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 Oct 2018 Jennifer DeLong
Anthea
He swept through town like a storm
And all night long I danced in his rain
His lightning lit up the skies
Brought the flowers back to life
I laid in the clouds and fell in love
It's drought again now that he's gone
The flowers wilt
The grass is burnt
My heart is empty like a hollow tree
The clap of his thunder filled me
And my ache grows stronger day by day
I look to the sky while I day dream
I see him in every passing cloud
Waiting for the storm again

I will wait for the storm again
 Oct 2018 Jennifer DeLong
Marty
Dreams of love, reflecting life.
Imaginary lies of a blackened mirror,
Promising fairy tales and forever
For the stricken fools heart.

Anger and disappointment,
Casting the looking glass.
Upon the floor perfect dreams
Scatter to the wind, thousands of shards.

Painful, broken memories
Piercing an angels feet.
Fallacies and wishes draining the life,
A broken dream at a time.

"If only", and "what if" mock the night.
Her happiness, not from love's spell.
As the tears drown the blood.
And the blood reminds the heart.

The enchanted heart dreams of its mate.
As its mate longs for another's lies.
Walking to and fro upon the bed of glass,
Self made lies adorn the mornings glimmer.

As the remaining love and final prayer leave.
The weakend soul dies one last time.
A final farewell, and kiss my ***
As the lights fades one final time.
The pathways of time
Blending hours
In a mixture of
Light and dark
Casting shadows
Into a homogenous
Stew

And yet time moves on
Like a river without end
Forging a course
Of its own making
Burning in limestone
Hard as granite
An eternity forsaking
All boundaries

Black holes notwithstanding
The empty void
******* time into a vacuum
Frozen in the universe
And still time finds a way
Penetrating reality
Bending light for its own purpose
Into the unknown

Never showing itself
Never enumerating
Its variations
On a theme of its
Own making
Hidden within the
Pathways of time
 Oct 2018 Jennifer DeLong
Seema
A battle building within
Enforcing a war zone
With their spirit, their soul in
Simulating the sins unknown

Another person linked by mind
But they are what others define
As the sages of demonic kind
Of what they believe and refine

They say every human has a third eye
Located in the center of their forehead
But none to believe in the fact, why?
There is no evidence of such when people die

I guess it's the sixth and common sense
That is referred to as the third eye
Visually hidden but lays in the dense
A raider sense that acts like a spy

I keep away from such weird sages
As we all have a sense of awareness
It's good to read about them in pages
Then to be brainwashed to self unfairness...

©sim
The self proclaimed human gods.
 Oct 2018 Jennifer DeLong
gleck
Born into this world,
Tears at the end, tears at the start

Never going back,
My story becomes a piece of art.

Unprepared and free-handed,
Keep the paint flowing.

Cover up any mistakes,
Who knows where this story is going?

Do I love? Do I lose?
Do I laugh at the pain?

Do I bite? Do I bruise?
What does my heart gain?

How will you decorate it?
Choke a bit on glitter.

Have you ever tasted paint?
*It tastes bitter.
 Oct 2018 Jennifer DeLong
ShFR
How fortunate
Our color blends unintentially,
Wildly with thoughts bleeding outside the lines what have we started: again

And again I stroke
And again you absorb
And again this easel-- summoned
And again your vellum-- softened

Perched on a stool,
Vibrant as mangos --ripening
I chose you, the spectrum
Unknown to most

The only museum I go to.
© 2016 by S Fraz All rights reserved. No part of this document may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior written permission of S Fraz
Some truths are told in anger,
Some truths are told in vain,
Sometimes there’s value in candor,
Sometimes truth just causes pain.

Some truths told aren’t told on purpose,
Some come out without consent,
Some when told do a great disservice,
No matter how honorable their intent.

Some truths are never told,
Away in drawers they’re kept,
Things gilded still shine like lustrous gold,
And dry are tears long wept.

I once had a truth I tried to speak,
But it was spoken by another prematurely,
I saw it happen, my voice was weak,
I handled it like a child and far too immaturely.

What was exposed could not be taken back,
It was a point of no return,
I was indignant, it all turned black,
I wanted the world to burn.

And burn it did,
But only mine,
Down hard I slid,
The real world was fine.

With time gone by, I must admit a lesson I learned,
The truth really does set you free,
But to whom my truth concerned,
I can only apologize, it should’ve come from me.
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