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 Jan 2016 Bor ehgit
Dana Colgan
Sickness listens to us sigh.
Sniggering snidely as we die.
Seeking our soul as we comply.

But still I live
And yet I am not alive.
His canvas face painted with his passions.
His color-saturated voice yearning to connect with the black and white of me.
A blissful creation reflecting the depth of his creator.
White-washed walls drawing me in
as they are filled with the meticulous strokes of
his thoughts.
A child of science enchanted by this masterpiece.

- By E. Zurales
Sharing this poem written by someone else.
 Dec 2015 Bor ehgit
JoJo Nguyen
There's an elegance
to the math

but

it's too complicated for
us to understand much less
make a career of writing
ring looped code
or father toddling

equations.

At best, we fancy Newtonian
relationships,

common sense ones that any 17
century young Romanticist
would Realize

The faster we accelerate into Love the greater
the Force of our relationship
and the Mass of our egos multiply the effect

A Love in motion stays in motion

If only we live in vacuums

our fairy tale would never end
and the forever after is locked,
safe behind Castle doors

But our stories are more like Grimm Tales

Impulse
forces of liberated Egos
change the trajectory
of our real

love.

Random white cue *****
bounce us into a side pocket.

And who's to know?

Are the cul-de-sacs
any worse than
landing in an odd corner,
bunched in with only
a stripped
or solid ball?

At least we didn't scratch
against some misshapen Black
eight
 Dec 2015 Bor ehgit
Awesome Annie
This is the story of a girl, who's eyes were black as night. Stars would flow from her hair, whenever she took flight.

On the back of a sparrow she would rise, to bid the sun farewell. Hair changing the sky to dark, stars shining where they fell.

Arms outstretched she'd gather sunsets, and place them in a jar. Making wishes for brighter days, upon each shooting star.

Faint memories hold as time wears on, she no longer has a name. Age no longer takes her youth, she'll always radiate the same.

Her gown of blue flows around her, with elegant wings spread her sparrow fly's. Changing day into night, forever doomed to roam the evening sky's.
Her mind was a swirling city
With streets and buildings and stop lights
Woven together as tight as they dared
Bustling people, ideas, swarmed the streets and sidewalks
Pushing to their destinations
None stopped to talk
I was so insignificant
So trivial
A tourist they had been trained to ignore
I sat and watched.
For hours I did nothing but watch
The marvel that is her mind
How it ticked ever on at dizzying speed
A spider web of sprawling streets
off the asphalt
five miles down south
she catches prawn

her skirt the catching net
feet quietly feather weight
she looks a muddy heron

beneath sky grayish pale
swimming wind with fishy smell
on her no man's patch

intent on her solo search
head bowed down cutely arch
she must have her catch

streaks of mud on her hair
only what she does care
a bunch of wriggling store

fire it up when day is dead
have the catch thinly spread
and nothing more
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