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 Jul 11 CJ Sutherland
Rain
I see that girl every day on the street,

Always laughing and jumping on the beats.

But no one knows what lies behind,

That smile that never reaches her eyes.  



She wishes one day someone asks,

How she is, instead of their burden of daily tasks.  

That smile behind that mask,

Wait, that's not a smile I see.

Maybe the smile was always a task,

But no one cared what was underneath.  

Maybe because the girl was me.
A girl we all know
It is downright lame
How you put all the blame
On me, whose only aim
Is not to fan the flame
That you still cannot tame.

You kinda love this game.
You shout while I remain
Silent, but it's in vain —
You nonetheless act insane.

Don't you feel the shame?
Yet I'm the one who came
To you, but now I claim:
I will not stay the same.
Right here,
right now —

I break the chain.
The air dances around you and silence looks
different now. The Dead Sea is alive again, stillness acquires a
name, the world quivers on a beach
covered with blind seashells. A giant who has come down
from the mountains is posing for a naive painter. Only
eagles feel
planetary alignment, they are the only ones who can
understand man's amazed look when the woman
comes riding a thirsty gryphon. Whatever is left of life
takes refuge in your dreams. The shade of the harbour is
only generous with the spleeping statues. Every day arises
from the blazing calendar, close to the scream of the siren
out at large. The past blooms out of the rock in the sea and
weighs on your heart. The sand hesitates: I am the
beginning.
In the red cells I see only you. Even the blind see the world
again
through the eyes of their own memories. Doing survey
missions
on the maps of the world, the dolphins ask
the purple red colour of the next eon whether night comes
from beyond words

by Ionel Bota, translated by Lidia Vianu
slowly the mountains come out of the blue of morning,
they regain their face
light bathes them in its milk
I hide in the tall grass like a child
this self expands into the clouds behind the trees
an engulfing joy dissolves words into vowels
everything that exists  is wonder, a forgotten state of matter
time confesses a circle
the circle conjures  an earth so wild
the forest stores its prayers inside moss
the sacred hidden in the most profane  flower
an work of art with unknown author, every atom is colourful
I offer my skin as playground for butterflies
they can feel she's not so different from the skin of the earth
some hours are born by the self of rain
I wonder if the wind feels me
like I feel you in blooming nails
 Jul 3 CJ Sutherland
Bardo
They asked me what I did on my week off
I told them I was busy out front, yea! I was busy shining my ideals
Making them look nice and pretty and prim
All the people passing they'd look in and say in admiration
"My! you got such lovely looking ideals"
I'd smile and nod back knowingly
When they'd gone however I'd go in my back room
I'd smile again then I'd hoist my Jolly Roger.

(Every morning for breakfast I eat a big bowl of moral fibre
Then I mount my pulpit to lecture everyone
"Woe onto you if you do this, woe unto you if you do that"
But during the night when it's quiet and there's no one about
I sneak down the stairs and...ha!ha! I raid the refridgerator).
A little Dr Jekyll, a little Mr Hyde. The masks we wear. A bit of fun.
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