The Gap, Australia

#4852 Dec 9, 2012
Were we divided at birth
in that water of creation?
In those violent beginnings of earth
were we marked for separation,
neither part whole?

What else could explain the deep divide,
the bitter disparity of diversification,
the widening gulf of opposite sides,
the threat to our foundation
that will inevitably take its toll?

Why are ones blessed with prosperity
so blind to those mired in poverty?
When did they stop seeing the desperate?
How did the powerful turn on the weak, separate
themselves, use others for gain or control?

Why must we always criticize?
How do we approach the other side?
Where do we find the will to compromise?
When will we learn to put vanity aside?
When.... will we seek humanness for all souls?

The Gap, Australia

#4853 Dec 9, 2012

Since storms and fear affect us each alike,
no count of limbs can measure depth of pain.

With two or four or feathers, hearts maintain
the same innate, intense desire to spike
all hours of need and hope, also the right
to loll in light and warmth—not live in vain.

Could we, confirmed as carnivores, still sane,
decide to change, not kill to eat, but hike
the trail of true equality, yet not
fall prey to further motives to dispatch—
stretch fields for food, obliterate, not learn,
for power and wealth, possession, down with shot?

And would the war against our mortal hatch,
the killing just for killing’s sake, still burn?

The Gap, Australia

#4854 Dec 9, 2012

One man follows
the retreating surf.
One man welcomes
approaching waves.

One man looks east,
One man looks west.
One imagines beyond the horizon,
the other listens for a clue.
They are the same.

Miles separate souls,
that gaze upon stars,
and sky and mountains.

Miles separate minds
that grow to understand
how easy it is
to upset the balance.

The stranger is your mirror.
Look into his eyes,
You are the same.

“Want A Friend, Be One..”

Level 9

Since: Mar 12

Friends Are Great...

#4855 Dec 9, 2012
I love the way you smile,it heals my heart..:O)

The Gap, Australia

#4856 Dec 9, 2012
He was on toes in his twenties
She was in tunes in her teens
He was alone, she was along
He was curious, she was cordial
She was catering to his senses:
With her ply, play and ploy
Her electrifying looks
Greeted his soul to seek
Tricked and kicked his heart
Her smiles rolled on his lips
Her face fashioned fair n’ familiar
Beauty was her boon, his moon
An intangible asset to cassette
It was one to one homely affair
Win-win scene in solitude
Her free style was explicit -
Board of her body language
Her chromatic costumes,
And cosmetic feel of touch
Enshrined in the tablet of his memory
She sang, danced n’ pounced in passion
Coupled up his thoughts
For a couple of hours
Her smart artistic calibre,
Teeming teenage tickle,
Shook up and hooked up
His conduct and character
He could see her face to face
In her filmy on-screen display
Of moving movie telecast
He was her fan in disguise
She was his fiancée in guise
She was artist and articulate
Lo! Love is the mother of life

The Gap, Australia

#4857 Dec 9, 2012
In the midst of this room
I lie still as they put the IV into the crook of my arm- I wince.
A rolled up towel is placed beneath my neck, and
A sheet to cover my legs-
I see flies hovering about the overhead light-
As I breathe oxygen from a rubber mask-
The last thing I recall is
Drifting off into another place in time-
Moments later, so it seems
I am sitting in a chair by the window beside,
Overlooking trees dancing to the tune of
A nightingale’s song,
A late spring’s balmy and gentle wind,
Footsteps softly ambling up and down the hall behind me,
Rudely contradicted by the sound cars rushing down the boulevard outside,
The screaming of sirens and people conversing in the room next door-
These voices that could be real or emanating from my mind- although
It is too soon, after the shock that was induced to my brain
To distinguish reality from unreality-
I clearly remember the spoken words
“Right unilateral” and so it seemed that
Mistrust of the world about me and
Conversations echoing and reverberating throughout my mind as
Emanating from some other place in time-
Would tip toe away from the spirit raging war inside my mind-
Trees dancing and birds carrying on with their soprano tune,
That late spring’s breeze being a chorus of some far away lullaby –
Footsteps following closely behind,
And cars rushing down the boulevard outside-
Have now become my only reality as
I have finally awakened from a peaceful slumber,
Returning to earth from my journey to some other realm-
I have regained my sanity-
Walking away from the magnificent view from the picture window before me only to
Return to the familiarity of every day life and as dove would peacefully do,
I lift my wings, though imaginary
Only to soar above the treetops outside
Leaving my tears behind this time to vanish in that river of despair that
I have known for so long as I flee and abandon the tempest of fear this time-

The Gap, Australia

#4858 Dec 9, 2012
Human ‘madness’
of possibility,
‘waves’ of power
and frequency,
Release me from
the indignations of
my past,
Take me through
the ‘looking-glass’.
Abstain me from
the chains of life’s
‘broken thoughts’,
which morbidly act-
out for nightmares,
so wrought.

The soul needs
to sing to my sugar-
coated pills,
By making the
‘sedated’ brains be
resolute and shrill,
And the doctors
have forgotten the
‘abstract’ brain,
has obtrusions
to seek out love’s
pleasures or pain.

But I pray to
the heart; so that
a cure will shortly
be found, that
unites the minds
of the fallen, with
a folie a deux
of ‘clowns’

Level 2

Since: Dec 12

Location hidden

#4859 Dec 9, 2012
subconcious by david halloway

The Gap, Australia

#4860 Dec 9, 2012
Watermarkwwwwwwww wrote:
subconcious by david halloway
On some days,

you are the angel dust
settled in my bones
keeping these December limbs
and Sunday-morning-coffee eyes

But, other days-
other days, I don't know
what to do
with your tornado jibes,
rage teeth that bite
and tear at my poetic insanity.

With these miles and miles
of bodies and hollow space
between our magnetic hearts-

How is it that these light-year pulses
still beat in sync?

The Gap, Australia

#4861 Dec 9, 2012
I now realize that I am tangled
In a web that is made up of false fears.

Getting out of here will leave me crippled,
I may end up in a river of tears.

I fear I have angered all my close friends
Because I tend to be very clingy.

In the near future I must make amends,
Only they are able to rescue me.

Throughout my life my friends are far and few
Because I am no social butterfly.

It is hard for me to bid them adieu;
Without them, I feel insecure and shy.

I get tired of this pain I endure
Without my friends near me, there is no cure.

The Gap, Australia

#4862 Dec 10, 2012
A love poem
Is the dying breath
Of freedom to be shackled;
A soul to be swallowed;
A coward being consumed.

When this Earth
Reaches precious peace
And lingering love
flourishes into fullness,

My kind,
The analytical mind,
Will no longer
serve a purpose.

The antagonist creation;
Devil's advocate automation
Awaits his resting place:
In your ruins,.....

In your rust.

The Gap, Australia

#4863 Dec 10, 2012
The urge to grab her wrist

Pull her close and cling to her cloth

Hold her face

Press her lips against mine

I fear her eyes on me

Make me anxious

And that desire washes over my skin

To lash out

Shout into her mind

That I would be better

Than any man she should find

I could protect her just as well

Please her

Worship her

I would submit my very self and soul

To hear whispers of lust leave her lips

Her raven hair

Her piercing gaze

I cannot breath

Her spell takes over my bones

Her scent on my clothes

I cannot stand

The want that crawls through my veins

I cannot take

The way she looks at me

The point she puts me in

It will never be fair

I would love her

Better than any soldier

If only she would feel the same

If I cannot have her

Then why can any man?

The Gap, Australia

#4864 Dec 10, 2012
Heart, oh heart,
I sit here writing your name
on pieces of paper,
folded, hidden, misplaced ...
found again.

There is the element of saying
and there is the element of making:
one needn’t choose.
I am singing the dream out from the ice,
asking it to carry me
like a horse or a river, down and away.

This day, here in paned-glass sun:
the young waitress shaking out her apron
and retying it flat across her stomach—
a bit of vanity—her hair swept off her neck,
crash of a milk bottle
on the granite counter, cream
spread in a mild pool toward the rim,
and the roots of habit and longing
briefly seized by the mind.

So noisy here! The sound echoes
out of years, brought to this
showing forth, unrehearsed.
It seems we wake
and find ourselves repeating,
embodying the ancient gestures
by which we recognize
ourselves completed.

Not one of us could be born
and invent life—it must show through us—
the arm flung in the air, the coffee poured out,
and down the street, someone hurrying by,
head down against the wind.

And a man and a woman
come to an old grief,
carved in them, carved
into them
—the old way of water wearing rock—
by law, and the hatred
between them is equal
to the hope neither will release.

Each wants to be whole,
to embody all of time, when nothing
in this world is whole, and
this is by law.

When my grand-father said kindly
to my grand-mother: you have changed,
he meant, without meaning to say,
how she had changed him. A man
holds his head down against the wind.
Yet the wind fills him
with the dust of temples,
the breath of the dead.

The dream of the light
inside the branches—
a gleam of wet, glimmer that is a bud,
the leaf within the bud.

The photographer comes inside
and closes the lens of his camera.
Then he is the lens. Then my eye
is the light. This
is the element of saying.
The young waitress flings a paper cup
behind her, into the trash can.
That is a saying. The cream swirled
into the coffee, the sugar
dissolving, disembodied,
and the body of the manager disappears,
swallowed into a doorway.

The element of making is slow,
uncertain as a temple,
a falling forward, stitching back,
like a stone wall, like the panes in an
arched window, like a repetition
chosen beyond necessity.

Yet somehow we have seen all this before—
the girl in the fur hat
speaking syrup into a phone;
the falseness of her charm
is an ancient imposter, familiar and
therefore true.
A door is opened and falls
closed. Suddenly at every table
someone looks down and is reading—
books, newspapers, calendars,
reading tea leaves, reading bones.

A woman in a periwinkle jacket:
I am reading her shoulders
as the day introspects.
In dream the passive construction
and the past perfect tense prevail:
she was being pushed on a swing.
The woman with many television credits
gazes out the window, heavy with years,
forgetting herself, forgetting sorrow,
the false husband, the crippled child,
the old plots forgetting,

and it is suddenly lovely, as free as
something read or dreamed; the young
waitress with sun on her
face—her unblemished face—looks up,
from the middle of eternity, her desire
immaculate in the moment.

When a word is beautiful
above all others—your name—
when a woman appears as a bird of prey
and we turn away,
hoping not to be recognized—oh heart!—

when the light on the branches
flares in a window with no sky,
this is old story reading us, these are springs
from words laid down before
and ahead of us, and in the moment
we are making an answer.

The Gap, Australia

#4865 Dec 10, 2012
She slinks through the night

Looking for her next lover

Underlying desperation

Is what you'd uncover

She needs variety

A soul that she can claim

It's not about love

To her it's just a game

Scantily clad

She likes to show her wares

Full ivory breasts

With a round derriere

She's not picky about status

If there's a ring on your finger

She gets what she needs

She's never one to linger

She'll go with complete strangers

Willing to take the chance

Only one thing on her mind

To get into your pants

Come and take a number

She won't remember your name

It's just a means to an end

To her you're all the same

Promiscuous girl

She's trying to fill a void

From the broken heart he left her

The life that he destroyed

The Gap, Australia

#4866 Dec 10, 2012
Poetry points out the beauty
many tend to live too fast to detect
or maybe spread ideas within
so we may later bring it up to reflect.

Depths are deeper than normal
colors bolder than the naked eye.
Emotions readily open to see
tears freely flowing in its cry.

I see poetry in any common spot
waving blades of grass, the leaves.
Sparkling prisms of light bouncing
rain water, ice dripping from the eaves.

Poetry is in the encounters I have
whether with people or nature's spread.
In the aisle of a super market, the park
or just reflections held in my head.

I see poetry in the love for my wife
button popping praise for each child.
It is apparent in the neighborhood
with its all encompassing style.

Poetry leaps from the air
as well the sun, stars and the moon.
holiday gatherings and parties
or that new birth coming soon.

I see poetry in most all I see
in all the senses I freely use
and I never forget how a smile
can send running, the blues.

Never have to think about it
poetry stays within my touch
giving me thrills abundantly
cause I love to write so much.

Level 6

Since: Jan 12

Location hidden

#4867 Dec 10, 2012
woo hoo do it to me again!
Hoosier Hillbilly

Young America, IN

#4868 Dec 10, 2012
KNIGHT DEVINE I liked that one, I kinda feel the same way.

“Want A Friend, Be One..”

Level 9

Since: Mar 12

Friends Are Great...

#4869 Dec 10, 2012
I want to find someone who never gets tired of kissing me everday.Hugs me when Im jealous.
Understanding.Keeps silent when Im mad.Squeezes my hand when Im not in a good mood.Plans and Imagines the future with me in it and when I do find that someone I will never let go of him..:O)
Hoosier Hillbilly

Young America, IN

#4870 Dec 10, 2012
@least your not asking for much.
Hoosier Hillbilly

Young America, IN

#4871 Dec 10, 2012
PS: get a dog.

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