• BLOG

Month: February 2019

The concrete wall

Against the sky, stark and tall, Stands the barrier, the concrete wall. Its surface cold, its edges sharp, Guarding secrets within its grasp.

Built with purpose, to divide and contain, Yet beneath its surface, hides a deeper terrain. For within its confines, stories untold, Whispers of longing, of hearts grown cold.

It separates worlds, keeps them apart, But also serves as a canvas, a work of art. For upon its face, graffiti blooms, A rebellion against its somber gloom.

Yet behind its facade, emotions reside, Echoes of laughter, tears that hide. It bears witness to lovers’ vows, And echoes of voices in the night’s hush.

Though sturdy and strong, it cannot confine, The human spirit, with its will to shine. For even in the shadow of the concrete wall, Hope finds a way to stand tall.

So let us not be defined by its might, But rather by the courage to fight. For beyond the barrier, lies a world to explore, Where love and freedom forever endure.

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The Wild Horse

I ride the wild horse
The windy steed with the bloody hooves
I have no reins, no control, no will of my own
My arms tight around the surging neck
Fingers clutching the flying mane
Heels dug into the galloping muscles of the flanks
Down rocky slopes, steep terrain
He carries me
Deep inside the darkest passages
Of my self—

The dreaming unbidden places
Where the timeless wisdom of the midnight moon
Touches the fire of the stars and
Gives breath
To the wakening soul.

by Laurence Overmire

Model: Magdalena

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The jacuzzi

I am alone my love
roses all around
Candles are burning
soft music is playing
Wine is chilled
The jacuzzi is full
Wine taste so sweet
My robe falls slowly
to the floor
I step into the jacuzzi
the water
Is so very warm I lay
And pretend you are here
with me
Your hands upond my legs
Your lips have embraced
Can you feel my passion
an desire
My love wish you were

by Jackie Kirby


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“The coffin, or sometimes a stretcher, is carried by an all-male troupe to the temple and the body removed. The deceased is then covered in pure-white cloths leaving only the head uncovered. The family take the body to the temple for its final visit and then respectfully undress it. After throwing the clothes into the river the body is bound with more white cloths, again leaving the head exposed.

The men take-up the stretcher and walk three times, in a clockwise direction, around the wooden funeral pyre before placing the body on top. The family’s oldest son then walks around the pyre before lighting the kindling near the head of the deceased. This is significant as Hindu’s believe the person’s spirit is freed through the mouth.

The moment the pyre ignites into flames the body is covered with a mass of wet straw which produces a cloak of white smoke. The smoke shields the body from view as the cremation process takes place. The family then wait a number of hours until the body has been completely cremated. Finally, the remains are scattered into the river.” [LINK]

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Dish Of The Day

For today’s special
we’d like to recommend a very spicy
‘killer’ stew
The innkeeper
seemed in no mood to joke
You won’t need a starter, he added
as the stew is very substantial
a local wine
the sort used for sangria
We’ll mash up an eyeball
freshly plucked
That of Cain
the innkeeper said to be precise
believing he’d excelled himself
on the subject of black humour
Oh you know, I said,
I’m just a little peckish
why don’t you hand me back the menu
if you please

© Abdellatif Laâbi


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Geometry to Me

You, Man … Are The Angles
To My Curves
Hard and Sharp Corners
To My Circular-Swerves

You Are Exact
To My Abstract
You Are Algebra
To My Pre-School Math

You Are Calculus
To My Abacus
You Are The Chemical
To My Stimulus

You Are The Extra
To My Average
You Are The Multiply
To My Nothing Added

You Are Autonomy
To My Anatomy
You Are The Fractal
In My Infinity

You Are Geometry To Me:

You Are Steep Mountains
To My Mounds and Valley
You Are Raindrops In The Forest
To My Snow-Ballet

Your Are Hot Desert Sands
To My Cold Ocean Waves
You Are The Mirage man
To My Love-Slave

You Are Dimension-Diamonds
To My Parallel-Pearls
You Are The Universe
To My World

You Are The Prism
To My Beam Of Light
and You Are The Days
Resting Upon My Nights …

And You Are Geometry To Me …

by MoonBee Canady


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Apollo the god of sun and light
The creator of day and night
Second in command to his father
Obeyed and respected by his followers
The God that heals and destroy
You’ve seen his works at the kingdom of troy
The messenger of the God Zeus
His home is called Olympus
The God of music and arts
Who roams the heavens and its every parts
He could bring salvation or destruction
Depending on human condition
Immortality is his gift
His judgement is final and swift
He holds the keys to hell
A place where angels never dwell
He holds the only key to the door
That would bring eternal happiness to the poor
Apollo a God and a king
In his honor the angels sing
Though his people had forgotten his name
His presence will forever remain



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