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Gravitational Pull

The moon is about one quarter of the size of the earth in diameter and,
Love reacts with the realms to take you off your feet! !
But the moon has no light on it's own,
For it depends on the sun to give us light in the night.

Gravitational pull and emotional love,
The moon receives its light from the sun!
And like the hope of your dreams in the land of your birth,
For the woman was made for the man.

Only those who know the past can understand the present,
And like the medium of exchange! !
But some people only quote from the Bible without knowing their true meaning.

Move on with a smile on your face and leanr from your past,
And like plantain and Soya-beans in the land of your muse;
But with the benevolent way of expression to educate others,
For we are all affected by the gravitational pull!

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If God only used perfect people, nothing would get done. God will use anybody if you're available.

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Por El Suelo Y A Correr

Al suelo y a correr
Si tardas en volver
sujetalo a los pies
Ocultas el dolor
lo pintas de placer
consume corazon
Por el suelo y a correr
Tienes algo que esconder
Por el suelo y a correr
Sujetados a los pies
Buscas la opinion
En otra habitacion
En otra direccion
Sonrie un dia mas
Por tu libertad
Por una amistad
Por el suelo y a correr
Tienes algo que esconder
Por el suelo y a correr
Sujetados a los pies

[...] Read more

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Anne Sexton, Slyvia Plath and Virginia Wolf

Great women poets that had an impact
all Light Workers that ended up sad.
All had depression, but didn't know why
possible biopolarism symptoms turned the tide.
Most Light Workers feel all alone
they wish they were back at home.
They all were on Earth misunderstood
not really knowing they were here for greater good.
They all committed suicide and ended their life.
I felt like that for sometime…
having a medical condition that was in disguise.
Mysterious that Virginia was found on my birthday
Virginia is in heaven very safe and o.k.
So read their novels, poems, short stories and rhymes
they really did their best while here in human life.

Written by Suzae Chevalier on September 9,2012
www.suzae.com www.suzaria.com

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A Sweet Dream

every night i go to bed with the thought of u in my head,
every night when i close my eyes i dream of u and the time flys by,
i dream the same dream every night your holding me in your arms telling me 'everything is gonna be alright',
but then the sun comes up and the dream has to end,
i cant wait to go to bed and dream that sweet dream again.

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Romantic Rose Reseda

Roses are red
Lovers are fed
It's all romantic
Because roses adorn

With exquisite aroma
It comes alive,
Inside the glass
They finally unite

Under the aching thorn
Love is finally born
With such beautiful attire
It bathes in perfection

Covered in such magnificence
He's no prince charming,
Without one scenic essence
He'll never make it

[...] Read more

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Carl Sandburg

Our Prayer of Thanks

For the gladness here where the sun is shining at evening on the weeds at the river,
Our prayer of thanks.

For the laughter of children who tumble barefooted and bareheaded in the summer grass,
Our prayer of thanks.

For the sunset and the stars, the women and the white arms that hold us,
Our prayer of thanks.

God,
If you are deaf and blind, if this is all lost to you,
God, if the dead in their coffins amid the silver handles on the edge of town, or the reckless dead of war days thrown unknown in pits, if these dead are forever deaf and blind and lost,
Our prayer of thanks.

God,
The game is all your way, the secrets and the signals and the system; and so for the break of the game and the first play and the last.
Our prayer of thanks.

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Treading Lightly

I lather up all my memories
and shave my face at its edges
utilizing blade and steel
to cut tiny hair stalks
away
underneath to
reveal
a new me
with perhaps also
tiny blood stains
etched into that new face
and braced
in the mirror-glow
I look at the new me

there
making my daily vow

to make the newly-shaven me
shine this day

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The better the coverage, the more discriminating the viewer.

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Neath The Tree (Where The Hoot Owl Waits)

packing my bags,
my flute and guitar...
the laces of my boots tied.

an old shotgun,
a couple of books,
my hat pulled down low.

leaving a candle,
a couple of prayers,
and the memory of song....

nothing left to say,
nothing left to give,
nothing left undone.....

by the moonlight
in the cold, down
this long winding road....

[...] Read more

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