POETS ALL OVER THE WORLD

Comment

Comment by s ace ixik on March 2, 2009 at 10:46pm

in Holland i took on a happening with wicca~opposite~genders ...

it was labelled "poetsen in t bos" :: "cleanse-the mesh-in-the~bushes"

that is why i am here with you ~ fellow (H)earthling
}}*{{

i sense that poetry is about uniQconsciousness ...
(very inspiring stuff to re-cognize in people streaming their way)

Comment by john winstanley on March 2, 2009 at 10:01pm

tranquil at midnight
and venus glitters high
through blue
dusty ink

night breeze
leaves rattle
over the cat's stare

soft scents
whisper through
the perfect night

the tiny gleam of night suns
stretch above

in that congested cerulean vista
constellations
contesting
for my eyes

Comment by john winstanley on March 2, 2009 at 9:59pm

midnight2.txt

Comment by john winstanley on March 2, 2009 at 9:56pm

Comment by john winstanley on March 2, 2009 at 9:56pm

Comment by Bradley (aka: Oak) on March 2, 2009 at 9:43pm

Come my children of the night.
Let me hear your cries
allow me to listen to your hollows; left deep in the darkness of the forest.

For only in the night can such things be known.
Only when the night air is still can anguish be felt deep within the wound...
To where such vile pain moves slowly and no pine tree can hurry it along,

Comment by CWR on March 2, 2009 at 9:39pm

"Time bares down"


Over the rolling hills and the fading green valleys, through the late summer fields patched with yellows and brown, time bears down. As the season turns older not only the colors of the meadows will adjust.


Along the Sycamore line roads with neatly packed homes, were happiness once did sound, time bears down. Hard working to earn keep, the reward looks meek, remembering those times so robust.

Promises were broken as the grips were loosened, amazement as time bears down. Confusion and lies bind the wrists and eyes, leaving you with miserable fleeting trust.


This heavy burden to will past as time has its way with us-As time bears down. Soon we will be free of ignorance that deceived, this new knowledge will to be abused in chance of that we lust…

Comment by CWR on March 2, 2009 at 9:39pm

A mile a minute
Hi, good morning and a howdy good day.
How was your slumber how was the rest.
Green red or blue ~I’m thinking of a number?
Wow look at the squirrel on the fence.
I pick red as my favorite color . What ? The number, why its 4 of course.
Hay dad, I mean mom, sorry, can I fly if my arms go like this?
I would like over easy they taste the best.
Boy I’m tired I could go back to bed.
Hay mom can my face stick like this?
I can cross my eyes when I look at my nose but not my lips!
Thanks ,no I’ll just take bread I’m training for my weight.
I’ve got pull-ups today, in gym, I want to do my greatest.
Wow! That’s good, I mixed my eggs with This.
It makes my mouth tingle and sweat.
Hay mom there’s this girl in my class, she keeps sending me notes.
Do I like her? Yes or No?
Will I be her friend?
Can we play together some day.

Yuck!
Wow ,Mom look at that, it feels like I’ve been up for hours but actually just four five SIX minutes!
Boy I wish I’d grow so I can ride that coaster.
How long before I’m tall like dad, just not as bold or older.
Hee ! hee ! I’m funny I know I just have it like that.
Hay look at my plate the food is shaped like a zord-bot, like the one I have up stairs.
O I have to go comb my teeth and brush my face.
I mean , o you know, boy I’m stupid. I just mixed up my words.
My teacher said I’m doing great, I like her she’s fun.
I know I have to get a move on.
Hay mom when is summer? I want to ride my bike.
Man I’m going to miss the bus.

I love you mom have a good day, I’ll see you when I come home, then we can talk..

Comment by CWR on March 2, 2009 at 9:38pm

"Time bares down"


Over the rolling hills and the fading green valleys, through the late summer fields patched with yellows and brown, time bears down. As the season turns older not only the colors of the meadows will adjust.


Along the Sycamore line roads with neatly packed homes, were happiness once did sound, time bears down. Hard working to earn keep, the reward looks meek, remembering those times so robust.

Promises were broken as the grips were loosened, amazement as time bears down. Confusion and lies bind the wrists and eyes, leaving you with miserable fleeting trust.


This heavy burden to will past as time has its way with us-As time bears down. Soon we will be free of ignorance that deceived, this new knowledge will to be abused in chance of that we lust…

Comment by CWR on March 2, 2009 at 9:38pm

"A Roll Call"


The perfect opportunity of a life time is here; if that’s what you need to get yourself in gear. Unless you’re blinded by the deceptions, which may be the case, you’d noticed this decade has affected the whole human race. Everything from Corruption to Greed has boiled to a head; Mother Nature keeps us aware she’s not dead. Millions of lives changed over a minuscule period of history; via that beast misery. Never before have we had such an amazing decade then this the last one gone by. A decade of change for the good, and a time of terror from the sky. A decade of which is becoming a blur slipping into obscurity doomed to die. Yes -yes the time is near, a time for you to record how we ended up here. In times, as this, when it’s hard to trust, everyone lying to cover their steps, the artist must sooth those injured souls and record their amazing stories to be told.

Where are the Singers of song, with lyrical stories that give us calm? Where are you the vocal prophet, putting our history in those pages, documenting our misgivings and passions that will teach the ages? Like those in times of despair that we have followed, song is comfort for the pill that’s hard to swallow.

Where are you writer of words, your finely honed weapon’s need to be heard? Where is your great novel of imagination, inspiring us with silver lined fabrications? Where is you’re word giving us the lessons we need -rapped in stories or told straight out, giving us the right to lay in place or to speak out. Your words give us consolations, taking from us our pain and fear -bring us closer to that we hold dear.

Where are the musical leaders of our time, mixing the rhythm with the rhyme? With music so up lifting it fits our soul, giving us reason to explore and grow. You take away the day’s trouble with the tapping of our feet, happiness entrusted in a package so neat. Where are the taker’s of our folklore, to you we give our secrets and our soul, our troubles nothing more.

Where are the artist’s that dictate the passing of time to their canvas, from nothing you giving us another advantage. Colors and stokes placed with dedication, giving our life eternal explanation. With pigment and thought you give a window to our actions, telling all our stories from your observations.

In times as this one thing is certain, tomorrow will bring surprises and frustrations, without creative mind’s to sort it all out our history will be up to a distant generation. Why give those that yet have arrived this daunting task, a mission of clouded terms that they may convolute in inaccurate facts. Stand up those that want the story to be in line, use your wonderful minds in telling Our history of desperate times.



As I sit sleepless, well past a normal hour on this cool mid week’s night, I realize my mission like a bright star out side, my life will not be showered in gold, however we have a story that needs to be told. We must do our duty and become Historians of our season, to deny it just fails to reason

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