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 Mar 2015
Amitav Radiance
Love yourself
To understand its meaning
A beginning
Of an eternal bond with the soul
Reveal
The true identity of thyself
Decipher*
The true meaning of love
Extend
Your hand toward love
Love
Shall willingly embrace you
Share
This wealth of love with one and all
A path
Shall lead to the one who is special
Two hearts
Where love dwells is haven
Love
Is eternal and accepts you
Cosmic truth
You become a part of it
 Mar 2015
r
I thirst in my search
for words
that came first

in verse and in song
what's been here all along

since Peking (wo)Man
singing in the womb
at Zhoukoudian

when the first moon climbed
above branches frozen in time -

our rhythm and rhyme -
a memory of a memory
of the history

of how a poem came to be.
r ~ 3/21/15
My apologies to the great poet Archibald MacLeish (1892 - 1982)
 Mar 2015
r
Air
I like old glass
with bubbles

Pockets of breath
of the dead laid to rest

I break and I breathe and I taste

Their spices
and vices

Kisses from wives
Curses and verses

Songs of themselves
Wine of their wrath

Salt from their baths

Smoke from their fires
Sweet tastes of desire

Shared sighs and cries
Dead butterflies

Air.
r ~ 3/16/15
Maybe I should save it in a bottle and put a cork in it. :)
The secrets of Art are esoteric
in favor of those who suffer.

Sorry, that's just how it seems to be.

If you want to be an Artist,
that is, a prism of the Other,
know that in one way or another
you condemn yourself to Pain
and the beautification thereof.

That isn't a bad thing at all, though;
we need to have more alchemy of pain into pleasure-
Life is Pain and
Pain begets Art;
what if, then,
Life is an Art?

I'd sure argue it is
in one way or another.

Living with a Mind
is an Art and a Science-
could this be an element of why living is so afflicted by suffering?

Whatever the case, take heed;
seek to grow from your Pain
and not to completely avoid it;
do not shut it away, for that feeds thy Shadow
and undermines what control of it
you may yet have.

Pain
is usually an illusion
but it serves a purpose;
t'is a strict teacher,
a cruel mistress-
It can open many doors
and bridge many gaps
between this world
and many others.

All the while,
seek to minimize the pain of others
and to do no harm to any living being,
yet, allow them to experience what they do,
for it serves a purpose if only they know how to find it.

This falls among
the aspects of the Art of Life;
so many have been forgotten.

Seek to remember what once was known.
This was improvised.
 Mar 2015
Amitav Radiance
His feelings ricocheted
Off her world
Impaling his unaware heart
 Mar 2015
r
I like the sound of the rain
washing away the silent day

And the lonely call
of a home-bound train

A mournful morning
kind of pain

....Give me the sound
of a blue bluejay

over the busy noise
that mocks my ways

I want to pack my bag
and fetch my dog

Whistle a tune
while we walk along...

Come on girl
It's starting to rain

I hear the sound
of the lonesome train

and the blue bluejay
calling my name

(Here's where yer sposed to whistle)
r ~ 3/13/15
Been listening to John Prine this morning. He does this to me. :)
 Mar 2015
r
It only takes one bullet to **** a king
But you can't **** a dream

The talk is talked
And the walk is walked today

It's a shame the bridge is named
for a hood who wore a hood

The good General turned grand
in the land and time of dragons

that feasted on Sundays
and still would
if we let them

Or maybe not

Maybe it's a fitting reminder
A bridge to a kinder
gentler place

Because we're better than that now
Aren't we
r ~ 3/8/15
hate the minds not like you
hate the ones not of your faith
hate them that question you
hate that the world is diverse
and not converging to your views
hate when there's nothing left to hate

**yourself.
Today was the morning like other days
but I cannot focus my mind just strays
the empty bowl stings with dull pain
like her would be none ever again!

I light the gas and look around
for her purr’s faintest sound
seek in air a long known smell
silky caress of a raised up tail!

Two deep blue eyes don’t beg of me
to love for love given freely
morn’s kitchen is only grey
where she haunts from yesterday!

These winter days she craved me close
if I refused lap sighed morose
softly spoke her petal face
I wouldn’t ever love you less!

She hid her away when strength failed her
beyond all eyes to quietly suffer
not let me know on what sunrise
dreaming of me she closed her eyes!
I'm heartbroken at her loss.
 Mar 2015
wordvango
and
she gives me
   with no expectations of getting returns,
thumbs up
   reasons to go on
loving all the
     days grey cold
or sunshine warmly
     in unconditional highs
I wish to lift her up
          sanctify
our love
   fight our demons
live forever
   propose
eternity
   to her.
 Feb 2015
ryn
You are the light
That hides below the horizon
I await humbly for your rays
To illuminate this darkened season

You are the beacon
That would build me anew
Equip me with newfound notions
When dreams and hopes are far and few

You are the air
Of a fresh new start
Allowing this body another chance
At retrieving a brand new heart

You are the opportunity
Held my breath for far too long
Soon be granted to live again
And choose the right from the wrong

You are the day
Like many have too often said
Due to arrive after tonight
And embrace me as I laid in bed

You are the tomorrow
The promise of my brand new day
But there have been many tomorrows
That have come and gone away

You are my tomorrow
My future, bearing much needed balm
Maybe tomorrow I may finally realise
**That you would never ever come
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