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 Oct 2018
strawberry fields
i crashed somewhere
your barren heart’s desert—
buried in sand
 Oct 2018
Amory Caricia
I'm writing this letter to friend or foe
A note about why I must go
I'll need you to clean out my mess
My room, my car, and what I've left
The little pieces of my life
That never indicated strife
Something was just a bit too much
So I had to leave in a bit of a rush
And I don't think I've let on too late
I don't think I've made a mistake
But I won't need you to pity me
For that, it's late, to some degree
I've made my mind once and then twice
I have enough to pay the price
The cost I've covered, but for you
There is just one small thing to do
Tell anyone that asks of me
That I always spoke of them fondly
So good day and with that, good night
I'm tired and turning off the light
 Oct 2018
Pagan Paul
.
i.
And it grips her submissive mind,
sweeping her along unbidden,
through timelines inducing nausea,
passed worlds previously hidden.
Tumbling stones rumble unheard,
a slide that sends gravity shifting,
starting a new path through time,
the butterfly effect begins shifting.

ii.
The images stop swirling,
a vision fades slow into sight,
a row of glowing Seers Spheres
racked in the pale moon light.
Eleven cradles for resting orbs,
four relieved of their weight,
claimed by other time travellers
already gone through the Gate.

iii.
And she sees Grimly approach,
picking a Sphere from the rack,
carrying careful in clean hands,
then through the door turns back.
She sees herself seated rigid,
watches Grimly hand her the Sphere,
a bolt of understanding hits and
her mind becomes crystal clear.

iv.
She realises these are tests
for the next vision is of her,
as a child in a camel train
leaving the great city of Ur.
Crossing the desert once again
with oils and perfumes so pure,
amidst the most luxurious goods
of gold, silver, silks and furs.

v.
And the images diffuse, refocus, Judderwitch by a grave,
of an unfortunate sacrifice, the girl she could not save,
a flame handled dagger marks a headstone epitaph,
and her weeping grief slowly turns into a manic laugh,
as in the grave paces away, a woman screams out loud,
buried alive with a nest of spiders, no forgiveness is allowed.

vi.
And the scenes change, redefine, Judderwitch on a street,
with a mutilated corpse, an horrific sight for her to meet,
as a black rat starts to happily nibble at the naked feet,
and she shivers. She shivers? The Empress of Evil cold,
an anger courses through her at this alien feeling untold,
whilst her body stiffens at the answer she beholds.

vii.
Grimly sees her body stiffen,
a knowing smile graces his lips.
His eyes move to a vacant cradle,
as Time plays out one of its tricks.

viii.
And she knows.
She understands.
The Seers Sphere is Time itself.
Exactly one eleventh of
All Time.

ix.
The race through Time gently slows,
the globe feels warm as it brightly glows,
and deep inside she already knows
she is accepted and with Time she flows.
Connection with the Seers Sphere grows,
as the Ritual comes to its joyous close,
and the Seers Sphere hummed as it chose,
Judderwitch, and on its journey goes.



© Pagan Paul (05/10/18)
.
Poem 5 in Judderwitch series.
(Part 1 was posted a few days ago).

My Judderwitch poems are now in a collection :)
https://hellopoetry.com/collection/28451/judderwitch/
PPx
 Oct 2018
Graff1980
Maybe you will see
fake flakes swiftly
swirling in a globe.

What a gimmick,
a water world
made to mimic
a furious flurry
of blizzard like fury.

Shake it up
but do not let
the glass ball
ever fall
because
if it cracks
you will
never be able
to get that
snow dream back.
 Oct 2018
lmnsinner
he gulps me into peaces
__

led to his bed.
eyes kissed and asked to
come and go to where I
dream and imagine
but do not think.  

he gulps me into pieces.  
oh my god
oh my god
oh my god.  

and when he sees I am at last
in peaceful,  
speaks.  

god could but desires not to answer
all who call out to him.

thus the human was invented:

an imperfect messenger

a version of his image

that answers you in

pieces of peace

as best as any

human can
 Sep 2018
Jenny Gordon
...want M&M's right now!


(sonnet #MMMMMMMCDXIX)


Out where a fragile silence listens, pale
Sweet minutes on their honour as suspense
Hangs like the rick'ty signboard of what hence
Shall cough ere giving voice, yes, in that frail
Calm rain does not quite tiptoe through t'avail,
The voiceless naught is keenly for intents
Half harking to what we don't hear from thence
In all our haste to be, I search for bail.
Old pools of water, silver-faced, don't stir,
And crickets gently fiddle; cars pass through,
Truck sans a care, weeds look too yellow to
Be ransomed, and the eaves drip.  Oh, what were
We thinking, really?  Death knocks 'gain in tour
Yet we feign not to notice.  Ah, what's new?

30Sep18a
I forget what else to add after that.
 Sep 2018
Graff1980
I am so sick
of this
thick ****
that split lip
from some
dumb *****.

Macho
man
with a
quick fist
who likes to
call women
*******
and chicks
while he hits
them.

Big bad
bro boy,
confident
with no
reason to be
and I am
jealous cause he
gets more
love then me.

I’m not
looking for
****** gratification,
just deep
conversation
and a little
appreciation.

But isolation
is what I am facing
while a sub-par
sports car
*******
never goes
home alone.
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