than you want to
You puke
Not on purpose
But it still happens
And I’m not worried
But others are
They pretend they are
They try to get me to eat
But their effort isn’t there
They’re just trying to show that they’re worried,
Even though they’re not,
Just for reputation
But my dad is actually worried
And I don’t understand why
He doesn’t care about anything
And no one else really cares about this
So why is he worried
I’m fine
It’s not that big of a deal
I just don’t eat when I’m not hungry
I don’t need a chart
You don’t need to shove food down my throat
Really it’s fine
And I do eat
Snacks
And other small portions
To keep me fine
I know how to stay fine
You don’t have to worry
Every time I puke
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