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 May 15
Nick Durbin
The cold distance between two hearts,
Once beating simultaneously, in unison -
A small disconnection,
A simple malfunction,
Unforeseen miscommunication amidst unvanquished certainty -
Muzzled, tightened grip,
Cloaking an angst shell of a body,
Harvesting repressed emotions,
Alluring a passive tongue -
Releasing an outpour of an outcry in an outburst,
Retribution -
Freedom released from with-in,
Healing of a contorted soul...
Commence.
 May 15
Nick Durbin
The eerie existence of a simple moment,
           Small and finite, yet full of pretentious meaning...
                                   Simply crossing through dimensions -
                       Almost systemiatically defining life,
           Clarity amongst a constant ibid of chaotic misdirection.
Leaving us with profound instances of life,
                                                                       death,
                                                                            love and loss...
 May 15
Nick Durbin
The end of a beginning,
The solitude of a heart -
When the memories dwindle...
All that I knew of you,
Begins with love -
And ends with hate.
An ending I had hoped would be different, but t'was the only ending you had seen.
 May 15
Nick Durbin
You have now stripped me to my bones..
Bare, bruised and battered,
Left alone; undone -
I have but few words remaining -

I love you, and this will be my last breath of you...

Turning from you now, as you have turned from me,
Each step distancing our once solidified foundation -
A rising fire, extinguished by an unforeseen ending,
I no longer will await the day you had promised...
For these futile thoughts of us will fade,
Our love whither -
Our love perish -

Simply put...
This is good bye.
 May 13
Stephen E Yocum
I worship the stars, the moon,
the sun, this earth I stand upon.
Nature and all the peaceful
living breathing creatures that
share this space, the rivers that
course, the oceans that ebb and
flow. The rains that keep us green
the fields that keep us fed.
The ancient tribal people knew
this and put their faith in nature
and the celestial universe and they
thrived for thousands of years.
Some of my modern fellow humans
don't seem to understand, that all
this we already have is truly our
Heaven on Earth.
Better to pay homage to Mother
Earth, she is the god we need, if
she, the moon and or sun go, we
all go, and nothing will remain.
 May 12
Girlrinth
I used to think chastity
was a five year old who
knew nothing about ***.
The kind of innocence
I longed for as an adult too much.
Now a ****** who knows everything.
I still hate that to this day.
Yet what’s wrong  with
a tiger striped dove?
Fight in the flight or visa versa.
A lot of people in our culture
view purity as something *****.
Yet a lot of people in our culture
view the ****** as way too cool.
Where is the balance?
There has got to be one.
Chastity to me is staying
true to the one you love.
There is so much more!
this is one of my extremely rare good days. I’m fighting something extremely difficult right now. I’m seriously trying to stay off social media BUT… this post hit me.
https://youtu.be/GPLsK3I-VIE?si=GbPhmeLMP6LpBxqt
 May 11
Nat Lipstadt
happened upon an extravaganza of spring’s hallmark,
the cherry blossoms outing their munificence of color,
I happened to position myself direct below a tree,
the thicket
of blossoms so, well, thick, that sky was obliterated ‘cept
for pointillistic spots of blue sun, yellow sky that poked
through the
few de minimus interstitial spaces permitted, and was
struck silent, by-for-before shimmering eyes that uttered the
requisite oohs and ahhs,

and

words came to me weeks later,
when the memory, now fully decanted,
reappears
courtesy of a giant tech company’s code tinkering,
merging and splurging the combined images in the
photographic memory
of my devices,
as if to say:
your life is
points of light and color and scent
as you write now
amidst the hubbub of jackhammers, raucous horns a blaring,
the homeless screaming on the street at god,
the fatalistic headlines of hate and
the pallor of a low level haze of perp~gray
between you and your true elfin self,
and you are not surprised,
but sadly, but not entirely,
bemused
that the photo’s true utility was to
remind weeks later
that all that my eyes utter
is not just
woe, double trouble and toil, toil,
but to Hey Jude and George,
step out and see the park on a Sunday
in its entirety and to glory in
your being
by being
a point in that tapestry spectacular
of ingestion, digestion and final comprehension and
a happy

exhalation
across the course of
May 2024
 May 3
Marshal Gebbie
Shade into shadow as eventide's darkness
Slips to the call of the curlew by night,
Days amble by in a curtain of sameness
Taken for granted until there's a fright.

Shade into Shadow and thence into blackness
Transition freezes to polar like pall,
Abruptly the curtain curtails the performance
As actors retreat at a horror recall

Shade into shadow in depths descended
A shaking the head as cogniscence takes heed,
Bloodlessly blasphemy curdles the heartstrings
Wrending tomorrow's tendence to bleed.

Shade into shadow as battle lines rendered
Mustering courage, embracing my wife,
Clustering close to the portends that matter
Shedding the superficialities of life.

Shade into shadow and thence into sunlight
Girding the soul with the grace of the day,
Meeting the foe at the edge of the abyss
Hurling him down with his claws of clay.

Shade into shadow extending before me
Light in the lingering tones of the eve,
Positivities beacon is beckoning
Seeking the smile of tomorrow's reprieve.

M@Foxglove.Taranaki.NZ
3 May 2024
The Battle Lines are Drawn
We beat it once, we'll beat it again!
 Apr 24
Kurt Philip Behm
‘My Oldest And Dearest Friend’

It’s hard to explain the organic quality of a road unless you’ve been down it. Perhaps on a Motorcycle, in the dark and the rain, sometimes afraid, but always with your senses more alive than at any other time.

More feeling The Road than seeing it, and more wishing for the outcome than its certainty, The Road you choose is one that you must travel alone.

The Road knows that I am faithful and no longer in search of another mistress. I ride in awe of her beauty as she brings out the very best in me. Wanting her all to myself, she laughs at my folly, telling me that: “Of course, she belongs to me and to me alone,” as she watches me leave. The breath inside of me exhales, but the memory of what’s not forgotten lingers, and I go to bed each night in a cheap motel feeling her turning inside me once more.

Alone on her twists and turns, my thoughts become guided taking me to places in her grandeur that I would never have gone before. Never promising destination, only duty bound, allowing me to find myself within every drop and elevation that her direction leads.

The Road Only Travels One Way … The Way I Need To Go

I am with her during times of her sickness too. Sitting in the waiting room of her road construction, I watch the large machines rip open her back, replacing what’s vital within her and allowing her to take me to places I have never seen.

The mountains and canyons stand in awe of The Road realizing they only sit in reference to what The Road already knows. Without The Road, their splendor would only be a bleak reminder of potential greatness within themselves. Without The Road to tell the story, their narrative becomes self-serving and unwashed and then unknown — not even forgotten. It is only The Road and its traveler that carries their message for today and a thousand more as it has always been. Footpath or gravel, asphalt or concrete, the surface is only that. It stands as an invitation to the traveler who is quickly absorbed in the motion it instills.

The Road can never offer you safety — protection being the veil that keeps enlightenment out. The Road offers much more. In its total exposure, it removes all invisibility exposing you for what you are today while presenting again what its next turn may bring. The Road places all things in motion, carrying your message inside its spirit while delivering you to a place of immediacy where you arrive alone.

The Road begins where excuses end, leaving weakness along its apron, allowing only true meaning to pass through and by. The Road has no toll beyond the one you set for yourself and has no permanent ending. Endings are something that have already been discarded and left behind.

Do you wish to be great or just to live among greatness? The Road never makes you choose. The Road needs to be ridden like oceans need to be crossed — all meaning pent up in the traverse of its direction. Understanding is just a myth here. True knowledge waits in the deliverance of how you feel once the travel is done.

There is no deal making to be done with The Road, that is for the hitchhiker and those from a lesser time.

If The Road ever were to end, it would end in the transcendence of your spirit — the place where lovers go to die and children of a greater God are born again. The Road gives you this without your asking, and without praise or blame you are accepted for who you have now and forever become.



(The West: August, 2011)
 Apr 24
Thomas W Case
There are miracles when I open my eyes.
The smile on the cat, the taste of strong coffee.
A Beethoven symphony while I taste dark chocolate.
I exist in the present, next week is nebulous.
The touch of my baby's cheek against mine
defeats the demons and destroys chaos.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lgXtR-Z6G9s
Check out my you tube channel where I read my poetry.
 Apr 21
Stephen E Yocum
In the end we are the sum
total of the effort we invested,
or conversely our failed deficiency
in that regard. With no one to
appreciate or blame, but ourselves.
 Apr 21
Marshal Gebbie
Why strive to please anybody?

Why not lay out the cards as they present themselves?
Why garnish the truth to seek approval, seek acceptance?
This is exactly the way we got ourselves into this God Almighty mess!
....and should you not think the world is in a mess...take a long, hard look around you....I mean really LOOK!

See what's going on...then tell me it all makes sense?

Listen to the ******* being brayed by the media, by the politicians, by the Federal Bank, by the Industrial-Military complex....the religions, of pretty well every ****** city of every ****** nation.

The criminally leveraged propaganda insisted upon and injected daily to a gullible, airhead of a planet??

...And the feral truth of the matter is, if you hide your head in the sand...You end up satisfying NOBODY!

(Particularly and most damagingly.... YOURSELF!)

M@Foxglove.Taranaki.NZ
Actually a response to CJ Sutherlands verse..."A Poet's Worst Fear"
but in actual fact, a rant about the blatant falsity of it all, today.
 Apr 19
Anais Vionet
Winter’s releasing us from its perpetually gray and gloomy grip.

Who can study in their room, on a beautiful spring afternoon?
Azaleas assail ya, with champagne petals of bubblegum fuchsias,
they blush in near neon reflection, with a mathematical, fractal perfection.

Courtyards that were once dark and uninviting, frosty scenes,
sport impromptu manicured carpets, of flawless, vibrant greens.

Dogwoods explode, abruptly overnight, with cherry blossom whites
they blush like brides on parade, they sachet, swaying flag-like bouquets.

Ordinary maples become emerald queens by unfurling avocado, hunter and chartreuse leaves,
accented with vibrant electric limes and honeydews, as if to say, ‘We too can please.’

New life stretches, almost yawning, in the seemingly reborn sun, insects hum as they cultivate,
birds flit excitedly, as if to say,  ‘Why’re you inside? Come out and play - why do you even hesitate?’

I know there’s something in spring that’s irresistible, pheromonal, hormonal, surfeit and emotional.
Is it the solar zenith angle or the sun’s declination that produces these delightful inclinations?
.
.

Songs for this:
Funky Galileo by Sure sure
You get what you give by New Radicals
New World Coming by Cass Elliot
BLT Merriam Webster word of the day challenge: Surfeit: too much, excess, more than you need.
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