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 Apr 2017 Darrel Weeks
Pax
hierarchy
 Apr 2017 Darrel Weeks
Pax
Where does hierarchy begin?
    Is it where the strong is on top,
and the weak step upon?

Where does your dignity be placed?
   Is it where your always be the winner,
no matter what, even it has bitter taste.

Is SURVIVAL really that cruel?
That some of us are just a tool,
a fool for the strong to be cool.

No, it can't be that bad
yet reality is quite sad.

Despite our hard beginnings
Life still is beautiful
that losing isn't everything.

Dignity is placed -
where you respect yourself the most
and Hierarchy isn't important
to where your love is...


© Pax
yeH! a new poem, a longer one and it's been long i haven't rhyme like this. a bit hard when you have limited vocab, my apologies for its simplicity and many thanks for reading.
Pour the moon upon this netherworld
Like white plaster dripping from tall trees ,
may it pool at the base of evergreens
May it form streams illuminating the nighttime world
Bringing mans trepidations to light
May it drown pain and suffering tonight
Pour the moon upon my world* ...
Copyright April 5 , 2017 by Randolph L Wilson * All Rights Reserved
 Apr 2017 Darrel Weeks
wordvango
once seven pm
in this neck of the woods comes
'round
it's blues and gin time
a bit of eight ball
on the table
the dice in the corner
girls in short dresses
and perfume
Floyd Dixon making the women wet
a bonfire outside
a sip of moonshine
her looking
red lipped
licking
me trying to remember her name
beats turned up and the cue ball slams
into the rack and vicious
I stare seductive as ten grenadine bottles in the window
back at her svelte high hair  load of makeup
smiles tight assed hips posed just right there
hell its past 7 now
give yo a ride home Mabel?
she smiles
 Apr 2017 Darrel Weeks
Lora Lee
Ingredients:

suitcases
photo albums
quick wit
a  new space that is comfortable to breathe in, raise other beings in, and nurture pets and your spirit in.
Sprinklings of humor to shake on it all when it gets to be too much. Mason jars of self-appreciation and worth to open in an emergency, if these qualities are forgotten and old patterns resurrected.

Preparation:

First, sit quietly with yourself.
Breathe deeply, as many times as you need.
Fill as many soul cups as you can with confidence,
and pour them on yourself, until they sink into the
soapstone of your pores.

If needed, tip back your head and open your mouth,
in order to have a more direct inflow.
After that, take just as many cups of calm
and pour them in, slowly and with generosity.
It is okay if you overflow; you may need extra serenity
later, when you are in the midst of action.

Let the two ingredients mix, slowly, until colors as yet unnamed
are formed in your solar plexus, spilling
throughout the entirety
of your body.

Take a break and blow bubbles, for lightness.
Yes, you may laugh like a loon.

Marinade:*

After the laughter has subsided, take a big dose of self- love and rub it all over yourself, drizzled like fine coconut-scented oil. Do not miss a spot, even on the parts that you have a problem with. In fact, give those extra love.
And now, for the rub*: This has been simmering for a while. It is time to push it all into the oven and bake it. The heat is rising, so be quick.
Take all precious memories and sew them into the pockets of your coat. The ugly ones, burn, quickly and thoroughly. Scatter the ashes into the wind.
Hang new pictures on the wall.  Splashes of nature you have photographed. Mandalas created by a precious daughter. A platypus wishing you goodnight by your little flower imp. A cheeky photo of your boy, to remind you of inner sauciness.
All of these strengthen with love.

Finally, rest your head upon the new pillow and inhale the scent of freshly laundered springtime. For now, the ordeal of your winter has ended.

Time for a long, languid, luxurious dessert.
A new life!

Bon appetite!
This was so much fun to do!!
 Apr 2017 Darrel Weeks
Fay Slimm
In that twilight when sea-foam skittered sand
on bare wet toes,
as sun-down scuppered need for dour grum,
you took me
and we shackled wonderment for a moment.

All rile was left in a yesterday-mire and just
nothing felt slutchy
to our touch of contentment that little while.

In dark's cove we chawed  clandestine risps
of stolen kisses, unrolled
tongues of delight and gloried in fetterment
while gyved together.

Those neckled heaves hankled all the asurn
of heaven and earth.

One summer's eve we two for a pretty time,
wooed an alivenesss,
slaked passion and sated sleaved  smeddum
as never before.


Hagseed may take tomorrow but we did what
was waited for.

We pierced a rive into infinity on that azured        
shore, you and I.


N.B.
Grum = gloomy, morose
Slutchy = mucky
Asurn = vault
Risp = green-leaf branch
Gyve = handcuffed
Sleaved = raw
Smeddum = energy
 Apr 2017 Darrel Weeks
nivek
find me
 Apr 2017 Darrel Weeks
nivek
find me where no padlock locks
or gated community cowers

find me like air over water
on chilled wings of the dawn

find me where the Sun is friend
and I a friend to all

find me where the Holy Spirit
quietens the mind body and soul.
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