Nat Lipstadt Feb 2014

"Don’t urge me to leave you.              "If I could, then I would
To turn back from you.                          I'll go wherever you will go
Wherever you go,                                   Way up high or down low
I will go,                                                   I'll go wherever you will go
And where you stay,                              Run away with my heart
I will stay.                                                 Run away with my hope
Your people will be                                Run away with my love
My people                                                I know now, just quite how
And your God                                         My life and love
my God.                                                   Might still go on
Where you die, I will die,                      In your heart, in your mind
There I will be buried."                          I'll stay with you for all of time"

(Book of Ruth 1:16)                                  (Charlene Soria Lyrics)


Let it be writ,
Let it be sung,
All should know,
This I swear,
Where you are,
So, I shall be too.
Your hope, my hope.
Your heart, my heart.
Life and love,
But one.

Where you run,
I'll shall follow.
Now, today,
Forever,
If our bodies apart,
If our hands cannot
Grasp each other,
Yet, still,
In your heart,
In your soul,
I will be,
I cannot leave.

Where you are,
So, I shall be too.

Thank you all for loving this poem s much.  I have long thought of the symmetry between Ruth and the lyrics to the song Wherever You Go, when ever I hear them on Pandora....last nite around Two Am I decided to set up the side, by side and then to see what happened...and the merger, the synthesis was the obvious and only solution.
M Corless Nov 2012

this is how a
part of my
new self
starts:

she
and i
hook up at
a party, in
November, a bit after Halloween
my costume is stars on black, hers sharp teeth
and sharper lines

she sinks them

into
me

and
I am
so much more
lost than I’d thought
I could be, not with her, not her, not her
not her, but there we were, stealing kisses
burning bruises
onto her
exposed
throat

and
I liked
it enough
to keep going
and i had another her, and a him, as well
i knew things i hadn’t before, somehow
knew what a gasp
did to skin,
to a
heart

and
i was
just worthless
lost in my lust
and in spirals, finally confirming  
what i thought i’d known, experimental
results for my
eyes, ears and
starving
mind

what
affects
the levels
of arousal
in a man, in a woman; i learned
how a moan can amplify and set sparks
running down your
back, through your
spine and
on

i
stumbled
took her hand
again, slammed
us into the doorway and hid the light
from her, closed the distance and stole something
she couldn’t take
back from me,
not just
yet

then
i placed
my hands on
her thighs, drew from
her conclusions enough for a lifetime
skin convulsed under mine; i was in control
could play her like
sin plays man
this, I
knew

and
know, i
know it still
it isn’t gone
my fingers sing, sometimes; that’s reverie

Jessica Golich Sep 2014

The world is an oyster with pearls hidden within
Feeling the intense beauty that moves one to tears when one become the infinite as it is within
An eternity of seeking truth, while all along it’s been inside of one
Energetic synthesis, eternally limitless; came as a seed to grow, the sun and moon to know

ju Nov 2011

Deathbed

Words spill beneath breath-
promise or threat?
Doesn’t matter.



synthesis

A deathbed-machine mourns, briefly-
before it’s switched off.

chasingshores Mar 2014

We stared at the ceiling, blackened
from the absence of light,
air chilling with every breath from the A.C.,
moving closer and closer
because we thought it was what we were supposed to do, but
our electrons were sending spark signals
before our bodies even thought about touching.

Like iron and sulfur, we synthesized
moving into each other's lives,
leaving our pieces behind,
swapping stories and secrets
in the cover of nightfall,
with roaring laughter,
our heads making permanent impressions
on their downy and memory foam petals
in the garden of wishes
we created.

And I followed you to your room,
and back again,
through the drug cartels of Mexico,
to the blizzards that lie beyond The Wall.
You, my greatest adventure
showed me what lay beyond the door
I was always too frightened to open.

You earned a doctorate in my mannerisms,
becoming an expert on each temper tantrum, each shining grin
that you always brought about
on the gloomiest of Wednesdays
when I ran out of milk for my cereal
and overcooked your mac and cheese.

You embraced every flaw I had,
came to love every scar I accumulated,
thirty-eight in total,
from the others,
almost too numerous to count on ten fingers,
that left me with a sewing needle,
and a bottle of Elmer's glue
each time.

And I thought I loved you then, but
not like I love you now, because
now I wake up next to you,
I make both of us coffee, and
push open the curtains
to let in sunlight. And I wake up next to you,
I don't hate Mondays as much anymore,
Because through the valleys of your sleeping lungs
I found where I belong.

("Untitled," revised)
MAJD S May 2014

She asks me “what do you think of me?”
I stop;
Reflect upon what just happened,
When a complexity of a girl
Asks a simple guy
What he thinks about her.

She asks me “what do you like about me?”
I’ll tell you what I hate;
I don’t hate your eyes,
Like round circles we used to make
With our dancing bodies
In preschool playgrounds.
I don’t,
Hate your lips;
They could be traced
From a million miles
And they curve so beautifully.
I don’t hate your smile,
The semi grins you keep
Before the flashes,
Before the posts;
I don’t hate your eyes,
Like bullets entering the soul
With an insertion of dopamine.

She asks me “do you really think I am worth your troubles?”
You are not.
You deserve my delight;
You deserve my green days and blooming flowers,
You deserve my watering mouth
Nourishing the vines underneath your tongue,
You deserve the sunrises in my playlists
And sunsets in the warmth of my jackets;
You are not worthy of my troubles
I am not worthy of my troubles.

She pushes me away,
The walls are too tight
And the stares,
They scrape on our throats.
The girl is lonely,
Her social circle spreads wide enough
To leave a gap;
Her friends walk next to her
And not on her side;
Her smiles-
Electronic cigarettes that look genuine,
But the smoke never rests
On the teeth,
Just a vapor that fades away.
She’s anchored to her reality
Her ships are not meant to sail
Just yet.

She asks me “what do you think of me?”
You’re a concept;
You’re a fusion of vivid elements
Wired with secret buttons
Hidden in your desires.
You’re an emotional rollercoaster
That we ride
You and I,
When I think of you
You’re just a white canvas
That whispers into my soul
The true meaning of art.

She asks me “is this your real answer?”
She ask me “is this your real answer?”

svdgrl Aug 2014

Make my eyes shed again,
so that I can write.

K Balachandran Aug 2016

An age old chair, in seasoned teak wood
carved, a perfect work of art, nothing less than
a masterpiece, and a  reminder of so much past,
sat regally before our wondering eyes, tempting
on the central court yard of my  ancestral home,
where generations lived.
                               Wanting to sit like my grandpas of yore
I found a carpenter, perhaps the last one for this work
who understands the air that surrounds the chair.
We discussed the concept,
design and the kind of wood
it has to be  made,to create a replica
to bring back the grandeur of times past.
But then, found  not an easy task  it is
"Do you deserve it ?" the bearded
carpenter, was so blunt in his skeptic stance!
He  puzzled me  with his questions
Yet we were keen to give it a try.

The adamant carpenter relented
after many sessions of questions
and answers, perhaps my passion
did the trick, his eyes made me believe.
He promised to make me a chair
(The kind none would dream in this age)
as if it's a mission divinely assigned,
"You need to change a lot to deserve it"
he insisted, suggests a series of
purification rights  "for your confused soul"

"To fit  in to a chair like this , fulfill
all it's  demands"in my ear he whispered
as if I am the chosen one for an ancient  throne.

An  antique chair shaped by the imagination
of my distant ancestors, now changes me
and without slightest  resistance I submit;
would I ever know what is happening?

Sanjukta Nag Sep 2015

May be there is music in my blood
And your love has the hands of a pianist,
For whenever you touch me
My whole body illuminates melody…

May be there are words in my soul
And your love has the passion of a poet,
For whenever you hold me
My whole body radiates poetry…

May be there is nothing common between us
Except the love that inhabits our heart,
But whenever you kiss me
My whole body feels our unity…

Eriko Aug 2015

Fake plastic roses balanced in a pot
Fake plastic flowers adorn the patio
They say these flowers are beautiful
But no, they are simply synthetic to the skeletal

It’s like the things we think are cute
The things we think we are supposed to do
But simply living in an outer plastic mold
We burn that skin organic to our kin

Throw a little grit, paint a little bit
Unveil the perception which have filmed our minds
Give a little shit, care for that abandoned soul
We are not all numbers on a metric scale inclined

These plastic flowers glisten from the sunlight
Yet they are not there for photosynthesis in sight
They may be pretty to look at
But they are fake and plastic, if you haven’t known that

Commuter Poet Mar 2016

Breathe in quickly
Gather more oxygen
To encourage the thought

Widen the eyes
To take it all in

Keep still
Do not talk
Or dare interrupt the moment

But give the thought space
To materialise

And then
Suddenly
There it is

Truth

Apparent
Present
Realised
Understood

Adrenaline surges
Joy flows
And there is peace with oneself
Connection to the universe

A new dawn has broken
Rich with possibilities
Changing everything

2nd March 2016
Francie Lynch May 2016

There are two voices
Behind my shoulders
Giving conflicting advice.
One says, Reach;
The other, Draw back.
It's a crisis of decision
For the left or right.
These voices meet
Between my ears,
For a synthesis.
So I listen to the third I hear,
One that avers,
Live life right.

Misty Meadows Jul 2016

Drowsy despair,
Not a care in my heart.

Affairs with my rest till my
Death does us part.

And that's the best part,
That I swear I can snooze

Anything away that I
Care not to lose.

I'm an opportunist,
So if I ever lose it,
I'll just grin in my sleep
And play it so elusive.
Ever count sheep?
They seem so abusive.
You never really rest, man.
Sleep's inconclusive.

Nine, one, one or--
One, one, nine.
I can never stay awake.
Don't you ask me the time.

Don't you ask me a thing.
I was never good with questions.
I'll repeat what you say, then
Dot--dot--dot the sentence...

I can't...

Form a sentence or,

Fathom lessons, I'm

Too damn tired to

Pay attention.

I would pay attention, but it
Interferes with sleep.

Codeine got me in my sheets
Buried so deep.

Blah blah blah
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