A mixture of art in all its forms and random grabs from life and whatever else bubbles up….

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Memories of the waves….

Sometimes I miss the sun rising and setting over the carribean sea

Soft warm white sand between my toes

Azure blue waters , clear warm , colors vibrating ,soft ripples of waves

The warm sun , the light cool breeze over the island

the steeldrum band playing, the coconuts fresh off the tree

Sometimes I miss the full moon over the atlantic ocean

house high waves rolling and crashing on the beach and the cliffs

water spraying spraying like a fountain

huge vibrations thundering through the rock beneath

the smell so fresh and full of freedom

roxana
calin
gabryellehelen
lilli
vania
schtiel
vizualw
theodora0303

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GODS……. :-)

“In ancient times cats were worshipped as Gods, they have not forgotten this.”

roxana
rokssana
theodora0303
vizualw
schtiel
silence
gabryellehelen
vania
lilli

Contemplate for action….

Everything has been said before, but since nobody listens we have to keep going back and beginning all over again.

The two words ‘information’ and ‘communication’ are often used interchangeably, but they signify quite different things. Information is giving out; communication is getting through.

“They see in the political apathy of the proletariat only the apathy, not the protest against a system that has nothing to offer them.”
― Red Army Faction

Either you’re part of the problem or your part of the solution

roxana
vizualw
theodora0303
ruxandra
Arylechina
peter
silence
vania
lilli
gabryellehelen
cristi
calin

DECAY……

Ancient seed, of a soul colored claret, when he came to me
Alas came the day, my mortality, no longer reign free
I partake of sweet revelries, strawberry of the unknown
Tantalizing aromas, as I compliment your neck bone
Your breath pulsates heavily, as we succumb to wanton flesh
Taste of human essence, a copious harvest, savors fresh
You slide into Utopia’s Shangrila, feeding pink flesh
You spin a web of geometric pearls in and out of me
So fine the pronounced arteries of young men, not fully grown
Slumber deep my love for I’ve ingested you, at your request

SOURCE

roxana
blogulise
calin
vania
lilli
peter
theodora0303
schtiel

In the darkness….

Many in the Darkness November 1941

We sat in the park, but there was a war between us,
A dead moon over us and all around us
The shy and secret whisperings as of the tiny
Woods animals which in the high forest gather
Wind-fallen goods before the frost comes.

We praised as lucky all whose sure existence
(As of the careless moon, the dutiless squirrels)
Is not responsible for human history—
Feeling how our happiness, how hope must mount
Machine guns which other men yet have the firing of,
How liberty is seen in the form of a fighter plane
Millions look up asking, Is it ours?

Our despair was temporary but not less painful.
Over us the moon was quiet about its business,
Pouring its constant light upon the naked beaches.
The squirrels built up their small defenses
Obliged to the fulfillment of a natural process.
Their leaf-lined cell, the brilliance of the moon,
The winter cannot touch and no touch tarnish.

Thomas McGrath

source

roxana
calin
gabryellehelen
lilli
vania
napobloghiap
schtiel
theodora0303
vizualw

My Angel….

She’s My Angel
She’s that smile that I need when I’ve had a crummy day.
She’s that rainbow of color when my world has turned gray.
She’s that shoulder I need when I’m up against the ropes.
She’s the one that I turn to when I need that ray of hope.

She’s the candle’s flicker in a room otherwise dark.
She’s lit my soul on fire for her from the very start.
She’s the one I feel at peace with when I’m laying in her arms.
She’s the one who captivates me with all her witty charm.

She’s everything I want and everything I need
She’s every single love song and in every book I read.
Every minute we share together is a minute I’ll always hold tight.
She’s my angel in the morning, afternoon, and night.

She’s not perfect, but to me she’s pretty close.
She’s quick to give an attitude adjustment right when I need it the most.
She’s that star in the sky that is shinning brighter than the rest.
She’s that one ounce of encouragement I need to do my very best.

She’s the one who knows me better than anyone else ever could.
She’s the one who loves me even more than she probably should.
She’s got a way of touching my heart like nobody else knows.
She’s the woman I love from the top of her head to the tips of her toes.

She’s everything I want and everything I need
She’s every single love song and in every book I read.
Every minute we share together is a minute I’ll always hold tight.
She’s my angel in the morning, afternoon, and night.

She’s a red sports car, in the summer, running ninety.
She’s forever the one I always want beside me.
She’s all the words I do not say because the words do not come fast enough.
She’s soft, sweet, kind, and sincere, but at times can be very tough.

She’s the most expensive, most precious, priceless work of art.
She’s the one, I swear, I’ll never let go of until death do us part.
She’s absolutely, positively, no doubt about it, my angel from above.
She’s the reason I write this poem to try and express my love.

She’s everything I want and everything I need
She’s every single love song and in every book I read.
Every minute we share together is a minute I’ll always hold tight.
She’s my angel in the morning, afternoon, and night.

by K Gossett

rokssana
roxana
gabryellehelen
calin
vania
peter
theodora0303.
lilli

Hands….to feel…..

Hands

I haven’t forgotten
That I am just one person,
That I am but one voice
Attempting to stand out
From the crowd.

I remember
That I have fallen
Amidst the laughter
That surrounds me, and that sometimes
It gets too loud.

I know
That I can’t sit here
And expect my silence
To evoke change
Without reason.

I can see
That I don’t know everything,
That I can’t expect
My hand to be held
Always.

I can feel
That time is slipping
By me, that it
Will be gone if I just
Stand still.

I have heard
That there are a million
Other voices that sound
Like mine, that want also
To be heard.

I’ve been told
That it’s not enough to
Wish for dreams, that I
Have to work them
Into reality.

I know that I don’t know
All that I think I know.
I know I won’t see all of
The places I wish to go.
I know I’m not ready
For all that the world demands,
You don’t have to always hold me,
Just let me see your hands.

I know
That there’s a lot
That I won’t understand,
That you don’t have all
Of the answers.

I haven’t forgotten
That I have to grow up
And someday live without
Your voice, your opinion–
Making my own decisions.

I know that I don’t know
All that I think I know.
I know that I may not see all
Of the places I want to someday go.
I know I’m not ready for everything
That I won’t always understand
You don’t have to always hold me
But sometimes. . .
Just let me touch your
Hand.

Jherine N. Saine

roxana
calin
lilli
vania
silence
peter
schtiel
ruxandra
theodora0303
vizualw

The light inside……

Beautiful, beautiful words but together in life,
But there is no life,
Just the shadows, drifting aimlessly in the minds,
Apart from who we can be,
The silvery moon can create light,
So why are we dark, gloomy souls,
The endless horror in which we live,
Can be changed,
But to grasp reality too hard can make its difference,
The translucent love is gratefully still there,
But is hard to see for our eyes are blocked,
Continually forgetting what this once stunning world had,
The ominous ghost the haunts us as we stumble,
But there are still the brilliant stars in the black night,
And the sun behind the storm,
For we must cast those mysterious spirits away,
And find the light inside.

SOURCE

roxana
basil
gabryellehelen
lilli
vania
peter
ruxandra
schtiel
theodora0303
vizualw