The end comes suddenly;
there you are
standing in it.

Breath.
The open ocean
and wave-spray white.
Every vessel filled
and beating red.

The bleeding sea
trading warmth for wind
to mix the shade
and sunlight
encapsulated.

The green on the surface
is alive
and sifting into shadow
where bones feed the
greater beings sleeping there.

We sail on,
the sun-soaked horizon,
a promise of the days to come
in the golden-orange strip
cast from black.

We sail on,
the beast beneath us wooden,
the white cloth wings
to catch the clouds.

Over the green, the deep
We sail on.
Silver shimmers of fish
along side,
the roughness of barnacle
along side,
and all our long-shot gazes
falling overboard and sinking.

Thirst.
The open ocean
and wave-spray white.
Every vessel filled
and beating red.

Through eyelids,
the sun.
Over brine
our path marked in ripples
fading

Stars making maps
in an ash-pit sky-scape,
unseen for the fog,
thick in drapes
hanging.

This vastness is inherent.
Here, the liquid vistas,
our calling,
is making us
steam.
Evaporation,
our Queen.

In any convergence of creative-minded people there exists a massive potential for positive change. Internet platforms included. Let's make use of this energy and bring awareness to the things we feel strongly about!

I'm asking yall to write poems about change! Social, Ecological, Cultural CHANGE! Let's address specific issues! Let's stop fracking, and plastic, and war, and hunger, and child labor, and let's free Tibet! Let's bring attention to pollution and corporate crime! Let's heal our wounds and bring our ills to the light! I know we can~

I created a collection called poets for change
please post here:

~~~~~~ http://hellopoetry.com/collection/2821/poets-for-change/ ~~~~~~

Our voices united are powerful and beautiful
tell your friends! spread the word!
REPOST THIS SHIZZ!
Let's show the World~

Spill blood
like wine
over the bed-sheets.
This ceremony
leaves none
unexplored.

As soothsayers
we see dreams
and visions of
time past
and passing
in the entrails
and tea leaves.

What did we hope to find
in the fleshy hollows
where our sweetness
sits in wait
to rot?

Once found
is our fate made sound?
Solid.
A still life
in the waiting room
where we will break our bonds.

When the movement
stilled
and the dust kicked up
was hushed,
did we find ourselves there
under the blood stains
and honey,
or were we waiting
forever on the outside?

Always am I transparent
under a shifting moon.

Out of one seed
how many seeds again
to the ebon Earth
warm and returning?

Eternity presumed
in a worm-cast bedding,
rain-wet and brimming.

Open ended inception
of the dark and probable womb
making space for the determined
and all it's loose-tied light-wires
stringing off into every abyss.

Potential is Here,
still though not asleep,
she is very much alive and viable,
eyes wide beneath the surface,
her pacific inhalations
example for the dynamic,
her sighing a guide,
like a mother at length,
gently directing
the life of her child.

Out of the night
the light is risen,
out of the dusk,
a bent-spectrum slips.

In the void
there is no coming
or going,
no place else to where one may be banished.

In the open hands of odyssey
we are forever received.
Of the sojourn cyclic
myriad destinations meet in the middle
where a thousand flowers flame.

Out of one seed
how many seeds again
to the ebon Earth
warm and returning?