Mental Health, Relationship

Ossuary Sea

Jellyfish spit love
Tinkering with nature
The pleasure geyser from under the frown
Settle for up or down

A friend that failed you;
Once a three headed goddess
merry-go-round
Now she’s restless as a Wolfgang huntress
Chasing a sorrow bit tale
A mad clap ovation to tear down the love summit

Perplexed, when we come back for more harm
When times are good, demanded the sorrow to stay away
Pushy like the river into the sea
Water element, better then the air to breathe

The horizontal bones
sinking bells below,
Out of decadence we all go under, in watery graves tonight
In hope, to awaken in aria’s soul-mist
A great acquiesce, to exist
A perpendicular recovery
In a circulation towards love again

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Relationship

The Surreal Token

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In fields danced
The howling tornadoes
Where did we go?
A voice wearied from
The dark censored hosts

Feeling old, pills were taken
And laughter misplaced,
Into the Samaras box,
Of the museum floor

As moles dream,
Be the world
Be the king
Ruling time’s
Borrowed tempo

Disordered grandeur
A shrouded relief
From the subjective
Neglected overcrusted
Microwaves,
And ignored lint
Covered floors,
To slip on
For divorce is conjured,
Only in the tempest’s mind

What lies ahead?
A tunnel out,
To our 21st century
Artifacts
A layered forest
Of fordite trees
Where you cut off
A piece to keep,
To heal as your
Modern token

Walkin towards
A rosette memory,
Beamin an old song,
From afar,
That you wrote
Underneath a point
Above the dipper
Your veins were a freezin…
“With all the colors in the room,
Why did your’s have to be blue?”

For: Ben
Words: Nara
Art: Lucas Samaras

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Mental Health

Elasticity

The self sabotage roping you in.
How to trust in that shaky hydra of skin?
As you search through it all,
Everything you thought was love;
Horded into corners.
Pushed aside, rummage through,
When your mind can bare to touch it.
Separate the conversations,
Into more tolerable piles.

Stacked up to the ceiling;
All those long ago friends.
You behooved their art,
Spinning wonder towards
The ethereal 9 to 10.
Treasures found in medicine cabinets, borrowed hasselblad lap shots
On bedspreads, and shower curtains,
Became sudden backdrops.

His black hair tugs
At your memory strings.
Backwards in the darkroom
For the make-out session.
Only wanted you as a moving stranger.
We exposed and dramatized our Destructions.
Too much vodka weeping
And highway speeding.
But he followed you home;
To thread you into a knot
And began to call you his friend.

How many more after him?
Lowell’s alarm,”they’ll never come back.”
His firewords,
Burned it all down,
Heaps of ashes.
It was idealistic,
The origin of expectations
For them.
At last you can’t pretend.

In the morning,
You still have your asana
And a mantra to reshape and liberate; everything you’ve enslaved.
For daily shallow sighs, eventually snowballs into an avalanche.
Only your breath remains
For the restitution.

Art: Sara Willett

Words: Nara

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Relationship

A wind blew in a friend

Immersion in bath
Radio in rain
Take comfort,
I’m a collector of sullen days
I frame the opalescent haze from your mind
Come in with sultry eyes
You won’t be needing those Percocets
You’ll laugh until you can’t stand it
You’ll create without feeling loneliness
Together, reassemble all those potential fragments
You know we can make this happen
All you need to do is take this poem and folded into a growing habit
Come on take my hand
Its okay to be afraid
You won’t sink into quicksand
You’ll be okay my friend
With all these honest dealings
A chance at trying

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Mine Na Poem 6.

Sentient Pearl

Painful, the wisps, of our parting ways.

Yes, a sentient being, I must be. Yes, being sentience, is a must now.

In these spring winds, you cross to European grounds.                 Bonjour, coming from their floral mouths, and Cafe zealous from your tenth cup.                            You’re worth every last drop.      She must know this by now!

My western sky is dull, even though we rise to the same sun and rest to the same moon; sombre clouds got in the way.                 When you return, I must resist being the pearl, near your skin, salvaging my own luster.

Poem: Naomi Ruth S.                               Images: Blended Pinterest

 

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