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Robin Carretti Jul 2023
Growing or shrinking
last star exit in mind
New trend
Is life the dead-end?
Star casting kiss
No exit to miss
A friend

Finding courage
Circles and stars breath
condolences
Feeling nameless no
picket white fences
Eyes adored last glances
Society- Supreme- be
Forget me not Garden- of- Eden

  Wish upon a star hidden?

The last digging dandelion
yellow ray  
In the end no more suffering
until the day
Like poem book* open and end
Something stiff glued together her life
Paper- Mache
Making amends Sales man

Taking his last exit he picks desire
She's
The spitfire Rare- star sire
Computing- reliving-  dying
dreaming
Don't settle for scheming
The last star exit


The last scripture
Vivid mixture
Mind storing like a cache
Rare Robin bird great
panache
Recherche last meal al -dente
Smell the last flower herbal- ritual

Petals open up new portal
Blue elf Viola sing like Mona Lisa
*        *        *        *
Autumn red wine star bridge

Grenache field of mirage
Seeing stars you fell
Where's my falling angel
Strong words vocal
If its the last exit don't disconnect

Dots.. and dots.. connect
God casting
Its written stars for all in our name
Starry- end
Things feel like there to sudden not knowing when? We all want the everlasting but we live through a time like bomb blasting take your best moments let them last In life there are all exits
Departures and Arrivals.
The dust hasn't yet settled on the torn up trail behind me.
Particles still linger in my hair, my teeth and in the air
around me like they own me.
I wonder, even though it seems like I've dearly departed, if it
will ever settle and  I don't necessarily expect it to because
maybe it has to sock it to me
so no sweet amnesia can shew away the memories of what it was
that got me here to this place of growing respect for all the
potholes and all the unpaved roads.

Driving in the dark tree monsters slide bye one after the other,
their silent dialogue giving me the shivers like so many other
things in the world do,
cold sweat running down my face as the  car rattles and  the
music stops and there's only the sound of dripping rain. Tears,
like rain aren't separate  from  sweat.
They're constanly recycling  and bleeding into one another like
night bleeds into day. I get that and I even love that because where
does hardship go if  not to tears?

Stuffing grief into the cracks of the bodymind is a recipe for sick. I get
that too. People may tell ya to take a pill, have a swig, do anything to
bully your discomfort away but you sense
and you know that you sense and only you can sense what it is you
have to do. So you keep on going because what has drinking  the
sweet numbing  Koolaide ever done for ya anyway?

And it's a relief to come out of the comatose to watch the rose-gold
sunrise coming up over your landscape as your gears shift on the
broken hill of this awakening;
laser sharp beams of light gutting the nonsense out of ya, your feet
touching down onto solid  ground  and you feeling shaky but all
aglow in your skin
and this departure is telling every cell in your body that you have arrived.
There will be other departures and other arrivals, other days and other
nights but for now,
in this moment you have arrived and you don't give a **** about and
you're almost grateful for the dust and the  particles and the freaky
and the the not so freaky  fallout hovering over ya like a halo

1/2020
The renewal of the spirit, thru departures and arrivals...leaving and entering new phases, lessons absorbed, learning to navigate through the dark, coming out of denial, allowing, sitting with the pain and uncertainty and coming clean with self.
EmVidar Aug 2022
I've forgotten you
the only way I can
You no longer have a face
Your laugh no longer a sound I hear  
Songs are skipped
instead of played on repeat
I can't remember if your eyes were blue
maybe green? were they brown
Instead you are a name
replaced with neutral terms
A memory for stories
that exist only because you had
at one point

-em vidar
Anais Vionet Jan 2021
A child is somewhere scribbling,
not quite knowing what to say,
a ****** with a habit of empty words.

The smart money’s on failure
and I can’t seem to sleep,
because the moon is leaking sliver fears.

The polar-bear cocktail,
paints a chalk barricade,
that incoherent scolding's cannot climb.

Hope went unnoticed,
until it was lost,
but sudden silence
- came to make me new.

The marks of quiet panic
- those flickering tattoos,
fade - like specters in the sun.

In the company of kindness,
peace glitters just like glass,
and the witch in the mirror slinks away.

You’ll find me at the exit,
heading for a steady sea,
my uninformed perspective’s in my bag.

I navigate like driftwood,
hoping for a return trip,
my plans are coherent in my dreams .
scribbling notes from incoherent dreams
Mark Wanless Sep 2020
there are no exits
but the ones we do create
this here is just now
Shruti Atri Dec 2014
The time we ran out of,
The water that ran past this riverbank,
The opportunity for letting go,
The exit left behind...
All choices, all roads not taken are forgotten
Where did the forgotten things go
Is there a way to get to them again?

Could I wish for a rewind?

*I want a redo
An overdo
If ever you've wondered how unforgiving the hourglass can be...

— The End —