Satish Verma, 13 september 2012
Slicing the red velvet
not drawing blood with your nails
you walk
on the body of compromise
kissing the fleece of death.
Untitled,
larger than life
unpresent, missed moments would take
the revenge from no thing.
The violence will end in a lake of tears.
The golden stick.
It was the hard bone which engaged
the furious beast in drowning boat.
Learning from dimension of pain
you draw a circle around you.
Satish Verma
Ivy Marie, 13 september 2012
Last Night.
There is a healing energy
In the moon
I sit beneath it wrapped up
In blankets
Like a cocoon
And I think about
The encroaching gloom
And the possibility
Of man’s doom
These are the thoughts
That always
Seem to loom
Even if it comes too soon
Just meet me
At high noon
If you need to grow
There will always
Be plenty of room
Try to be glad
Even if it drives
You completely mad
It may not
Be so bad
Or it may just be
Another passing fad
The time has come
To stop always being
So incredibly sad
There are things in the past
That is never meant to last
When your whole world
Changes it can happen fast
It was the last night
And the next to last fight
When it all
Came into the light
And the secrets were
Finally in sight
I just never expected
Such a savage bite
That would be taken
On the last night
We keep trying
To do what is right
Even when nothing
Is as simple
As black or white
So I sit here staring at the moon
And I let my heart
Start to swoon
Because this is
What I learned
Last night
From the moon
9/12/2012 6:19 PM
Greg, 13 september 2012
Unabriged like cannon fodder stemming systemic from the pits of anguish. Grammar lost like the anton unkonow for the realms of space collapse in deformity with heads shaking and quaking in orgasmic revolt against blue sky systems. Breaking like the mystic river in orgasm. Orgasm Orgasm Orgasm Orgasm. Of sound that gropes me in the purple streams of psychedelia. Drugs are the breaking point of consciousness between incoherence the new system is being created and uninterated in despondent pleasure. White light Withitle white light you are the star for the orgasm. Miss where are you from I ask just to know. The places of incandescense where the doctors come to masturbate their good deeds. O appreciated like the withering family. Withering. Withering withering. Psycholocial ecstasy in the unhappiness that warmly raps the reader seeking and answer. Creation is formless in language and the lights pour in after the formation of darkeness in structure. Un refined brilliance in the post lecturinal knwolege of memory they will see they will see they will see they will see repeated typing in rhythm to the qualking loins of the universe coming to fuck me I can only love you as part of the all you are the light I chacse foreversadness sadess sadness sadness sadness comes whipping through as I think of you you you you you you I love you and you runawayyyyyyy who is calling me this collection of beam. Who kills the cat sleeping like the way of the light who are you who are you I’m playing a kyeyboard and only words come out dripping grey from the looping London air. I play nothing there is play
Milena Sušnik Falle, 12 september 2012
Dežuje...
kot bi nebo krvavelo
čez strehe.
Deževje
se sanja
v plašč
zelenih polj.
Stoletna lipa,
samotarka,
rahzlo v dežnih kapljah šumi,
skrivnostno ziblje misli
tistih,
ki več jih ni.
Deževje
se sanja
v plašč
zelenih dreves.
In ko pridejo dnevi
sonca,
hočem razumeti
le čar dreves
in
prijateljstvo vetra.
Milena Sušnik Falle - Slovenija
(pesniška zbirka Prozorni kristali jutra)
Milena Sušnik Falle, 12 september 2012
Jesenski čas
umirja
silne čute
poletja.
V spominih
te srečujem
v obarvani
tišini,
vedno na istem
mestu,
ker poti
ni več nobene.
Sanjarim
v oklepu
razpadlih besed
na preperelih
stopinjah
odhajanja,
dokler veter
z jesenskimi prsti
trosi po mrzlem
oktobru
porjavele liste...
Milena Sušnik Falle
(pesniška zbirka Prozorni kristali jutra)
Nightrayne, 12 september 2012
At the edge of life
when time has run out
a black abyss will wait.
Void of "life"
and void of me-
time will stop.
The “me” that hadn't been;
born to life, that lived-
will cease to be.
And all will be for me,
as it had been
before my life had come to be.
Satish Verma, 12 september 2012
Do you object to
sexual encounters in the clan
to save a semi-god
from extinction?
A political consideration?
For you becoming an otherself
for future generation?
I will not return to the cave
for a bell jar of bones in
the dominion of nature.
The creamy layer of bats
in dark, pursing the lips
to give a truth curdling lie.
I think, I should not think
of sun, water and clouds
and of mundane predictions.
Satish Verma
Gert Strydom, 12 september 2012
If I could just have my own way with you
I would stick onto you like strong clear glue,
be accompanying you throughout the day
like some magic coming out of the blue,
as from my feet you have swept me away,
you come to almost every word I say
in and out of my mind your image dips
and continually my mind does to you stray
and I would be under your soft fingertips
be covering you, even your very hips
while you were busy driving you own car,
I would be looking, watching your sweet lips,
in the mirror and the black road of tar
while together we were travelling quite far.
Gert Strydom, 12 september 2012
When you are with me,
time has no capacity to schedule us.
When kisses fall like rain,
there is no pain, no sorrow
and only joy
with no way to time it.
Even in this winter of my despair
where age is catching up with me,
where life bangs me down to the ground,
nothing of this world is around
when your eyes form new worlds
which I in their beauty see.
The blowing leaves, the icy breeze
all passes me, while the summer of your smile
falls with life on my heart.
Tribhawan Kaul, 11 september 2012
Love likes not
showing off relationship
smile on face or tear drops,
both make my heart rip.
Ever waiting eagerly
for her appearance
when confronted,
mind becomes an hindrance.
Comes like a fresh air ,
away she goes a hurricane
tolerate she will not,
me going great pains.
Yet, loves me so much
as a princess of yore
always cursing the boat,
can not navigate to shore.
Nothing is physical
in our love
wagging tongues
all hand in glove.
Beauty a trap and
love being a cage
Wonder ! gets entangled
even a sage.
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