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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: where love livesdots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: nansofast
    Elite Ratio:    5.7 - 2351/2103/268
    Words: 190
    Class/Type: Prose/Love
    Total Views: 1122
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 1098



    Description:
       more from the land of love, so much to learn


    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.

    dotswhere love livesdots
    -------------------------------------------


    You asked me tonight to tell you what my best feature is. I said my soul, that in the bottom where the lightning struck is filled with oatmeal. I wasn't kidding, it's the best part of me.

    I am not good at being taken for granted. There were times tonight when I wanted to travel to Europe and I did. You never suspected that I left, believe me, the remote control you think you're punching buttons on doesn't faze me.

    But here is my level of sadness: you don't get me and I'm wondering if you ever will.. you asked me to stay the night.
    I always need to leave so that your needs can be forgotten.
    I curiously write poems in the wee hours, just to drive your
    selfishness away. And I know, I'm there just to make you blossom, so my own selfishness cannot interfere.

    I think if you want to know me, you'll have come here, where the metaphors live. Far into the void, where it's sane to be forgotten, to forget oneself-

    because that's where love lives.





    Submitted on 2009-02-22 07:44:05     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    ||| Comments |||
      ah.. the holocausts of the heart.

    it seems that we lack the luster of polished granite in our everyday lives. but, through our words: chrome, seaweed, the vividness of marbles, etc.. we become a shiny poet on a piece of silver rocket hose.

    sometimes, you remind me of wakoski...

    merlo

    | Posted on 2009-06-02 00:00:00 | by blackbird | [ Reply to This ]
      I love the first part of this... because I can identify. I think the soul is the most delicious part of any human being. That true/pure self. (Though I am still learning about my own). I also love the thought of -

    'that in the bottom where the lightning struck is filled with oatmeal'

    it feels warm and gooey and filled with substance.

    'But here is my level of sadness: you don't get me and I'm wondering if you ever will..'

    This strikes so many chords... it is extremely difficult to be with someone who has no idea who you are and the fact that they may never know, or truly want to know makes it that much more painful. To be gotten and to get is so imperative or what is the point???

    Not sure where I am going with this... just that your words resonate...
    | Posted on 2009-02-23 00:00:00 | by isabella | [ Reply to This ]
      There is a sadness to this as if buddha is grappling with the need to be acknowledged and nurtured. Unconditional love is a great goal but we must nurture the body the soul hides inside of. Uncovered in retinas glances that lance landscapes and dreamscapes alike. It's hard to step back and say I need to be loved to be love. I hope you find someone to understand you and make you laugh.
    SAT NAM
    | Posted on 2009-02-23 00:00:00 | by shaman | [ Reply to This ]
      it has a certain sadness to it. Your words are so unbelievably clear, it was with such ease for me to enter your world and slowly loose myself into it. Your words had some kind of power over me as I feel this wonder; whether someone can truly get me or if they ever will. And if they really want to, they will have to make the effort and find you because you can't show them unless they want to.

    I just think it's wonderful. Seriously. A little glimpse that didn't flow too well was:

    I think if you want to know me, "you'll have come here,"

    Doesn't it need to be "you'll have to come here".

    Anyhow, no big deal. It's still wonderful.

    Enjoy the rest of your day.

    Irina
    | Posted on 2009-02-23 00:00:00 | by charmedidentity | [ Reply to This ]
      there is struggle here, both inward and outward, and i can identify with this; surely, most people can and that's where the beauty of this lies.

    this is about control to me: this person thinking that they can (control you), and you not taking it at all; how much i'd like to believe that i can't be controlled, yet still am in many little ways, how so, even i'm not sure of at the time. but it pulls me under and i hate it and want it gone from me as soon as i've noticed it.

    "where it's sane to be forgotten, to forget oneself-"
    ultimate sadness here which troubles me. are you inferring that it's insane to be remembered and to remember oneself? or that that's what it'll bring at some point? this pull of love between continents, between souls: something which should be free and blooming but is often tinged with the completely opposite aura? nan, have i ever said to you that i often merge people's emotions and my own (and physical locations, too, i'll add) with colours, that it goes beyond feeling, and that i can actually physically see these emanations? sometimes it's so strong that i either literally stumble away from it wanting to vomit, or am drawn so much that i don't want to leave at all, a serene glimpse which is at once both so real yet so fleeting...

    each with our own manifestations of sadness, of the shackles we may consciously or subconsciously interact with, thinking... feeling... but always living, yeah?

    nods.
    bless.
    | Posted on 2009-02-22 00:00:00 | by meoww | [ Reply to This ]


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