Twisted

In the world of reason, we might often be heathen

to the natural process, the value in what we obsess.

A chasm of despair, is a step away from repair,

unless lonely silent hearts, might know true their art.

Once, in an active day, our bodies will feel so gay,

our lives as we live, together do feel truly alive.

A circumstance of truth, often felt in our youth,

might carry then the miles, that now will prevent smiles.

Yet we certainly always can, walk tall in a short span,

if only this message, of such shattered visage,

decline its oft felt shudder, that fear we will utter

nonsense as enlisted, always worry, so twisted.

We welcome the grace, that elegance of release,

soon overwhelming our quiet need for peace.

If, Only

'the bond' © Jessica LaRue

‘the bond’
© Jessica LaRue

***

I could hold you in my palm,

piqued eyes glance my strangeness,

allowing for the moment

such unusual paths,

yours one of fancy flight

mine left to observe.

~

If, only

we could share the brilliance

around us in morning’s light,

soft petals of forest ground,

delicious ambers in meadow

I cast my eye upon the world

you stream in swept glide.

~

Might, then

our pain begin to subside

when in Nature’s oneness

each avenue we choose

could be the same as our

hearts seem to yearn often

in the break of day, quiet nigh.

~

Now, when

we are together alone as one

our worlds collide with peace

I study your balanced agility

while you glance my curiosity

the skies remain the same

two worlds, similar dreams

~

If, only that freedom

Monster, Depart

Cherice Moralez

Cherice Moralez

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I am judging you

trust me, I hate you right now.

Can you imagine the wrath,

the thousands whose lives you have

marginalized!

In my eyes,

you are a monster,

your look, your glance, your eyes,

all remind me of evil.

I would open the door to watch you go away,

forever, I don’t really care.

~

I do weep for her,

for all of her friends,

for so many of her peers,

for everyone you have taken for granted,

with an arrogant desire to defile

that truly innocent,

that only delightful,

her ever so vulnerable life.

~

to Cherice Moralez

I bid you adieu with no fanfare for your monster.

~

You, monster, are an unnamed evil reality

 

Cry Only For Me

tear

‘enter the void’ © jessica larue mccann

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

~

Cool morning frost play upon car windows

knowing what lies ahead, wanting something

else that might suit her mood. Always a glance

yet sometimes only the damp wind that blows

across naked skin; trudges unwilling

toward another circumstance. When chance

sweet spiritual grace in peace drawn love

embrace the pained heart quiet, walking soft

only will stir the common soul whose Eyes

keep watch. We may all listen, mourning dove

elegant and resonant we will oft,

skip her coo, delightful tones, eery wise.

When while a world remains our earthly draw

In silent respect may we then know Awe.

 

 

Getting Along Together

Sharon Cummings

Terrace Gallery  © Sharon Cummings

 

***

We could be a couple

if your hair wasn’t black;

your eyes are brown

doesn’t work for me.

Yet, wait, they, her, my

parents taught me

that such truths are lies.

~

We could be together

with our hearts a-swell

living in the moment

loving one another.

Yet, wait, they, her, my

word the world just

doesn’t want to know.

~

We could have a family

learn to sow the land,

share each other’s language,

melodic and unique.

Let’s live together

in everyone’s Earth;

let Nature be our cure.

I, is You

 

I want to tell you a story,

it takes a bit to get there

somehow I need to find the right words,

that syntax, and grammar, sort of thing.

 

See, I like to use music

as a visual tool to notions,

moments that help me only to say

the right thing, without going wrong.

 

I have this some time theory

about where we are, sort of

why we seem to be doing anything we

appear to be doing in our daily routine.

 

We are all given chance

an opportunity to know

what really truly matters in our simple lives,

we could really save a lot of time – you know.

 

Today, I’m with John Mayall

cruising down the avenue

see he shows me a certain rhythm of sound,

that cadence I need to make my story real.

 

So might you take a bluesy ride

one we are sure to share sound,

the sort of climbing ardent need to know ourselves

in a manner with a gentle beat of sweet ceremony …

 

I once held a truth

a calm sacred oath.

She suggested couth

would reduce your loath

 

for those souls ahead

those lacking clues

may need to be led

along a road of blues

 

We have a duty here

see the skies together

hold your lovely near

get to know the other

 

Our connection to an evening star

has wandered further away, away

gotta grow with leaps and bounds,

instead with sacrifice we look away.

 

Yet, the need to move with speed

screams our morbid human angst

would rather sit alone and stew

than take the time to know you.

 

My story lies inside that emotion

that scares me when you’re standing

nearby your greatest self serving fear;

persons of hue, that, ‘people’ is you!

Quiet Rest Stops

fog

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

~~~

These places exist if we open their doors,

too busy, so afraid, of letting go.

‘My anxiety is nothing like yours;’

sweeping strands become my complacent throes

like winds scream, thunders a prejudice grasp -

Our minds are often sinewy chasms.

When eyes behold our sweet real lives a hasp,

held out hands, breezy thrills, soft orgasms

of heart felt love in the kindness of dreams.

Crawl, explore … a constant lonely surface

of fear persists, always alive it seems.

Shine in torrential rains, alive we face

soft music sharp awaits with beckoned cry:

sooth, glide, strive for love, forget about why.