the blue and white sky
hidden gemstones

rainmaker and snowstorm
crystalised dreams

I'm all too conscious of the change,
nothing strange, and nothing never felt before
not a shock,
perhaps the clicking of a lock
the subtle closing of a door,
a key has turned,
that well worn latch is dropped once more,
on what is done, a green and fertile time,
I hear the chimes,
which ring and sing a tune I know full well,
a tolling bell
for autumn

A poem
is when you have the sky in your mouth.
It is hot like fresh bread,
when you eat it,
a little is always left over.

A poem
is when you hear
the heartbeat of a stone,
when words beat their wings.
It is a song sung in a cage.

A poem
is words turned upside down
and suddenly!
the world is new.

by  Jean-Pierre Simeón from This is a Poem that Heals Fish, courtesy of Maria Popova

i was crucified by my own friends
for the sake of their own happiness
my tears became their way for joy
yet i never learned my lessons

i was sacrificed by my own friends
they found pleasure in my pain
a sadistic thing i always tried to deny
till i heard the evil plan one noon

i was crucified by my own friends
the re-telling feels like a stab in the wound
no joke was funny, nothing about me was
i was the wallflower they always dared to hunt

the magnetic pull that draws the connection
it can become weaker once you use the same poles
a friendship built upon the idea of being wanted by others
will always shatter over a little discourse
one wanted to be loved even if it was as a friend
one wanted to use the other's skill for his own great good
we were always meant to fall apart
the signs were there but you chose to ignore
to be used is to be wasted
that was the message from my greatest god