Reblogs – Laura Denise & Akhila Siva

From my perspective, these two pieces describe two very different relationships – one fulfilling and the other empty – types that all individuals have probably experienced. One, the other, or both. So, passion-less or passion-filled, what’s your current relationship?

Wildfire Heart by Laura Denise

I’ve loved before.
That’s what lovers do.
Never the problem,
just the flue.

My heat rising
and released,
but others
closed the vent.
I self-suffocated
each ember
of chance.

Again.
And again.

But my match,
finally met.
Impervious
to my intensity,
my molten form
held so tenderly.

I still love them all
for that’s what lovers do,
but so grateful each
closed that flue.

My fire is now
oxygenated,
a type of glow
that originated
when I was finally able
to feel being held,
and the way he made me
first love
myself.

We fell,
we rose,
along the way,
grew together,
blue and white
lovemaking
constellation
flame.

I don’t miss you, but I miss your vibes

I don’t miss you,
but I miss your vibes
I miss the connection
I thought I can vibe on my own
I thought I can vibe to the music of nature 
no matter my mood
But how silly I’m,
I can vibe to nothing 
when I miss your vibes

If I say I miss you,
I miss you that badly
as I love you that madly
Call me insane that I can 
never get you out of my head
no matter how you treat me
Each and every nooks and corners of my cells 
are craving for your vibes
But never you knew 
how privileged you are in my heart
Never you knew 
how important you are to me

Come back and hug me as usual
Hug me and squeeze me as always.
I don’t say that I miss you
But deep in my heart I miss a piece of my smile.
I miss your vibes
I miss the connection
Come back and hug me as usual

Also published on Medium

Reblogs – Aishwarya & Christine Bialczak

The dichtomy of living – trying to hide in the thick of the underbelly but also rising above. These two poems illustrate well what being on that spectrum of life means.

Figment by Christine Bialczak

Hidden
put away forever
shame entangles
tears flow morosely
memories
becoming reality
endlessly
utterly
a mere figment
concocted by fear.

Breakthrough by Aishwarya

From darkness,
Light shines,
From silence,
Sound reverberates,
From emptiness,
Companions valued,
From ignorance,
Knowledge surfaces,
From frustration,
Action grows,
From necessity,
Inventions glorify,
From impatience,
Patience surges,
From hopelessness,
Hope evolves,
From nothing,
Everything develops.

Reblogs – Romantic Dominant & Rahul Gaur

Wholly present or becoming barely there – living is a bouncing between the two, or?

Yes by Romantic Dominant

Suddenly
she is aware
of how much
she adores
the feel
the sensation
the taste of
‘Yes’
in her mouth,
ready for him
to hear.

Becoming a Mirage by Rahul Gaur

My body carries your words still⁣⁣⁣
under the burial of daily living⁣⁣⁣
Sensory overload to forget that⁣⁣⁣
you still hold the power to⁣⁣⁣
cause ripples in my still water mind⁣⁣⁣
⁣⁣⁣
Do you remember that day ⁣⁣⁣
when the sun failed to settle down⁣⁣⁣
so as to not take away your light⁣⁣⁣
and then we slipped into a shared dream⁣⁣⁣
that unravelled into a nightmare of⁣⁣⁣
all the angst we buried underneath our love⁣⁣⁣
⁣⁣⁣
My mind carries the cause of your tears⁣⁣⁣
The decade of your doom ⁣⁣⁣
that you brushed aside to forget⁣⁣⁣
that the dust settles down from the air⁣⁣⁣
until the gust of wind arrives⁣⁣⁣
to tip you off balance from the summit of ⁣⁣⁣
your fickle foundation of a dune⁣⁣⁣
⁣⁣⁣
And I see you now⁣⁣⁣
walking away into a mirage⁣⁣⁣
but you never go out of sight⁣⁣⁣
so you never go out of mind⁣⁣⁣
As I sit here collecting sand ⁣⁣⁣
and filling up a reflection of your wreckage⁣⁣⁣
so I can be tipped off balance as well⁣⁣⁣
so I can walk into a mirage as well⁣⁣⁣
with you but without you.

Reblogs – Murray Robertson & Frank Solanki

I’ve thoroughly enjoyed pulling from my collection of read poetry that is recent and from further back to share with you. It’s remarkable to me how they somehow line up to share similar concepts or emotions, or maybe it’s me reading that into them? What do you think?

Sheltered by Murray Robertson

shaded, underneath
   taller plants
sheltered from
      such storms

as may arise,
   we should
   have such 
      fortune:

   friends in
high places,
as we never
      imagined.

we can always
   consider
how beautiful:
      humility

   we can also
      consider
  just what
   we should be

I Am Not A Bad Person by Frank Solanki

I am not a bad person
Just covered in pile of dirt
Layers and layers and layers
Layers of pain and hurt
Look at me closely though
Through the dark of skin
A treasure chest of love
You shall find within

Reblogs – Shweta Suresh & Ivor Steven

It was so easy to get swept up in the emotions of each of these pieces describing life, living and loss. The accompanying music video to Ivor’s piece is such a complement to both poems. May you experience a rich fullness reading and listening to the music as I did.

Grief by Shweta Suresh

Grief is a powerful feeling  
They say it has seven stages  
I don’t know about that  
But I strongly believe  
That grief is like the waves,  
In a turbulent sea.  
It comes and goes  
But it sustains, In a never-ending manner.  
It grips your heart,  
Forces you to have Ups and downs  
Over and over again.  
It creates new wounds  
But often, grief rips open  
Old healed wounds too.  
No matter how hard you try,  
You can’t run away,  
From its clutches  
Grief will always find you  
Though it might take a while,  
It will eventually hit you With an impact worse  
Than a ground-shattering earthquake, or,  
Even an ear-splitting thunderstorm.  
Grief is like a sharp knife,  
That’s permanently  
lodged In your heart,  
That twists painfully, each time  
A familiar memory washes over you.  
It comes and goes,  
With varying intensities  
Just like the waves in the sea.  
No matter how hard you run,  
Grief is hard to shake off 

Existence and Renewal by Ivor Steven

Keep your cup full
Turn the power on
Follow the moonlight
Fall across the lawn
Heed her call at dawn
“Life is a marathon”

The renewal of nature
Leaves footprints upon desert sands
And with His hand in Her hand
Existence grows from our lands

Reblogs – Matt Taggart and Shalini

I’m entranced by the keen observations of these two poets. I hope you enjoy them as well! 🙂

Poem 283 – Matt Taggart

Observing society is like reading Edgar Allen Poe mixed with Mother Nature

While Emily Dickinson watches us all

Affirmations #6 – Shalini

Look within,
All answers reside.

Look outside,
Questions beguile.

Seek nothing,
And all surround.

Seek much,
And nothing is found.

Love madly,
And feel empty inside.

Love unconditionally,
And fill every crevice,
No matter how wide.

It is absolutely true, when you surrender in entirety, an unregistered view charters out of nowhere and wholesomeness follows.

The Projector – Part 4 & 5 on Short Story Saturday!

Short Story Saturday – The Projector – Part 4

Short Story Saturday – The Projector – Part 5

I hope you enjoy the last two readings of my spoken story! THANK YOU, Matt!!

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4 The Brighton Plaza Cinema 5/2/21 – Jack

Jack arriving late, attempted to quietly slip into the row, mangling a few toes on the way to his seat. He apologized profusely to the affected people. They seemed to dismiss it as unavoidable, easing his concern of having hurt his fellow patrons. Seeing how the previews were still running, he was glad not to have missed anything yet, nor messed up anyone else’s viewing pleasure. Jack was kind like that. He reflected for a minute that, having been raised by his MawMaw, he knew she would be proud of his interactions with others. 

Considering where he grew up, how he turned out was a miracle. His life wasn’t easy, not only because of living in Detroit, MI, a city with the highest crime rates, it was just he and his grandmother fighting the good fight, no other extended family. She was the only one he still had after his mom left and his dad died in a robbery gone wrong. Fortunately, his MawMaw raised him to be better than where and who he came from. Her goal was to see that he made something of himself, and he indeed showed that he was heading in that direction. He could be pleased about it as well as his grandmother.

Jack was looking forward to watching Emergent; sci-fi thrillers were his favorite genre. It was nice to get out of his head and imagine a different reality, daily life being so taxing for him at times, imagining an unreal future being a welcomed change of pace. No bullets to dodge in his neighborhood, only watching phasers on the screen and the bad guys getting shot, not him. Who wouldn’t relish that kind of visual entertainment and not have to face the fear of merely trying to get home safely? Jack got comfortable and waited for the show to begin.

The movie started with the Tangent II crew shooting through space on a mission to a newly discovered planet. There were five members on board, three of them with various science research specialties, and the other two handled engineering and staffing the flight deck. All assigned to this mission, except for the captain, were recent graduates from the space academy, and this was their virgin flight. The crew was under the impression it would be uneventful as they didn’t anticipate any new life forms, just vegetation. It did require studying, though, being a new planet.

After landing on Zenlev’s surface, Emergent quickly ramps up with action sequences. The vegetation turned out to be somewhat aggressive and lethal. It was a rather predictable plot, Jack nevertheless enjoying it. The crew rapidly launched into survival mode rather than pursuing the necessary research they were tasked with. The scenes which followed had all crew members getting slaughtered in dramatic ways except for one space cadet, who correctly identified how to stop the vegetation in its tracks. She managed to get back onto her ship and headed towards home, a lost but triumphant gaze on her face.

As the credits rolled, Jack took a deep breath, satisfied with the ending. Putting his jacket back on, he gathered up his candy and drink, slowly getting up to walk up the aisle. It was then Jack realized that the theater was empty. Wow, he thought to himself, he was totally engrossed in that movie!

Part 5 – The Brighton Plaza Cinema 5/2/21 – Edward

It had been a long day for Edward. A long month. Looking over the number of movies he’d projected, it seemed on the high end of regular showings; the average was about seventy-five per day. Today, ninety-eight films ended up being projected, and such a variety too—everything from slasher movies to comedies. Edward felt put through the wringer, so to speak, throughout the day. But that was his job. It came with the territory. He looked forward to turning it all off when he got home.

The theater was closed on Mondays, so he looked ahead with relief to a day off, and Tuesdays tended to be slower than the weekends. He was glad—a bit of a break.

With the cinema’s popularity increasing since it opened last month, Edward wondered if they would add another screen. Perhaps, but not likely. It seemed reasonable to him as the attendee numbers continued to climb, sometimes even turning people away, although not that often yet. But they were always at total capacity. If not another screen and projector, he just wished they would hire someone to be a backup to run the equipment. He lamented to himself being the only person doing the work was exhausting.

Wrapping up for the day, he went over the log of the movies shown, making sure he’d listed them all. Someone in management expected them as they were tracking the shows’ statistics—genres and viewers. Edward surmised they were following what the trends were. Eventually, probably within the year of opening, the corporation told him they would make it public how The Brighton Plaza Cinema was doing. It would help boost the sales of the franchises coming into play in the future. This recordkeeping would show this new fangled way of projecting movies was good business. Good for the public, excellent for the company, but damn, it was hard on the projector. Sometimes, it just got to be too much. Edward found ways to numb himself when he got home, drugs or alcohol, but mostly, he stayed holed up in his apartment, away from the world and any more stimuli.

No one knew that the eye scan each moviegoer used to check in was pasting clear, thin strips of plastic onto their eyeballs. The film was a neural link connected to Edward, “the projector” of their movie, who was symbiotically connected to their film choice. He “streamed” the movie they selected directly into their view after having it downloaded to his brain. It was genius as it didn’t require huge movie theater complexes to stream a variety of movies. One and done, everybody got what they wanted. The best part, the plastic strips dissolved after the movie.

Being the first of its kind theater, no one knew that this projector, Edward, would eventually feel his mental health decline severely, and fairly quickly. He would, in a sense, implode from the emotional burnout of having to handle simultaneous realities. The patrons had fun, had a good cry, swooned, were entertained and thrilled, but not so for the projector. His senses were bombarded throughout his 8-hour shift, putting his nervous system into overdrive and devastating his sense of reality. Edward was being used as their guinea pig.

Ain’t capitalism grand?

THE END

Reblog – Bright and Beautiful by Murray Robertson

Enjoy, love and thrive! 🙂

Murray Robertson (photography & poems)

      oh she is
   bright and
   beautiful.
      you should
see her smile

   what is 
      a man
supposed 
   to do?

   sunshine
   over her
shoulder,
   she glows
in backlit
      glory

   we have
   wandered
there before.
   every time
the garden's
      a changed
   thing.

red as any
   lipstick, 
      she glows
in backlit
   glory. 

   what is
      a man
supposed
   to do?

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Reblog – Love Felt by Penny Wilson

This love felt is magical.

Penny Wilson Writes

to know 
your heart skips a beat

to be 
the whisper 
on 
the tip of your tongue

I see the glimmer 
in your eyes 
and hear 
the catch 
in your breath

souls 
touching

this

this is
more than physical

this 
is love
felt

Copyright (C) 2020 Penny Wilson

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