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Posts Tagged ‘soul’

rflower graphic

When potent flowers no longer seduce,
the cat has just one life,
Writer and the chopping block
head-to-head; defeat.
Magnified objects in frozen time
drops the jaw too slow,
words come a second too late,
awkward space ensue.

Crowds take talent to remain unseen,
mind and soul detached,
painter and his model–nude–
nothing else but paint,
one duty, one cause for attention,
emotions: distractions,
the trash lady and her uniform,
hand them to her.

Weight of the world is an understatement
add a century a dreams burnt,
Biblical stories of revival and rebirth,
remain grouped letters.
I rest my case deep in sleep
buried painfully,
that poor bird and its broken wing
doubtful hope in death.

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126

Eyes–
Void of any humanity
dark, forlorn,
Stiffened by rejections,
tangled locks of golden youth
weaved in and out
of hands of broken souls.

If only lit
one fire for the masses
What greatness we would have!
eyes glimmering with childhood fancies
Sweet and even sweeter dreams
cure a shattered tattered
blinded world

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struggle graphic

We were bound by one common theme: Struggle
by nature, both rough unpolished stones,
Time and reality are allies,
they build upon broken steps    and they break again,
Have I broken too–
on my way down nonexistence.

Strange, if not fated, I’ve been torn,
Separated, I face the offspring of madness,
Her face, body,     soul,
I know her well:
little fox hidden under bushes,
the world scorns her,
cleverness a threat to them.

I scorn them back

Together, one after another,
I’ve learned to hate,
she learned to love,
If it be a friendship    or illegal affair,
then there is no glue,
no cure,
for this     separate
Entity.

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Nine men and Death,
Guns loaded and ready–
I am unarmed,
will you still shoot?

Watchers stand nearby,
I bare my pale chest,
Will any one of you,
face the bullets     for me?

Plenty of money waits,
Checks stacked high,
I await a name     just one,
I may hand over to Death.

No one? Will you,
watch me die?
like this:     plump,
full of life?

I write in gold ink,
my checks are worthy,
even the Boatman of Hades
will free my soul.

They’ve raised their guns,
I kneel, implore,
Desperation trickles,
Death can smell.

Your Checks Reek:
They see you as
the face of a stranger,
Trust: as rare as diamonds.

I sputter blood,
Hell opens     I Fall,
must even the ground,
Have no mercy?

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My city,
my heart,
my blood,
Your name
forever mine.
Your breath–
sometimes sweet,
sometimes sharp–
pungent to my soul.
The sound of streets–
lit in the shadow of trees–
hum of late-night walkers,
wooden carts,
Bargains in the making,
Temptation for my soul.

My city,
I see
skyscrapers up high,
Towers of dreams,
wishes good night.
Night is on fire,
Life burns the match,
Smoke upon air
River of wisps–
beautiful scent,
beautiful bosom,
Land of my mother,
Land of my father,
My city,
my heart,
my blood.

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I wait for pain (17)

window

I wait for pain–it does not come
Or if did–it must have missed,
I would have heard the train afar
Before the scream   crushed my soul,
I would have seen the needles fall
Before the ground became my bed
Pinned to earth–
a ragged doll.

Their napkins wet   mine is dry
Pain squeezed tear ducts mine are shy.
When pain should or shouldn’t come,
Society decides   but I refuse
Mine are stubborn   Mine are pinned
or maybe sleeping
that explains–

Oh numbness leave my side today!
A little pain   is not too much,
What life in me must be stirred,
and only by great agony–
blood vessels blown
Will pain come visit
Me

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