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Panic spins.
I am a dervish without
a prayer.

Air pounds in my chest.
Sound is a slap.  
Thought is scrambled.

Breathless is a **** in my
stomach.  Flight is the
option.  Feathers fly.

The air is sand, filled,
unbreathable.
A storm screaming.

A rope
chokes me
into another
space from which
I fall disgraced.
.
Recovery is a movement
of clarity I receive from
your

lips on my

hands.

Caroline Shank
 Sep 2022 Naceur Ben Mesbah
Maddy
Is that all there is?
There is nothing more to say?
Nothing to look forward to
Nothing to share or plan?
Are you trapped in your head?
******* on too  loosely or tightly?
Stuck in neutral?
Is the silence too deafening to you?
Where do we go from here?
Is a there available?
Click and tick of the computer keyboard or Cell phone
Where do we go from here?
Are we going together?
Please don't tell me you abide by the words and deeds of Mr. Despicable Narcissist?

C@rainbowchaser2023
 Sep 2022 Naceur Ben Mesbah
Maddy
It's not about them.
It is about you
You can care and share
Be loving and considerate
This time it is not a stranger or a friend
Not a friend of a friend
The ball was tossed to you
You have to play
Before you know the rules of the game
There is a flow and feeling
A control about the cards dealt to you
You are not gambling your life and meaning for what is at stake
You don't go through this alone but when those closest to you feel a million miles away because what you are doing is all too real
You stay the course
You stay positive and win with patience and great but quiet determination
When it is all too real
Live genuinely and when it is all too great.

C@rainbowchaser2023
Wishing you all the best game you can play and win!
If you have something to live for
the transition between this life and the next
(if there is a next)
will be painted in hues of joy.
I no longer aspire to climb
lofty mountains in summer,
or ski down snowy slopes
in winter, nor ride the back
of rank horses, or motorcycles
at over 100 miles per hour.

I still have an eye for an enchanting
woman from a safe distance,
experience has taught me that
looking is better than having,
avoiding those complications.

Mostly I choose being alone,
but I am never lonely. I have
explored the many mysteries
of life, traveled around the world
satisfying most of my curiosities.

I have fathered children, loved
and been loved, committed no
moral or legal transgressions
and possess a clear conscience
and very few regrets.

I have been successful in most of
my business endeavors, planned
well and possess security and
tranquility.

I revel now in the one day at a time
moments of living, with nature, the sky,
music, books, my fellow creatures of
wing and paw, a cool breeze on a hot
day, the sight and scent of flowers in
my garden, and most of all the joyful
times spent with my children.

Strolling the lanes in my orchard are
much more pleasant and satisfying
than revisiting and walking the streets
of the world's biggest overcrowded cities.

Happiness is finding our place in the
world, realizing its value while ignoring
all the other distractions of which there
are many. Knowing the difference between
Want vs. Need.

Written for my grandsons, who only
know me as an old man, one who
does not go off to work every day
like their dad, or seem not to have
many friends, leading them to assume
and worry that I am "lonely".

Hard to explain all this to a young man
who is just beginning life, when I am on
the tail end of mine, that our interests and
desires change and evolve over time.
No need to fret my boys, Poppy is just fine.
6:30 AM dew on the plants,
à chill in the air, feeling the
season changing, fall is upon
us. A clear Sunrise glowing
day.

Hanging my robe on a wall
hook, naked I shiver a little.
Swing my good leg over the
edge into the warm water set
at 102. The other leg follows,
I slide in.

Hot water is a kind of heaven,
it envelops and embrases us.
A return to the womb perhaps.

The pumps engage and 50 jets
commence, I recline and murmur
"Yes, yes, oh **** yes!" several
times out loud to no one in
particular, as I am completely
alone. I think I say this every
time I slide in, such is my
unbridled fervor.

The full pulsing body massage
begins to overtake my aches
and pains that permit me no
more than 6 hours sleep at night.

Joyfully soothing, rejuvenating,
à rebirth of sorts, an everyday new
beginning.
I would like to meet the person that
invented the modern-day Hot Tubs.
I would embrace them, possibly even
kiss them gratefully upon the mouth.
Or just shake their hand.
Poetry is the weeping eye
it is the weeping shoulder
the weeping eye of the shoulder
it is the weeping hand
the weeping eye of the hand
it is the weeping soul
the weeping eye of the heel.
Oh, you friends,
poetry is not a tear
it is the weeping itself
the weeping of an uninvented eye
the tear of the eye
of the one who must be beautiful
of the one who must be happy.

by Nichita Stanescu, translated by Thomas Carlson and Vasile Poenaru
 Sep 2022 Naceur Ben Mesbah
Tyler
in the hospital bed
they struggled
in pain
until they found
a new life.

past reality died that
day, and with it,
something else was born-
peace, love, and new beginnings.
Remix of a past one
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