Like rippling water distorts a reflection,
the mirror reshapes my
stomach,
thighs,
arms.

Buttons unlatch from their holsters,
The zipper loosens its grip,
Exposed are the  things I despise.

Pinching, pulling, pushing.
Nothing changes, all still there.

Not so much a distorted body,
More so a distorted mind.

I can't pretend I know what happened,
I think it's what others call fate.
But everyone around me changed when you left,
And any liking they had for you turned into hate.
You became the outcast,
No longer part of our clann.
You were no longer welcome in our homestead,
When we met you on the street, you were just another man.
I'm sorry it turned out like it has,
I wanted to have you there till the end.
Because, although there was a major age gap,
I still seen you as our friend.
People begrudge change because it reshapes our lives,
But maybe they're just jealous they settled too quick.
Just know that I wish you all of life's successes,
And remember they are only words, they are not sticks.

When people see
Romeo and Juliet
Die together
They think
"How poetic".
Want to know
What's really poetic?
The sound of the chords
That resonate through the piano
When I take a hammer
To its keys.
Or the way my heart
Reshapes itself
To wrap around your soliloquies
About how you don't need me.
You see,
When two people
Fall desperately in love,
It isn't poetic-
It's the things we do
For those who don't
Reciprocate that love
And the ignorance we hold
Against their disinterest.
We **** ourselves every day
For those who live just fine
Without us.
And that's stupid.
That's life.
That's poetry.

This dear eraser
Hides all my mistakes
It also reshapes them
And gives them new life

I can't really tell you
How many times I've failed
But my eraser can
And it would tell many stories
That I've erased over the years

Solitude ground of ashen field
The fire burnt memories feign
Happiness, joy, elucid emotions
In a place where the truth is buried.

Dry leaves left with none trodden on
Talking of theft and safety gone
In a field so tireless and abandoned
But one day comes when one reshapes surroundings.

That day will make all the bonding.

Four quarter moons turn,
Four silver glances in time,
Bound to seven planetary arms,
Rotational orbits,
Spiral and thunder,
Spoke and wheel,
The hammer falls,
Throws the cogs into gear,
Churning out these ghosts of creation,
Violence and chaos bed the morning,
A wedding dress for the sun,
A veil for the moon,
The audience attends in quiet slumber,
Death is merely a rite of passage,
Birth reshapes the fallen ashes,
Carbon feeds the famished soil,
A chain of daisies rise from the scorched undergrowth,
Carving a path through a
Charcoal coated forest,
Life slowly returns to life,
Tender shoots of lavender,
Mint and fern unfurl,
An old woman fills her water vessel
Bent along the edge of the river banks.
Her gentle eyes,
The color of emeralds and honey,
Reflect the shimmering starlight...
Each one shining like a freshly shorn pearl.
A choir of trees sings;
The melody riding on the breath of the wind,
Leaves a lingering kiss like a whisper,
on her cheek.
Beneath the wiry hair of an unkempt  willow
She makes a bed of dry grasses and deerskin,
Sets in for the anothet night beneath this ebony colored canvas.
She lies awake in revelry,
recalling those stories of the great and powerful Gods of long forgotten twilights...
Their portraits drawn in celestial inks of sapphire, crimson and gold,
Transcribed in the blood of her ancestors,
Mirrored in the strength of her spine,
Amplified by the depths of her heart,
She, like so many before her,
Will endure the weight of another days work,
Will continue the dance between Sky and Sea,
Earth and Beast...
Letting the seasons pass without judgement.
Grateful for every scar, every tear,
Every spontaneous bout of laughter,
And for every sweet sigh of relief.

you can’t find
between the lines
it’s one poem only
reshapes consequently
desires knowingly
breathes simultaneously
collapses memory
forgets willingly
to be delivered by love

where every question bears
the shape of its answer
or of you
and I

yes it’s one poem only

Every slightest gasp of breath
that clears my shoulders of their weight
belongs between the slightest space
that grip the letters of your name

and all the running, shouting sounds
of children playing in the street
the sanctuary where they bound
bears a shadow of your frame

You’re thick inside relief, my dear,
the air hangs flat- its languidness
in awe of piercing shafts of light
which knife them at their brightest core

your coursing spate of energy
tumults the dust, reshapes the room
encapsulates the shredded mass
and leaves the fragments pleading more

As I have pranced this newborn space
and shed my skins of weariness
I’ve ascertained a whimsy fact
that I have found forever true:
I cannot cut the air, my dear
without delightful consequence
of lacerating you

Delight
cowers from the monolith of
Fear

Joy
shrinks from the vise of
Fear

Hope
Dissipates from the jaws of
Fear

Heart
reshapes into
Fear

Courage
is just ignored
Fear

Everything
I am
is made of
Fear.

The disappointment that exceeds
the limit of the human.
The lies that ponders their empty minds.
The lies to hurt.
Depressed, heartbroken, sorrowful
and cheerless that reshapes my
true and utter emotion.
Hiding my true feeling like an
exploding bomb in my body
waiting for the right time to finally blow.
Feeling like nothing but air, nonexistent
but always and forever there.

The fence post that is always second choice,
not good or interesting enough for the shiny
and new. The ignorance of their personality
is relentless. The similarity is clever although
it will soon diminish and disperse like fireflies.
Sooner or later their fate will take a turn. Without
a care, without sight. Just like that it will blow away like
dust. The enforcement to make them look good.
The insecurity that troubles there beautiful and
perfect minds is pathetic and
funny but the best will never change
without some
beauty within.

How can I describe a world,
where you and I are not as one,
a place where we have never met,
a time when our love's not begun,

How can I describe a scene,
where you and I are not to be,
a place where we were lost to hope,
a time our souls could not be free,

How can I describe a hell,
where you and I are far apart,
a place where we are still alone,
a time before you healed my heart,

How can I describe a dream,
where you and I are one at last,
a place where we live happily,
a time where love reshapes the past

How amazing that Now unveils its face,
sets me in motion,
reshapes and changes so life will embrace
my emergence as a free soul.

I suddenly feel like striding up mountains
reaching summits and
shout my request so that Fate may count
me blessed in this Everland.

Instead of digesting manna of loneliness
I shall dine on soul-bread
kneaded by affinity's fingers in golden
awareness I will never forget.

Heaven allows me to play destiny's hand
as it shows me new love
for in lighting faith's candle I understand
what time can no longer touch.

Transformed I will dance on a fresh alter,
imbibe desire's nectar
embrace the passion of later-love water
and taste bliss in pleasure's bed.

For a few precious moments I can escape
celled walls of apathy
and in unfettered Self-Space celebrate
belief in wished-for happiness.

When Now stands still I pledge to leap
between unused seconds
and ****** Fantasy's chances to hear
as another dimension beckons.

Oppressed by a vision that keeps me in the ground
I lay inside of it where I cannot be found
Immersed in all these shadows I can't say which is my own
You saw it once, then it was gone
Ingested by a tragic neurosis that ****** my mind
But I can take it all because I'm by your side
Conceptual self stimulation helps to swallow it down,
as I fall evermore further into this ground
For seconds we come simultaneously, reproducing these lies
I am yours and you are mine
I take it all because I'm by your side
An overconsumption reshapes my eyes
You are trauma,
And I've become blind
Still I can take it all because I'm by your side
Breaking the face on my own virtue
Everytime you speak I suffer the loss of my intention
And I vent so much just so I can bend
Polluted in this ground where I wait to bloom
You're the only one who can make me rise and you can't even see the pitiful side
All your unease hooks me back into the ground
Now I'm here where I cannot be found
Without you,
I break the face of my own virtue
When you speak I suffer the loss of all intention
And I vent so much just so I can bend back,
Filthy in the ground where I wait for you to let me grow
Mutating into the weeping willow;
This is how cut-off I really am
But you can't see me even after I take your hand
I let you go, and I'm falling,
Without you

I am nothing

It takes
Snowflakes

To fall
In all

Landscapes
Reshapes

White sheets
Such treats

All day
Kids play

Some sled
The spread

Some ski
With glee

Some skate
The slate

Snowballs
Appalls

Snowballs
Catch alls

Such fun
Is spun

My youth
Had tooth

Long ago
I glow

Logan Robertson

2/1/21

the dentist reshapes
the bridge of your nose
his breath of garlic
it seeps from your pores
while you sleep
but when you
have a real problem
you call the plumber
to fish out your stomach lining
from the sink drain
using an eggbeater
that he operates
by pumping air
into a rubber bulb
that’s spent too much time
seeing the inside of organs
like the piñata that you raised
high up to the oak beams
with your climbing ropes and
split open with a pick axe

out poured whole chickens
and blood sausages, hams
and the lies
you told to your children

I repeat
Words peacefully
As my mind becomes
The flickering candle
As flame grows,
my shadow dances with me.
My body reshapes-
I burn once again
As my wick
Forms the words repeatedly
"Enlighten".

The grim reflection of the creature
That consumes you upon its gaze
Beyond the frigid mirror of liquid
An abyss lurks past the grave

The consolidated surface flounders
The many that defied its existence
As it shatters but reshapes
Shards of cold glass cease the dance

Beyond the mirror lives
The monster residing
In its frozen tomb
Where the amber glow cannot reach

for some time
you are proud, *****
the fresh buds thrive upwards
swaying gaily
to the touch of winds.
then, the season is over.
a saw tears through every vein
the whole of your graceful height-
collapsing down.
gray beauty, lifeless, dead soft
takes over the green past.
there you see, what you didn't see!
you are a born wood
or born to be a wood!
it's go her way time-then
life is the carpenter
holding the saw and the hammer.
she makes you ears...
eyes, nose and even color!
now and then reshapes you
to her taste and desire.
bit by bit, you dissolve into saw dust
every time getting smaller
until you finally disappear!
Yonas Mengisteab

the dentist reshapes
the bridge of your nose
his breath of garlic
it seeps from your pores
while you sleep
but when you
have a real problem
you call the plumber
to fish out your stomach lining
from the sink drain
using an eggbeater
that he operates

by pumping air
into a rubber bulb
that’s spent too much time
seeing the inside of organs
like the piñata that you raised
high up to the oak beams
with your climbing ropes and
split open with a pick axe

out poured whole chickens
and blood sausages, hams
and the lies
you told to your children

The one who will love you shall come like the wind,
With a gentle breeze or a tempest within.
Their love will caress you with a tender touch,
And bring comfort, like a warm, gentle clutch.

Like a meandering stream that flows so serene,
Their love will be constant, a calming routine.
Through twists and turns, in every season,
Their devotion will remain, beyond any reason.

Their love, like autumn's vibrant display,
Will bring colors to your life, in every way.
With passion and warmth, their affection will bloom,
As leaves gently fall, they'll banish all gloom.

The one who will love you shall come like a flood,
A torrential force, rushing in, fierce and unshut.
Their love, like a bushfire, will spread with might,
Engulfing your heart in a warm, glowing light.

As a mighty avalanche reshapes the land,
They'll reshape your world, with a touch so grand.
Their love, like a soaring hurricane's gale,
Will leave no doubt, as emotions prevail.

Just as lightning strikes, unexpected and bright,
They'll electrify your soul, with love's pure light.
Like a tempest at sea, they'll stir your emotion,
A love that rocks your heart, with relentless devotion.

Like a shooting star, streaking through the sky,
Their love will amaze you, as it passes by.
In the depths of the ocean, so vast and profound,
They'll explore your heart, where true love is found.

Just like the moon's pull on the relentless tide,
Their love will draw you close, with nothing to hide.
In the quiet of night, like a twinkling star,
Their love will guide you, no matter how far.

Their love, like the sun, shining bright and warm,
Will bring light to your life, through any storm.
And just like a diamond, so precious and rare,
Their love will be cherished beyond compare.

They'll erupt into your life with fiery passion,
Leaving no doubt, it's a love that's meant to happen.
For in the journey of love, so wild and free,
You'll find the one who loves you, and you'll see,

So open your heart, embrace love's profound art,
For the one who will love you, shall conquer your heart.

Glimmers in the hinterlands
as I begin to settle
into reaching my Old Ben days.

So rage reshapes, tempers
and can be passed
to the compassionate and energised youth

Torch will still be borne
and saber swung
but I’ll pay in aches and pains
in coming days
and likely collapse to
sage blue spirit status

My anger slowly feels
like an elegant weapon
for a more civilised age
while the streets call
for the bluntness of a blaster

I’ve mastered thinking round and round
and missed chances to parry,
but my force will be added
to the great wave of change

This empire is dead

A fist full of sand
Soggy, foaming from the cold sea
And glass and shells like deposits of gemstones
I sculpt something like a home

The salty air whistles and bellow
The sun solidifies
The moon reveals the llulabys
Cooing in nothingness

The tide remolds, reshapes
I put my body between my home and the sea
I dig a trench, I fortify
Yet the water is frigid

My home erodes

And so it goes
I push sand only for
The tide to take the gems away
But one day

The sea left a gift
In its foam

Our epilogue is a grey sky
beneath it are the small plants I care for and bring to bloom
lavender, vervain, rosemary--especially
that anchor me to your memory.

You knew it meant remembrance
How the lathe of time reshapes, shaves
mud from my eyes
on the small abrasive moments
the little thrip-like wounds we never meant to inflict
and how they siphoned the spirit from us.

In the throes of want
I was hungry for more than arms--
there were times I could almost taste your soul
but even on the doorstep
when I caught the key from around your neck
it would never fit into the rusted lock,
despite all your honeyed words.

I have known men with varicolored souls
with wounded souls
with starving souls,
yours-- silver, mausoleum still
a ****** eating snow
to hide any sign of life.

Loving you, coaxing a stag to drink
holding water in my hands until
it seeped from my fingers into the earth, undrunk--
At my feet grew anemone and yew
living things
that do not have a soul
that want only what I can give
and never
promise
more.

through sixth-sense lenses
built into focused-frames;
the unacknowledged legislator
zooms in on the landscape hidden in plain sight;
to dissect, digest and divulge
an abstract autopsy of societal abnormalities.

disguised in makeup of mythical tales,
the parallel pictures hide in satirical details
dressed in innocent historical fables -
revealing esoteric plot-holes in reality
and magnifying the pore-sized loopholes
onto projections of pundit objections.

in sculpted stanzas
the poet reshapes alphabetical definitions
to portray and illuminate telescopic details
into layman termed translations -
misread by the naked eye in undefined,
unobserved misdiagnosis.

picking up the mantle laid by poets of yesterday's;
the protest songwriter picks, strums and plays
off of the same hymn sheet -
laying lyrical foundations to critical conclusions
on stages set for youth driven revolutions.

there's devourer of innocence whom makes our perpetual ignorance bliss

yess it's ye whom taught them of what they need to know through what ye actually don't know

hence we're no credited goal of creation until we master the mastery of being mastered

PATHETIC TOOL THIS RESHAPES WHERE YE FROM *** OVER IT