|
|
Post by Sam on Feb 1, 2007 16:35:13 GMT -6
I will spit in face of death
and tell it to back up....
I will go when I am ready,
when I have finished....
Sam
|
|
|
|
Post by dawness on Feb 4, 2007 4:27:27 GMT -6
how long till the thorns are plucked
by the very same rose that bloomed in
our garden
our garden of eden,
i memorize the sullen face
and the blood once splattered on my face,
looking at my own heavens,
i am ready now to
offer the chalice of forgiveness
|
|
|
|
Post by dawness on Feb 5, 2007 7:43:24 GMT -6
poorer than poor
the reed like figures of south africa
have all the bones on earth
in their bodies
packed like a grocery bag
AIDS and tuberculosis living inside
richer than rich
the diamonds pour like
flowing beads of rice
smeared by blood
tainted by mercenaries
and thieves who exchange
africa's glittering stones for
children programmed to kill
their brethren, bones cracked
by world powers.
diamonds are not bones
|
|
|
|
Post by soulfir3 on Feb 6, 2007 1:55:48 GMT -6
watching the world slowly dying
in an unhurried pace
deprived of all the nurture,
love, peace for all -
aids runs its ruin
as does hepetitis c -
malnutrition leaves the babies numb
and the mother aches for just one more
measly mouthful
of sour tasting grain,
festering spoonful of meat
too grant a child life
buckets of reused water
sit around in piles -
and as the outter world continues on
the world i'm viewing stumbles forward
and another child dies
|
|
|
|
Post by dawness on Feb 10, 2007 9:34:53 GMT -6
oh, soul.... children everywhere; they are all angels to me. how are you? this is a diamond of a gem! thanks for posting it here. will be right back after i had inhaled and exhaled this grrreat piece.
|
|
|
|
Post by soulfir3 on Feb 10, 2007 17:38:06 GMT -6
Thanks Dawness, i read your piece above mine and then saw multiple ads on the tv about sponsoring children in africa etc. I've seen first hand the poverty and conditions those on the streets here in Australia endure and it's always been a bit of a bittersweet note for me.
We're always so gung ho about helping these other nations - which is great, but what about those in our own back yards ?
Otherwise Im alright.. just very tired after spending every day driving back and forwards between my house and town for appoitments and interviews ( about 4 hour round trip ). How about yourself ?
|
|
|
|
Post by dawness on Feb 11, 2007 11:37:59 GMT -6
the film black diamond compelled me to write that poem, soul... and i resonate with you about cleanng our own backyards. have been to australia( sydney) and saw the poorer districts.... still nothing compared to the way children are treated in less fortunate continents. the film made me cringe in my seat that i had to expel the somber mood through seasons site...
rest and nurture the spirit, soul.. i'm in a light pressure cooker which allows me to summon the lighter side of things. driving can really be exhausting, not to mention finding a parking space. whew!
love is on our side--- sending you sweet wishes today and always. take care...
|
|
|
|
Post by dawness on Feb 14, 2007 4:42:50 GMT -6
bloody face of the moon darkens
my room with wails of
dogs calling forth the end of night,
night is a time for sweet respite
mad dogs don't know this
|
|
|
|
Post by soulfir3 on Feb 14, 2007 5:06:54 GMT -6
take from me the blood of my demons
draw its thick viscous lucidity from my veins
give me reason too want to believe
finding peace and haven inside
the rays of the moon beams
unlike the undead being,
whom resides in my soul
left cold, unloving, unwilling
from his intrusive touch
|
|
|
|
Post by anirbas on Feb 14, 2007 13:53:26 GMT -6
i would be the demoncaster,
rising up like after midnight thoughts...
i would be your warrior, unsheathing my cross--
a double edged sword-- to sink into his chest
with a lethal twist, twist, twist...
releasing him of his demons with the kiss of steel;
and you of your's, too, my beloved friend...
i would be your demoncaster...
soon as i finish killing off all my demons...
~*~
*until that moment...it garners much satisfaction,
to invite demons for a dinner of meatloaf...
to which you've added a secret ingredient...
canned cat or dog food...whatever is on hand...
the cheaper the brand the better...more guts in it...LOL...
of course, when inviting demons to dinner for this repast,
one must actually make two batches of meatloaf...
one for you and the children...one for the demon...
just be sure, no one gets the demon's share
by making everyone's and the demon's plate yourself...
Demons so love to be waited upon...
something so satisfying about watching
a demon whom has harmed you aggregiously
eating meatloaf with cat and or dog food in it...
in fact, quite satisfying, i'd say...quite...satisfying...
hope just the visualization, made you laugh, Soulfriend! Sabrina.
|
|
|
|
Post by soulfir3 on Feb 15, 2007 22:32:17 GMT -6
it is as your dead eyes follow my living corpse
that i am reminded,
not all dogs lay sleeping peacefully in the night
|
|
|
|
Post by dawness on Feb 15, 2007 22:45:14 GMT -6
sweetly bleak, soul... what do dogs howl about at night that makes us visit our own inner dragons???
thanks sabs for you delicious post!
|
|
|
|
Post by dawness on Feb 15, 2007 22:46:26 GMT -6
i'd rather have you cold and sullen
by my side
than to wrestle with the much
colder
bitterness of a night that
doesn't recognize my eyes
|
|
|
|
Post by soulfir3 on Feb 19, 2007 23:29:37 GMT -6
the bitter taste of copper leeches into my tongue ~
how sweet you feel,
laying there along side me
with fingernails like razor blades
dragging over tissue like skin
feeling the heat of blood
rise under the fine layer
tremulous against veins
do you feel the slowly pulse ~
blood flows from you
like liquid gold,
potent in its most raw form
i am intoxicated -
drawn without concious effort
too lean forward
and drink of you
the bitter taste of copper lays like a lucid drug upon my tongue ~ |
|
|
|
Post by dawness on Feb 20, 2007 7:54:19 GMT -6
such somber lamentation, soul, beautiful, esp when i put the following lines together:
the bitter taste of copper leeches into my tongue ~
do you feel the slowly pulse
the bitter taste of copper lays like a lucid drug upon my tongue
|
|
|
|
Post by anirbas on Feb 21, 2007 21:04:37 GMT -6
Beautiful stuff, ladies...I feel like I should be whispering for some reason or another...
~*~
Drear and dour after midnight thoughts,
slice like a razor through the jello
of my brain...Setting the organ
to quaking and quivering...
Already in spiritual overload mode...
My heart feels as if it will explode...
And then it does...Odd, I keep breathing, anyway...
|
|
|
|
Post by soulfir3 on Feb 22, 2007 3:07:22 GMT -6
You have stained my finger tips -
the stench of blood fills my senses
mine, or perhaps yours -
of this I am unsure
it lingers in the air, teasing
and yet almost suffocating with it's alluring presence
seeking its source
barbed rocks inflict scours against my flesh
the blood i feel is yours,
pooled now with essence of my own soul
and with shaky fingers
I mark you with mine, waiting for the quiet
spell of night,
too fill your once peaceful dreams
with my nightmares
I bare you like a stain on my finger tips -
|
|
|
|
Post by dawness on Feb 22, 2007 7:29:42 GMT -6
no! you made me read this more than i can, soul... bow, and wow!!! grateful for putting it here.  |
|
|
|
Post by dawness on Feb 28, 2007 9:13:30 GMT -6
and i go from dreary to dreamy
in early blows of night strains
there are no torch lights
to burn the skin of my soul.
it is frozen,
now it's not only dreary,
not even dreamy,
call it deadly.
|
|
|
|
Post by soulfir3 on Mar 1, 2007 3:47:33 GMT -6
laying upon cold white stones
heat of a dying body emits an eerie haze
fingers caressing the faint heart beat
taking from this limp, subdued body
the last embers of hope
|
|
|
|
Post by dawness on Mar 2, 2007 15:48:23 GMT -6
my last call to lift my bones
from the skulls of seagull nest,
i watched you nakedly dressed with flowers
till roots of duck and dark
brittled my love's flesh.
|
|
|
|
Post by dawness on Mar 4, 2007 12:06:30 GMT -6
go on
get a life without my breath
if you can sift the air that
is left
how empty can your life lung
be?
|
|
|
|
Post by soulfir3 on Mar 5, 2007 16:44:23 GMT -6
i still wear the embers of your fury
they are in ever lasting hues of blue
tinged with the red of my own shame
how did i ever love you
|
|
|
|
Post by dawness on Mar 6, 2007 13:30:56 GMT -6
all day your presence
surrounds me with
mixed stew of lightdark lingerings
at night, after midnight
it's still about you.
what about me?
|
|
|
|
Post by soulfir3 on Mar 6, 2007 21:07:33 GMT -6
kiss me -
I am tired of living
share with me your fatal touch -
I no longer wish to see sunshine
|
|
|
|
Post by dawness on Mar 7, 2007 16:34:17 GMT -6
all your shirts packed
in the luggage of shattered dreams,
and here
iam
naked in the night waiting for your
absent embrace
|
|
|
|
Post by dawness on Mar 12, 2007 13:04:24 GMT -6
when will this world
stop and cease to end nights
lonely and dreary?
|
|
|
|
Post by Sam on Mar 12, 2007 15:24:32 GMT -6
You reached into my chest
and pulled my heart out.
I stood there, unable to move
or say a single word in protest.
Why? I will never know...
I stood back
as you turned to go...
I watched until
you walked out of sight
before my body caved in,
and crumbled to the ground.
I think I still had a smile
on my lips...
when the show
was finally over...
Sam
|
|
|
|
Post by dawness on Mar 14, 2007 12:22:57 GMT -6
talk of a stark night that stands
among the daisies embraced
by the last slopes of a moon
that never wants to sit with your
sordid tales of blames and lies.
melt, melt,
morning soon arrives
and this is where you become blind.
|
|
|
|
Post by soulfir3 on Mar 15, 2007 21:15:35 GMT -6
do not talk of me, as though i yours
i am empty and barron
life has not given me the time
nor affection with which i can heal
|
|
Aug 12, 2023 17:23:13 GMT -6
Aug 12, 2023 17:23:13 GMT -6
Dec 15, 2023 21:49:35 GMT -6
Dec 15, 2023 21:49:35 GMT -6