November





Helen Hunt Jackson
.
This is the treacherous month when autumn days
With summer’s voice come bearing summer’s gifts.
Beguiled, the pale down-trodden aster lifts
Her head and blooms again. The soft, warm haze
Makes moist once more the sere and dusty ways,
And, creeping through where dead leaves lie in drifts,
The violet returns. Snow noiseless sifts
Ere night, an icy shroud, which morning’s rays
Will idly shine upon and slowly melt,
Too late to bid the violet live again.
The treachery, at last, too late, is plain;
Bare are the places where the sweet flowers dwelt.
What joy sufficient hath November felt?
What profit from the violet’s day of pain?

Don't look that way at me
We'll only be another tragedy

Like Juliet and Romeo
Like Monroe and DiMaggio
Like Princess Anne and her lover Joe

All will end with broken glass
Because we both know
That we won't last

There are words you say
And they are like magic.
And words that hurt,
The outcome is tragic.
There are words that soothe
And words that calm
And words that hurt worse
Than the slap of a palm.

You wouldn’t think that
Words make you feel better.
After all, they’re just sounds
Just a bunch of letters
Strung together in a way
That convey a simple thought.
Not a woven net in which
Something can get caught.

Yet they can do that, too.
They can be used to lie
And get caught in doing so
In an ugly by and by
Or they can accomplish things
And build up a rapport.
It all depends so much on
What words are used for.

The thing to be aware of
Is verbal sleight-of-hand
Where artists in deception
Make you think you understand
When they really are lying
And making you agree
That what they are doing
Is not the purest larceny.

So, look at words as envoys
Of what other people say;
Watch to see if they mean it
The next day as today.
Gather to you good people
On whose words you can depend
And the dangers of wordplay
Will soon come to a fitting end.

I used to breath music and poetry
Second-hand smoke and second-rate coffee
I roamed a giant chessboard
Towards a marble staircase in a dilapidated building
Secret moments under a magnolia tree
Earl gray tea in an orange mug
Pentacles in the snow
Hope, dreams, and ice
Friends

Your touch is felt, though we're not close.
My eyes are blurred beyond belief.
With lungs so tight they cannot breathe.
Flying cars dash by, with headlights bright as panda eyes.
Early train.
Already wet.
The morning the chilly mist and I met.
(C) LIVVI

To end this, is to run blindly - falling
loose limbs wild and flailing
with hands that can no longer grasp
a saving grace, a final branch
we are lost in desolation
it is pure wilderness
a long winter's night
with no path or tracks
to follow, cold like snow
we plow this landscape, barren
deep and dark below
to seep into the soul
lingering long in limbo
the ache of holding on
transformed into
the pain of
letting go

Dear Momma,
The monster got me.
He dug his nails
Into my bones.
I swear every
Time I cried
He rejoiced
My tortured groans.

I fought hard,
Momma. I swear I did.
I gave up everything
Ive ever had to give.
He took my hair;
My piece of mind.
Yet still he wouldn't
Let me live.

But there's one thing
He'll never have, momma
No matter the pain
Or immeasurable weight
Of this hellish trauma.
He'll never have my soul
For your love for me
Is far too great.

They said I was special
Called me brave and strong.
Claimed me a warrior;
They've never been more wrong.
For I was but a child
Too afraid to turn around.
They'll never know that truth
For my heartbeat's 'ever gone.

-ARI

Drawing images using some words
Telling some stories that are unheard
Stealing the moment, freezing the time
Killing the beast that vultures the mind

Spilling blood, the pen is our knife
Collecting traces from this mysterious life
Connecting dots to create a line
Polishing stones to make it shine

Our words are riddles, a must to decode
Giving multiple key for them to unload
The meaning of some could make readers insane
If wrongly unlock it will conquer their brain

We are a shape-shifter just like the cloud
Painting angels and demons to enlighten the crowd
Hoping they’ll listen to our joy and our pain
Wishing they’ll get the lesson of our every rain



11/03/2015
Mysterious Aries