Peaces of Eternity
© Kirsten E. Huffman
Eternity: endless space, endless time.
Perhaps eternity is nothing more than that.
Death, where does it fit in?
There is the possibility that eternity
Is what we find when our flesh is dead.
Peace: calmness, tranquility.
Peace, I believe is exactly that.
Death, very controversial here.
Some believe that death brings the soul pain.
Some believe that it brings the soul peace.
I would like to believe that eternity and Peace go hand in hand.
Peaces of eternity: endless calm, timeless tranquility.
Peaces of eternity should be that.
Death should bring us peaces of eternity.
We don't know what death brings us,
So why not ease some fear by believing this?
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AUTHOR of this poem.
Emptiness of The Heart
© Kirsten E. Huffman
Emptiness of the heart is a widely suffered disease.
It leaves the heart fully exposed for depression to
seize.
There aren't words to describe the pain it puts one
through.
They go on searching for the person, the cure, the
one that is true.
Emptiness of the heart is excruciatingly hard to deal
with.
The idea of happiness within one's self alone is only
a myth.
The heart even though it is empty is heavy with sorrow.
Causing the hate of yesterday and the dread of tomorrow.
Emptiness of the heart has or will plague all.
When it comes upon you be careful not to fall
Into the hands of depression or dejection.
Care not about acceptance and rejection!
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Chat Poetry Intimacy
© Joelle Abruzzo
I'm a spritual bonsai
emotionally masturbating
leading a rich internal life
all by myself
O I'm twisted,
but I'm beautiful..
Don't touch me!
You wouldn't understand.
I'm lurking in the chat room
expose my rhyming privates.
Discharge my burning issue
anonymously.
Do you have a kleenex?
I really have to go now.
I thank you all,
and you can keep the change.
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Crinkled paper, faded words
© Teri 96
My paper smooth,
cool to the touch,
so sleek and glossy white.
To place my pen
upon the page,
ink ran in bold delight.
Our world was only
seen in words,
as a flower to the eye.
Exchanging thoughts,
perceiving life,
the how's, the when's, the why's.
Time now has passed,
all words have ceased,
like a flower, it slowly died.
My paper, now crinkled,
faded words on the page,
my pen has finally run dry.
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Empty
© L De Miguel
The air dances
to fresh Winter
rhythms,
chilled tongues
lash, bite, nibble
and scribble away
your warmth,
you find your spirit pulled
like the salt water taffy
and you see it leave your body
emigrating, gone in cool misty silk
You remember looking up at it
so bright this night,
consistent as the serial killer
you are not spared it's rage
nay, the craters
delight upon your meekness
and weakness
they laugh and mock every
dimple at your suffering
the whole world is alive
the whole world knows you're dead
Grass blades cannot turn away
your boots, insects too slow
die on the spot, a mini sacrifice
for your sacrifice, or perhaps
just a preliminary round
on tonight's fight card
Worms rise up on thick
sticky stalks, and salute you
they know, they know,
it is in the air
the utter defeat of a man is
rejoicement, for they hunger too
they applaud your move
and you feel it
in the tapping of your bones,
in your laboring lungs,
and your gray white step
You walk the field the last time
hearing things for the first time,
the gun is thick in your hand,
solid in your resolve,
calling you across the sea,
the sirens singing, pleading,
pulling you away,
from this empty world,
and your empty pain.
-end-
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Shadow Whisper
© L De Miguel
I heard you
across the shadows,
conjuring my name,
feeling my flame,
breathing me in
I untangle
my entanglements,
supplicate
my requirements
clarifying
refinements
I can feel you scrying for me
searching for my passing
the wind
chilled, and biting
without me
I hear your voice
it lullabies me,
and magnifies me
polarizes me,
and crucifies me
I am a martyr
and your lover
you know me like no other
all my roads,
curvy, slick
wet and dry
my map is yours
to my heart
We dip our thoughts
from the same well,
bleed the same blood,
live the same tale,
you found me, or
did you hear my call
sometimes the world
can be so very small
so tight
so right,
shadow darkness
whispers night.
-end-
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GroundBreaking
© L De Miguel
Who is that
Following me,
mocking me,
mimicking me,
a wax figure
Hollywood refugee
with my eyes
ear
and bone
You mirror
my every passage
my every retreat
you humble me
with your mockery
sir
seducing and compelling
observing and obstructing
tearing her defenses
assaulting her foundation
making her question
her life, her motives
Who is that
making the move on my girl
my lust
Who is but my ego
sifting my psyche
sand searching
for my start button
doing things
that the spineless me
can only dream of
He who works the joints
loosening bolts
of her capture
WD40
with that
long
long
red
straw
the love
lubricant
I show the
pauper grin
with the thin gold nickel
He is on my side
this time.
-end-
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Address Unknown
© L De Miguel
Forgive us,
For we do not know what we do
We search for truth
Even when we know it's not true
Our sins,
Are like our skin
It covers the flesh and bone
Yet we do not know
Where it ends
We do not know
Where it begins
Same birth
Same death
It's the end that becomes
The true test
Forgive us
For we do not know what we do
We search the caverns
And the cubby holes
Every nook and cranny
Yet we do not know
Where to find you
So we experiment
With reckless abandon
From West to East
And half way back
From Born-Again Christians
To Born-Again Witchcraft
We do not know
Which way to attack
So we cover the bases
Till we find the right track
And still we cannot find you,
We search war torn streets
And enterprising ghettos
Upper class neighborhoods
Stocked with presidential bedfellows
Once in a while we might get lucky,
Find your footprint on a child so small
Perhaps smell laughter, after disaster
When crying should be taking it's toll
But when the smoke clears,
It seems you were never there at all
Forgive us for asking you,
For we do not know what to do
Are you passed, or simply in hiding
We have been searching high and low
Have you forsaken your children
Or have we been lying
To ourselves and our posterity,
We have been told so carefully
You would be here in our hour of need
We've been waiting so long,
In such a corrupt place
Won't you just show us a trace, or even a taste
Of your love?
-end-
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AUTHOR of this poem.
Rubberband and Rubberbound
© L De Miguel
I wanted to write you a love poem
I was afraid though
I didn't want to make a prison of you
Bars, out of verbs, words
And metaphors
Shape shifters, night scrapers
French rapiers
Tongue twisters
all the same
they're all the same
Double innuendoed
dildoes
that fuck us
this way or that
gets lost between
the pen strokes
between love's
hope
I didn't want to make a prison
out of our love
but I did it for you
anyway.
-end-
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Taking the hand of the Reaper of Breath,
I step into a river of a color long past black.
Stooping to trail my fingers across it's cold face,
I glance behind me, to the shore,
where the other self motions me back,
the self that craves sunshine, hot bright beaches
and Demeter's gentle embrace.
Her lips mouth promises I will not hear.
Crossing with my newest lover,
I sigh with the pleasure of it,
the bone chill life-deep, caressesing me.
I skip the stones of my soul
and they dance the surface,
and sink to unbearable, lost depths.
I do not fear to follow them.
My dark lover smiles at me,
kisses me with decay;
his aching fingers slip life raiment
from my shoulders, to drop beneath
the mirrored waves of my past.
I turn, just once more,
to the other, upon a shore too distant
for memory, and too empty for regret.
She stands, forlorn, her arm draped
with lilies and forget-me-nots.
Turning again to the nearer shore,
I offer my icy love this heart.
A silent, mirthless laugh escapes
that lipless mouth and he tosses it,
still beating, to the hound at the door.
I step from the water, baptised
in it's pure cutting current,
and pat the head of Cerebus,
who wags his tail in welcome.
I am home.
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In love, the name of which yet slips from me,
I took the lives of men at your bidding.
You called me Dark Woman, magic Dream-Witch
But I was no more than other women
To you, who asked of me the lives of kin
And bound in them my guilt and shame and loss.
In love, oh Golden man, did I annoint
Your body in my liquid caress to save
You from the dragon's teeth, reaping what I
Did not truly sow. Better I planted
Them cruelly deep between my bitter thighs.
Oh how you praised my wit and cunning wiles
Asking of me even my brother's flesh
So that he now walks to me in nightmare,
His arms outstretched, his face blank betrayal.
How you wanted me, more than any fleece
I thought, I believing, exiling myself
In stark demon-madness of desire.
Opened to you as no other I gave
You sons, the pain of birth my gift again.
Worship, like sin, has its own agony.
If not a sacrifice, hymen and kin,
And magic arts, then there are none of earth.
I gave and gave until emptied, my soul
No longer free. That Corinith-bitch was sweet
To you, sweeter than I, exiled again
By love, by you. Now, look! Our sons lie dead
And your princess whore is gowned in Hades.
Now look! At me, the shaft of Cupid's joke
An eternal, corrupt diamond forever
Within my breast, plunged past reason and hope.
Jason, my broken Love, carry this sin
Across aching years that chasm, deathless
In front of you. I leave you to this doom,
My own demons I have embraced, knowing
Behind you, pursuing, the hounds of Hell,
Baying for blood that stains your black heart.
Oh yes, my Love, this cast-off enchantress
Shall dance on sanity's waking edges,
And curse you to share my cold, fickle Fate.
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AUTHOR of this poem.
STRAIGHT FROM THE HEART
© TR JORDAN
My heart beats yet no blood is spread
through the body too much I've bled
No pulse no beat no place to go
To heaven I hope only god knows
So much wrong yet only i know the tune to my song
So much hatred in the air
People fussing and fighting and saying they don't
care
The truth is this before its too late
Make peace find love and spread the word to not hate
Do the right thing not the wrong thing
Theres so much going on
Before its too late
Before you're in your grave
under six feet.
Spread the word and enjoy your life to the fullest
Because tomorrow is not promised to us.
Peace.
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