Laugh a little harder
Cry a little deeper
Smile a little wider
Hug a little tighter
Be more
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The ascendancy
Of my pallet rests
Against her sweetest
Center - her calm yet
Mellifluous Reach into
That dark and dusky
Staid of night - before
the morn’ and throne
Of her full and ripe flavor,
She whispers the founding
Of this favor devoured
Before me - slit to the bone
Of my intentions - where
Every color of her misty,
Blended flow is bested
By the stars in Couldspeak
telling me of flowered light
As if time were a blanket
Spread lost over her landscapes
Before me, all of Earth lain bare
In shallows of dawns dilemma,
Lofty planes of initiation, and favor
The incline of time’s Naive
Above and below her
Second guesses as they
Dwell among dismay and
doubt, the anxieties
Of kindness sitting inside
the stupor of time, and
her eyes of dawn where
the Day is just beginning . . .
____________________________________
© Thespian Drummer / the eyes of dawn
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String Theory
I can see through your eyes
And what haunts them from behind
Afflicted by your irrational fears
And the concept of fleeting time
How many pages are left in your story,
And if you ever amounted to anything,
Questioning the fundamentals of reality
And if everything reroutes back to nothing
But what you can’t seem to grasp
Is the true insignificance of it all
Life is woven into the most complex pattern
Made by a string from the simplest ball of yarn
Humanity, and all of our little worries
Are just a thread fraying off the blanket
Try your best to ignore the monsters in the fold
And find the reasons why to be thankful for it
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steeled.txt
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Winter-Long
Winter's cold is curled
like a lick beneath
underneath the beating heart.
Like a hand of a stranger on my shoulder.
Your name is the white breath
I realease
from trembling lips. It escapes
from me and into the dense air
that carries cold with a purpose.
Loss is a constant companion,
it doesn't fade with time.
I watch it shiver outside
under the burden
of heavy snow.
What does it know of warmth?
I let it slip inside,
and sit by the fire.
but little by little it
takes over. It creeps below,
leaves my body damp and aching,
swamped by run-away thoughts
of you. And cold settles
like a tickle in the lungs.
© SoulReserve 2023
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Perhaps it's good to have a beautiful mind, but an even greater gift is to discover a beautiful heart. And perhaps it's a downright tragedy to come to the realization that a person may have neither.
- DG
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I hope I never hear a bird’s song and get annoyed by it,
No matter how early the morning, nor the lack of coffee I’ve had.
May I never forget how beautiful this world can be,
And my problems never weigh me down too far from happiness
That can be found in a lovely bird’s song.
S.a
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A man walks into a bar
And asks the bartender for a drink
Put it in a glass or a human body either way they are one and the same
The man stands before the glass stands on the counter
His hands holds the glass holds his drink
Then the exchange
Mouth open the glass lets go of all that it is
Mouth open the man seeks to forget all that he is
Lets go of the glass
The glass tumbles
He stumbles
The glass falls
The man is down
Glass splinters glitter on the ground
Stars hidden by the man on the moon
Who has fallen off his throne
Not quite responds the bartender
As he sweeps what remains of the glass into a dust pan
And he commands the man to stand back up
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God’s the seamstress that trailor-fitted my pain
And because of you
That dark cloud no longer follows me with rain
I thank you
For awakening me to the sun’s embrace once again
————
Recovery
- soha.
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Into the Dark and Away
When you've learnt by heart the patterns on the carpet
The grain of the floorboards pressed flush against your cheek
When you've grown sick of counting the dust motes
Staring dazedly as they dance in the draft
And collect under the dresser
As so many discarded dreams
When you’ve bored yourself numb and blind
Stand up or perhaps crawl downstairs
Sneak through the window, into the unlit dawn
Light as a sigh, since no one is here to stop you
Heavy as a sob, for no one is here to stop you.
Through the garden, barefoot across the flower beds
Bending the pliant necks of your mother's tulips
Her ancient tabby cat, keeping watch from the parapet
Wailing and whining, rasping its bitter refrain
Won’t you wait, won’t you listen,
Won’t you please try and understand
You headstrong girl,
You silly girl,
You golden child
But it’s too late for pleading, you’ve been halfway gone a long time
So go for good,
Go over the fence and into the fields
Over the fence and away
Go and sleep under the willow tree
Where its long fingers will trace its sorrow upon you
There you might find rest and forget
Forget the lonely sound of the leaking faucet
Forget the unlived life
And even your own name
When the alarm clock rings with echoes of school bells
Tolling mercilessly, striking the hour
When the chirping of birds turns to nasty singsong
Twittering their teetering chant
When you haven’t closed your eyes in weeks
And yet morning still comes
And yet duty calls, clamoring for another ounce of courage
Another shred of surrender, another pound of your bloodless flesh
Open the backdoor, let the radio fry itself hoarse
Let the phone hang and cry its phony tune
Let the gate slam behind you, swaying on screeching hinges
The old house, full of ghosts, nagging and begging
Look back, turn back, come back
You stupid girl,
You lovely girl,
You small, small thing
But there is nothing anymore you wouldn't dare
Nothing now they can forbid
You’ve been halfway gone a long time
So go for good
Go, into the dark and towards the forest
Into the dark and away
Go and sleep under the walnut tree
Where breath is rare but the slumber is deep
There you might find rest and forget
Forget the taste of bile of every family meal
Forget the endless list of tasks
And even the grudges you keep
When you are all out of time, of hope, of composure
When you've crossed all the days, all the Ts
Dotted the Is and scratched them out in every Christmas picture
Spent the last of your restraint
And turned all the dials on the stove
Walk to the end of the driveway, to the end of the road
The tar still sticky with the day’s heat
The faces of the whole neighborhood,
Peering through curtains and keyholes
And that voice, sickly sweet, tugging at your sleeve
Pinching your upper arm
Telling you not to make a scene in public
The crunching gravel, coaxing and cajoling
Stay here, within reach
Stay near, within sight
Sit, stand, beg, play dead
Stay, stay, stay
You stubborn girl,
You dear girl
You odd duckling
For once, let it fall onto deaf ears
Go, through the thistle, through the thorns
Following the cool rustle of rushing water
You’ve been halfway gone a long time
So go for good
Go, beyond the bend and along the river
Beyond the bend and away
Go and sleep under the manchineel tree
Where every touch is seared and etched into your skin
There too you must sit still as the world eats at you
Each brush like the lash of a whip
But, at least, here you can ponder in peace
As patient as a boiling frog
Your head busy and buzzing
With thoughts sharper than a hornet's sting
You may think and think and forget
Forget the whistled scream of the hissing kettle
Forget the many reasons for your rage
And even the way home.
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Look at yourself
Alone in your room
Worrying if you did heartbreak the right way
If you’ve suffered enough
When you should really be focused on
How it feels
To be in your skin
How they make you feel
When they brew a fresh cup of coffee
At 2 in the afternoon
How the sun feels
Peeking through the window shades
Like wind chimes made of light
How the cows eat grass
Without worrying about the process
How the feral cats live selfishly
Amongst the trash and
Take a breath
And listen to yourself
For what seems like the first time
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Maybe I'm back for a good time
Maybe I'm back for a long time
Maybe I'm back for a deep breath
Maybe I'm back for a good death
Maybe I'm just back
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SWEET TYRANT IS ONLINE
https://sweettyrant.online
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Our Drums
The knives are hot,
and the breaths are sharp
We’re smoking out the bees,
between the stream of our hearts
We followed it’s calming rush,
where honey flowed like fire and art
Slowly pouring into a thudding jar;
we stuck our hands deep in that pot —
So sticky and sweet, we will never pull apart
We can dance away the night
In its bubbled, amber glow
To the rhythm of our pottery toms
Beating at the encore to our show
Because to kick our love —
I’d rather die than to ride that crash
So let our drums roll the papers
and I’ll pack away the hash
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anomalous.txt
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Perfume
You become a sound
that slowly leaches from my body
into air
with the softness of breath,
a quiet keening,
an undertone of heartache
I've always felt.
You release from wrinkles,
from birthmarks I have known and carried.
From freckles that darken in the sun.
You unsettle from the folds of my clothes
my hair my eyes
like a memory—washed dried and fading
fluttering outside on clothes lines.
You aren't gone
although you are dissipating leaving
in more ways than one.
The perfume of you
is still damp on poems
I write with tears.
© SoulReserve 2023
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