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 Nov 2015
Mysterious Aries
My days at Penlandia definitely reached its afterglow
Now it’s hard for me to find my rhythm
Hopefully, the soul of some of my poetry will find their mark
If not unto someone’s head, then to somebody’s heart

I hope my words are not just vandals on the wall
Nor merely a stain on the paper
I created them to touch, stab, **** and make love
To bring peace unto hell and create fire in the sky above

It’s up to your eyes now, my dearest readers to magnify
Hate my stuff or love them
What's the reason why I’m inches away on parking my pen?
Voices from the other side echoes within my ear again and again

That’s why I’m writing this poetry as if my last
But if one day you’ll see me deploying another poem
I hope you enjoy stories with an unexpected ending
Besides, even the afterglows have a little radiance remaining

Mysterious Aries

11/19/2015
 Nov 2015
PB Ward
We are the *******, we are the spicks.
We are the kykes, we are the hicks.
We're the one's who wait our turn,
To read the books you wish to burn.

We are the honkies, the mussies with guns.
We are the beaten, the poor and the dumb.
We see the horrors, the mistrust and the hate.
We are the people, the ones who relate.

We are the chinks, the bindis, the *****.
We are the losers, the mixed and the muts.
We are alone, left to fight.
We are the ones crying at night.

We are the triggers, set on the gun.
We are the fighters, refusing to run.
We see the world through darkened glass.
We see each other as mutants to pass.

If only we learn, it could be done...
We are all different, but we are all one.
 Nov 2015
Chris
-
No one knows what goes
on behind the kitchen door
You can guess and assume,
ask questions, seek answers
or sling accusations
hoping the batter will stick
But there are reasons
some choose to slip
behind a disguise
of safe netting

Perhaps scars
of the past are not
that appealing when the
mirror is faced
reflecting bad memories
or maybe threats falling
like the sky on that
little chicken’s head
are taken seriously

It could be shadows
lingering behind foggy curtains
cryptic fingers reaching,
manhandling innocence
or something as simple
as shyness fluttering
like a soft breeze
sending chills on a
warm summer day

Maybe artistic endeavors,
creative images circled
on a recipe card to bring a smile
or those who were
falsely accused hiding from
a jury of peering eyes
that leaned towards
the popular side
of the truth

Or sadly to throw stones,
spit venom
from a forked tongue,
troll from beneath
a fairytale bridge
(Three Billy Goat’s Gruff)
built on jealousy
and rickety thoughts

Anyway…
people are people,
reasons are reasons
It takes all kinds
to make a stew
that has all of the flavors
to create a poetic feast
even if we don’t know each
ingredient by its correct name
Who are we to judge? People are people, we are all different. We all have different problems and fears.
 Nov 2015
Chris
~

*Rose petals bloom
in your smile's inspiration
Sunsets begin
with the glow in your eyes

Hummingbirds sing
of your heart's destination
Perfect your skin
under cool autumn skies

Whispering sonnets
this night as you're sleeping
Hoping your dreams
are a beautiful view

So when you wake
you will know what I'm seeing
Every moment
that I look at you
I could never write a poem as beautiful as she is to me.
 Nov 2015
ryn
.
■■■■■■
|.....l.....|
|.....l.....|

• let the
ticks on
my wri-
st•mirr-
or   that
of     my
pulse    •
for  what
i fail to cle-
nch in fist•in
my heart, nev-
er falters; never
•••••dulls•••••
□□□□□■12■□□□□□
  ■11            ^              1■  
■10                 I                 2■  
■9                    ●----->         3■  
■8                                      4■
■7          ­                       5■
□□□□□□■6■□□□□□□

••••••for••••••
with each tick of
the hand • is a
glimpse into
the uncert-
ain future
• let  slip
the  loo-
se   gra-
ins     of
sand•c-
lose the
tempor-
al  gaps
to bring
you......
much
clos-
er•
 Nov 2015
Chris
~

Walking into the unknown,
wavering trees hide new growth
as leaves collect in grayscale
piles of worried thoughts swirling

They float on gusty breezes
of the past, cold and chilling,
bringing shivers to lost smiles
that long for sunny days

Fears spill in shaded offerings,
as nervous uncertainty
waits in the brush for it’s chance,
lurking in darkened shadows

The path is long and winding,
like a serpent slithering between
wishful dreams and the frigid
nightmares gathered nearby

When another joins you,
bearing warm clothing of flannel
and fleece held in caring arms
wrapping around you tightly

It is then that you see something
in his eyes, a glint of those feelings
that so long ago disappeared
in the forgotten fog of sadness

And once more the world seems
safe as thick clouds retreat,
revealing blue sky promises
on forever horizons

Then as he takes your hand
you feel it, the truth you have
waited for, as love fills your heart
and you walk unafraid…once again
 Nov 2015
SE Reimer
~

dusk brings a chill
o’er the ocean,
this secret stage
where twilight fades
in regent haze;
transformed, replaced
with slow drift,
swirling, mist
softly rolling in.
above, the sand,
a salt-washed beach.
a brimming tide
awaits release
of curtain rising
far above, and there,
like bio-luminescence,
she shimmers in the ether;
ancient existence,
always with us,
seldom seen,
her light serene.
a fresh emergence
each moonless night,
a shimmering of colors,
like a nightly bow
an arch of
color-filled delight.
though this night rests,
not drawn and taut,
exuding peacefulness;
her horse in all its glory,
feeding in her pastured stars.
drawing, telling
children wonder-eyed
of her richness,
of her treasures,
loving, storied skies,
light years in the making.
her curtain lifted,
these moments served,
to but a few.
a sacred showing
to our breath-taking,
memory-making eyes.
hovering in her milky skin,
she dazzles, beckoning;
her adieu at sun’s return,
at our rising disappears.
awaits another
night's re-appearing,
her celestial flow
like a river of
imagination, rippling,
much to our surprise,
a gifting
to awakened eyes,
never captured,
only living on...
in memories,
in moments raptured.

~

*post script.

inspired by Mathew Newman,
of Mathew Newman Photography
who captures the night sky so skillfully,
of the milky way rising above the pacific ocean
along southern oregon's secret beach.
his name for the photo that inspired this,
"Celestial Flow", of course.

sorry, i am not permitted to include links
but simply add www. to both these below and you will find what inspired me:

facebook.com/MatthewNewmanPhotography/
or
matthewnewmanphotography.com/wp-content/gallery/gallery-1/CelestialFlowWeb.jpg

 Nov 2015
Sjr1000
I've returned from the cyclone
Not quite intact
These images are haunting me
Every time I close my eyes.

No patience for people
Their ways take me under
I erupt in fury far too often.

My arms are a Jackson Pollack
My face in the mirror a Salvador Dali
I'm trying the best I can.

The doctors throw cocktails of drugs
my way,
I don't remember who I am
or care to even try
Your either against me or on my side.

I've been hurt too many times
My eyes are likely to swim to the side
I'm dizzy
I'm dumped

My days are too long
My nights are too strong

You think you've got it rough
A little empathy, please
Think of what it's like
to be me.
Not autobiographical, dedicated to all those who suffer from past trauma and Post Traumatic Stress, healing is possible.
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