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Yeah, if I ever get there
one day I will be far away
somewhere
between heaven & hell
in the only land
my ancestors
ever knew
a stranger in my own homeland
struggling to translate
my surroundings
& far away from you
& all this madness
of  those who would
call me mad
back to where
there's no black mark
next to my name
& where no-one yet knows
my pain
can you erase the past
& re-write your future
I'm going to try
& save the best dance for you
the one you won't see
from a distance
but which will be beautiful
& I'll be looking at Moscow
holding it's iron snow
between my palms
& walking the same
streets that made
my skin & bones
one day, if I ever get there
& each night
the wind will sing to me of you, boy
& of the future we never had
& of the green & pleasant hills
I left behind
but I'll be walking those Moscow streets
getting used to new heartbeats
yeah some day,
if I ever get there
one day I'll be far away
& some say love is blind
so I'll be wearing that blindfold
so as not to slip up
I might end up back where I was born soon.. it's been 22 years since I was last there but certain circumstances in my life are sort of putting me into the position of maybe being forced to go back there soon & abandon my current life... & who knows... it might even be for the best...too much **** has happened to me in the last 3 years... & I just want to leave it all behind..& move to somewhere that knows nothing of what happened to me ( yet)
Tis' only poetry, sweet poetry
that lingers on my mind

that haunts the drunken moon
that lovers whisper in the shadows

Tis' only poetry, sweet poetry
that rescues us from sorrows & ourselves

that the Sea sings in it's lullabies
& that the oppressor fears

Tis' only poetry, sweet poetry
that lingers after death has tolled

it's dark, dark bell
Richer than the gift of any king-

behold!
Sweet Poetry!
It's National Poetry day today in the UK so I thought I'd celebrate by writing this poem!
an anthracite & brown mass undulating seagulls' lost cries
& the summertime fishermen are gone
& you no longer wear that red dress, Carmen
sifting through ***** Sea foam
for periwinkles & pecten raveneli*
no longer barefoot on the Beach
& a child no longer asks for ice cream
the trees,  rabid in their colors,
age creeps in with the increasing litter
& the stars shine coldly now
& the wind is picking up
the drifting remains of love
& packing them away
until Christmas
* periwinkles & pecten raveneli - are different types of Seashell
when I was eight
I saw it
sat on it's swings
mother in the shops
only when
we tried to find it again
it wasn't there
or maybe
it just got lost
amidst
the concrete labyrinth
of the city

------

walking back
through there
waiting to vanish
along with it
like chalk dust
cappuccino in my hand
years later
I saw the ghost
of myself
so clearly
as if I could
reach out & touch her

------

better we had stayed ghosts
than ever entered the present
5/7/5/7/5/7/7

How can I trust you -
Flickering flame in storm-wind
That I don't lose light!
In this dark, cold, barren night
Where crickets crave sleep -
In cricks, in my chest, Thy song
Long forgotten - Now haunts me!
Created by
Impeccable Space
Poetic beauty
~~~~~~~~~~
The chirping  of the crickets
the flashing light of the fireflies
transform the night into a majestique

The air felt sticky
while lovers were icky
My heart felt lighter than ever. .
However,
The grip from his hand felt tighter


Yet, warm at times
Being fifteen, sixteen and seventeen
Lot to perceive with your mind
It was a lovely year of seventy-nine

Our first kiss wasn’t a designer kiss
It was our signature moment
To blossom in the moonlight
Did we got it right
Oh yes we did!

It was the talk of the night
  Two thousand and thirteen
A fine closure
To pawning memories


Goodbye my loves: My diamond rings
To whom your eyes are
Turned upon?

Not mine ! For sure ! I must reply -
For now - not blurr -Nor ever Will,
Love Poet Shaffle
Random Music
Notions
And
Coy Emotions
Classics is more ~
Real
What is your will?

Let me love you. . . darling

Does Three Moons Time
Fleet Seamlessly
Across The Lines
Of Thouest Adornation
When Deepest
Bliss

Is It Real
Is all this just a
Projection of my Perceptive
Gifted Genuinity
Playing old Tricks
Again

      *Let me love you, darling


My heart skips
A Bit
With Each Encountering
Ink Tinted Poetic Blood
Cunningly Humorous

Painted Visages
Dreams
Teams
Smiles Clusterin'
For The lovely Night


     Let me love you. . .

Thou Latest Smirks
Do Smirk Lately On !
When Thee ~ my
Blooming Poet
Know Deep
I won't mention
Fancy Faces
Clubs
Revolutions
Writers
Animal Kingdom
Casually
You Are A Human
And A Divination


LMLYD
         focus me in
               The
    bronze shadow

    
Let me love you darling

*
My shadow speaks of light
Imagined by
Impeccable Space
Poetry Darling
The exit is right behind you
but the key doesn't fit.
Why is the primal
question.

This was written one
week primary
to the real
encounter
:

Language difference
enables my poignant
ponderings to
hide among
pink puffy tonality
of your beloved
mother's tongue. To
dwelve smooth and
constructively
conducted within
your howlin'
domesticated
vowels. I so
become wonder
writer smitten
softly,
touched
by pleasant words
of other writers.
Not suffering.
As I do
in my
original
vaccinity
of no
distance.
Clouds and thunder
collapse into my
deepest core. Tearing
me there at non
acceptance. I tear my
poems. And throw them
into the abyss. Of no re
turnin'.
My position as a writer regarding the language difference in which my poems are created.

My poems are alive creatures, my 'virtual' little me~s, peculiar  flowerin' beings. I'm proud of them! Most of the time. Within the act of writing we (writers). . . discover magical worlds fulfiled with wonderment.

Insight, inspiration and creativity flow ceaselessly at that moments.

This poem ~"Thank you stranger" ~ is about being more accepted and appreciated by 'strangers' than in my
homeland by poets there.. It makes me sad that I  ~ "can write better" in foreign language than in my beloved mother's tongue... It's just their opinion! I know! I know!!! Yet

I deleted so many of my poems, being dissapointed by their ignorance, sometimes considering myself not to be enough..
Impulsive decisions are regretable! I have missed dearly some of my old poems. . . tearing them, deleting them for ever.

Thank you poets for all the support!
Love and blessings from me! IS:)<3
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