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traces of being Apr 2018
Float seeds in the wind strewn about haphazardly;
indifferent winds ask not direction to course

Change asks not permission to become ―
like a blind-folded pilot looking for a place to land

At least dandelion wishes shoulder the weight of hope
and it makes no difference to the wind whose dream
it holds or seed it bears to  randomly cast away

The color of a mustard seed of faith
that moves mountains remains unknown ―
Freedom is as weightless as a hole in empty pocket
with nothing left to lose

Who decides who's a **** and what's a flower;
such definitive power beholds responsibility—
the most visible kind of strength,
that, used to oppress others,
is itself born of weakness.

On this island earth, in an ocean of emptiness,
a grain of sand and seaweed are washed ashore,
alone together, by the strength of a tuning tide

Float seeds in the wind strewn about haphazardly;
spindrift flying on the wing of tide-change
as indifferent gales ask not direction to scatter

Terrestrial seeds lay unheeded hole up in impalpable silence,
embryos of yesterday dwelling in infrequent sighs
that enter lightly those unreckoned songs
the breathings of the heart fail to sing


              words in the wind
Notes: ****;  plant considered undesirable, unattractive, or troublesome, especially one that grows where it is not wanted and often grows or spreads fast or takes the place of desired plants.
Unaware of what to say
yesterdays love may not today
living each choice second to second
unsure of emotions
emotions unreckoned
sentiments change
and thoughts erase
memories will fade
someone takes your place
then all thats left is nothing
failing falling all too fast
your iron heart is rusting
suppose our time has passed.
matt nobrains Jul 2015
in it i have the twist and ****
that falls upon beer caps
and ragged desert fur
that sops up dicotomies,
bathe or dont, fleas or lice,
leaves on battered tarmac
corn that drags its venomous
fangs bare
clogged shitshown *** heathen
explosions decimating wakes
flown over with brutal
stoves; unreckoned
i havent cleaned out my ears in weeks
and its beginning to affect my
hearing.
fast through curves meeting
the brush
glad at the sink
twin teeth buried beneath
long
touka Sep 2014
My mouth aflame with bitter tracks; a  place unreckoned to a soul.

In convulsion and life do these things run -- in whatever thrives, to throbbing piles of char.

In darkness and whatever else may be near their grip,

power

in both

is inevitable.

c.e
what're you hiding, dear?
SassyJ Jun 2019
He tunes all my elements
deep feelings that never existed
a penetrate to the reclusive state
yet, I shield away from emotions
feelings of strong attraction
those sentiments of butterflies
that coexist in the in between lines

He skips the beat of my heart
above the currents of downwards oceans
past the mirage of a destructive naunce
yet, I shield away from his pastures
such a storm of unreckoned thunder
where time to try is a lost option
simmering at the mercies of the heaven front

He will soon fade into the winds
beyond those unreachable bridges
of the never return thoughts
yet, I shield my knees from falling
becoming vulnerable at the mercy
of another wandering beautiful soul
prying in the depths of my many fews
It's just a crush.....??!!! primate attraction.
Bobby Copeland Nov 2019
Unruly truth, your sharp array
Marks tossing lovers--hostages--
Gives aspiration to the clay,
Whose pornographic images
Come through the open basement door.
Fidelity, unreckoned thief
Of all the lies that promised more
Than visitations cloaked with grief,
Defy my moving hand tonight,
That's found the place where life comes in.
Reveal your ugly face and fight.
This thrusting pen comes jammed with sin.
Submersion couldn't call your bluff.
I'm done with this.  I've had enough.
Kurt Philip Behm Mar 2021
The places I’ve been
all part of me now,
roadmaps of intention
tracking landscapes endowed

The history I’ve written
covers chapter and verse,
of promises made
and commitments diverse

The road ever widens
my scope narrows down,
the past out of focus
leaving town after town

Tomorrow unbeckoned
I search for today,
the future unreckoned
—the moment in play

(The New Room: March, 2021)

— The End —