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Who Are You By Jet
*** Who are you to tell me what to do
you don't even know who I am I can't count the number of lies that you
told me how I wish you could believe you
when you tell me that you love me when you say that to me its just hallow
words who are you to tell me that my dreams
are foolish you know nothing about my dreams
after all you were never around you tell me that you care but how can you when
you are never there when I need you who are you to say who I can or can't
date you don't get a say in my love life
with how you never showed me any love you make hallow gestures
you tell me nothing but lies you say I can count on you
when I try to get help from you all that happens is you look at me like
I'm a freak you tell me to take care of it myself who are you to try to get in my life
you were never there for me growing up so you have no right to be in my life
now if you wanted to be in my life
you should have been part of my life since day one
a cow of colorful hues ~
for kevin ~
there was that sat in a tree a cow of colorful hues
who, perched in a birch, issued not moos but mews
~ a dog came to investigate & cautiously approached, but on reaching the birch the cow he reproached:
~
me thought a cat dwelt in this tree, but 'tis only a bovine i do see! & with this there came a great
CRASH! as the cow she did fall from the
tree ~
the brightly colored cow did fall & 'pon the dog she did;
the cow got up & uttered, strange, a canine the shape of a lid
~ & so the bright cow did wander & in her pink head did ponder: such things as this are rarely
viewed then danced away gingerly &
quietly mewed ~
kung pao yak
in the dim light i see the reflected glint of something shying in turns and shades still to little to see
undefined slowing in a blue glow an echo raps along a hall
pooling at the high ends of its sound resonant
through these muffled corridor attenuating inaudible
as it refracts and fades into green vibration
something tactile floats aloft dips away as in red reflex
nothing there but still the hairs arisen
drifts across the skin a second yellow feel
an electric scent in the air something burnt or blooming
it hangs as it wisps away across and grey it lingers still adrift
the smell of what’s on the wind on the outskirts of scent a pale taste in the mouth
of soot and scent catches at the edge of the taste of food
follows the tongue back to the bitter taste and disappears the floundering of the peripherals
the subtle change encountered imaginary
only what we perceive and fail to perhaps then a placebo
a creative whim ebbing upon our input
an artificial white
Glass poetry-Autumn harsh an omen carriedLively growth claws out through green grassearth grows armor we have buriedfor winter's screech and snowy brass-There above you see the meaningand feel the vacancy of freezewords suggest but go careeningWhat better use have we for these?-The higher truths the artists seekare bound in metaphors' dark sheetfor reasons known when poets speakthe rift of mind to hand to beat-With all the meaning sensoryMere words become illusory--PNKRK244/ RW
frailty _____________ I know my frailty inside my skin constructed icicles reveal my framework and have for years created the façades that the world recognizes as me . as long as I remain cold I am strong but I am melting inside it scares me to be delicate listening to the crinkly ice crack as the warmth of a voice penetrates the ice . I am afraid of the consequences of being loved I struggle with choices that I am not allowed to pick I began with pure glacial ice ends with the salt of tears dropping slowly but steady into the vastness of life’s next journey . Feign
By: OYamIandUOa place to leave my stay….
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~a shining star which gleams for you
a shining star aboveits light a glowing guiding torch
a shining star aboveof glowing guiding lovely pastwhich gleams to light our way
a shining star that guides our patha light that leads away
*a shining star which gleams for you
a shining star afraidits sparkle cold which draws us in
a hold we venture therea shining star above our hearts
and peace beneath our feetwhich brightens now the fallen snow
which melts our weary flesha shining star above our hearts
a light that gleams in waita secret pace to end of days
a slowing place of fate*
a secret place at end of daysa secret place that shines
a quiet place for us to waitthe shinning star aligns
a final place to rest our feara pace to reach our home
a shinning shimmer in the nightfor faithful feats atone
*
a secret pace which knows our hearta shine that guides our way
a shimmer frosting midnight skiesa torch that guides our way
a shinning star that knows our thoughtsa secret place we yearn
a shining star, a sleepy pacea final place to turn
*and finally we rest at last
and finally we bravea pace which slows away the days
and shades away to fadeit led us here in sleeping lace
a place we can’t betraythe weave of foot prints in snow
a tired eye we've saveda shining star still glimmering
the snow, a shiver, warmsa shinning star above our heads
a frozen desert thorn
I Am ...
I am master of my destiny We can share the reward I can solve the mystery
We as one move forward I have faith in my dream
We are never uncouth I see things to redeem We are joined by truth
. I am true to my soul They say it will end I have paid my toll
They want me to bend I feel pain in my mind
They hint I'm a fool I search for all time
They just sit and drool .
I could make up excuses For better or worse
I feel it would be useless For I stay on my course
I will never give in For I'm true to myself
A time to begin I am who I am
... EyeOfTheTiger2u7
AKA Ken October 14 2013 ©
( All Rights Reserved )
bouquet of heather & thistle~
I gave to her a bouquet, a bouquet of heather & thistle,& I said to her my love, this song is my epistle
(as for my guilt, I can barter no acquittal)~
& I sang to her a song that mimicked the babbling brook,& I gave to her myself,& her innocence I took
~& I gave to her body lying long
a long low wolf whistle;I played upon her milky skin
a song of quivering flesh,so that our souls were enmeshed,
~then I wrote for her a poem
that cracked her brittle heart stone& I served to her a meal
of succulent meats & gristle.~
my love, she cried a tearout of her beautiful eye
& heaved her breast to utterone devastating sigh:
~many a song goes unfinished
as many a heart grows diminished;~
when I ate the succulent meatsI was choked by the gristle,
~when I bent to sniff the heather
I was pricked by the thistle,~
when I read your poemit cracked my brittle heart stone,
~when I listened to your song,
I knew that I was home~
Jeff Trudell([email protected])
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self portrait`
i woke to weeping willows
passing under a bridgewater lilies
everywhere in bloomshades
of cerulean; cadmium, cobalt and indigo
`i dipped my fingertips
into the blue and watchedthe colors swirl
`i saw Monet weeping
with his easel on the shoreand watched his tears
droponto the canvas
in color
c.s. fox
ALBERTA AUTUMN DAWNS & IN HER DAWNING SUN TICKLED CLOUDS BLUSHCERULEAN AZURE & ROSE BLOOM AMID
SILVER LIMNED & BLUSHINGCLOUDS MAJESTIC FLOATING, GOLD &
GREEN THE GRASSES SEEMBURNISHED, BRIEFLY THEIR TIPS AFIRE,
YOUNG TREES NAKED VULNERABLESTARKLY ARE SILHOUETTED, SENTINALS IN WAITING ALONG THE SHALLOW HILLS
WHILE STATELY CONIFERS CONFER APART, WHO WHISPER NOW
THE MORNING CAN START; GOLD & CRIMSON SOME REMNANT LEAVES,& HOW A REVENANT THEIR BEAUTY TEASE WHILE A CHESTNUT MARE,
THROAT MUSCLES RIPPLE, AT THE AGED OAKEN TROUGH TIPPLES
~JEFF TRUDELL ([email protected])
It's not my fault i am orangemy parents are that way tooonly they live in the jungle and i am stuck in the zoooh no, here come the noise makersand their parents tagging along behindi hope they don't stay too longi will pretend i don't mindmaybe if i act mundanethey wont go insanei hate when they stareyou would think i don't have hairits not my fault i am orangethey look at me as if i am strangeas if they have never seen another like me beforebut if they saw things from my perspectivethey wouldn't come here any more`c.s. fox
Death Garden~
The old woman stood in her garden
Of cabbage and Welsh onions... The soil covered daily with
a frosted layer of ash;Ash that would fall from the sky
Around the clock...Much like the disturbing gun
thunder In the far off distance.
~Amongst the Spindle and
EdelweissHummingbirds hovered in
hypnotic stasisDrawing from the nectar
Deep within the flowering ovaries.
~On the other side of a rail depot
Guard dogs barked above a deadened stillness
Inside the brick walls and barbed wire;
Saboteurs of silence.How can life and death
Be in such close proximity?A human freight train came
Every other dayEmptying out its unfashionable
cargo.Their remembrance of decency
Had ended long agoAs they were shoved and
proddedLike caged animals,
Their captives towards the compound.
A tower sentry looked down From his elevated platform Observing the proceedings.The psychology, of course,
Was that I'm up hereAnd you're down there;
You're not human.Unlike the strong wave of
propaganda His fellow soldiers had
adoptedHe was not fully at peace
with the Graphic images...and smells
Life now served up;His personal brainwashing
Not fully completed.~
The eyes of the sentry and old woman Now met
In an exchange of the truthAs if to say...
Even God seems to stay away.
From this unholy place.~
One day the gun thunder will die down;
The ash will enrich the soilAnd the trinity will appear
again.~
~ ....ian~ 4-24-12
~ dark poetry
if silence had a voice`what is it about the silencewe crave it during the dayon little excursions outsideor even to the restroom just for a second of silence`how strange that that same silencecan wake a slumbering childnot our conversationsor the movie on tvbut the silence`how is it silence can soothand scareat night it lurks and we lay waitingduring the day we seek it outhow can it be both`with infants we welcome itwith death we have no choice`perhaps if silence had a voicewe would know`c.s. fox
Manifest Destiny ~
my language is surfeited by the idioms of conquering tribes
~squaw with papoose sighted on a bead, funny,the way she trembles against snow is almost
human,the smell & sheen of oil on blue barrel
is enough to give a god fearing man a hard on. ~
the white devil may smile as he takes us, my son,& you will think me perverse that I struggle to find
joyeven now while your bright red face is open in
pain.your cries fall flat against the snow,
but it is best we go together to the sky.do you understand? two sharp reports echoa moment before the air behind him is split.
shaft drives deeply right of spine, cleanbetween ribs, pushes diamond shaped headout through soft belly. The cap'n said leave
tomorrow,home to the wife & kid he thinks while he pivots &
dies. ~
Jeff Trudell (kung pao [email protected])
…As We Sit Here…. By: Dreadlox~
There are wars going on In far off desolate places
…as we sit here;Where unspeakable
Atrocities are taking place.There are card games being played
To ease the tension of Tomorrow’s missile strikesAnd disabling road side Landmine explosions.
~There are friends laughing
And smoking cigarettes and Talking of family back home;
Shaken and nervous… About what was lost today
And who is not going home…Tomorrow.
~There are fatigued medics that
Can’t get to the inflicted Fast enough.
And fallen casualties with Ghastly wounds and
Compelling stories of bravery;Patiently waiting for their turn
On the operating table.
There are maimed soldiersLying in their infirmaries
Waiting to be med-evictedTo a hospital to begin months
Of rehab to learn to walk again. and there are caskets being built
That young men will lie inAnd flown back “to the States”
Honored and draped in anAmerican flag.
~And somewhere
There are stories being written For newspapers about these places
And about these heroes.…And back home there are Americans leafing through
Their papers to get to the NASDAQTo see how their portfolios did today
Or checking the sports page;More concerned about who
Won last night’s Packers game.~
~ …….ian~ 11-16-10
Static`Nothing new to sayor seesame rainsame treessame day it seems.`The seasons keep revolving.Spring is way ahead of mewhile I am still stuck in winter,`and everythingseems defiant.The buds on the treesblink and are leavesthe clouds are consuming`and the rain is relentlesslysliding down my window pane.Nothing new will remain,yet everythingseems the same.``C.S. Fox